I Love Me Some Validation

So, last Thursday was absolutely phenomenal; in fact, it was so phenomenal, it took me a week just to write about it. See, Thursdays are when I meet with Lynn for my Restoration Lit tutes, which means that Wednesday nights are spent scrambling together an essay; it was a particularly late night that quickly became an early morning because of "I Was a Rat." By the way, the show went very well--sold out a few nights AND put on one entertaining production. I was very pleased! Anyway, back to the academic validation (oh, yeah, it's all about the academic validation). I had a great tutorial on Katherine Philips and Hester Pulter, two women royalist writers in the Interregnum, and she also gave me back the last essay. She wrote at the end, "Excellent, Jarred. Detailed as always, but showing a real sense of scholarship and discovery." Wow...scholarship and discovery. Color me flattered as all get out! I really think I've found a period of literature that I get on with well. Also, after the tute, I went punting for the first time! Want a picture?



So, my life is pretty good right now. Sure, I'm still stressed, trying to keep up my level of work on Lynn's expectations. Darn, don't you hate it when you set the bar too high. Should've just kept your little head down, Jarred...

Oh, in other news, I'm in our Summer Play at Regents. We're doing a version of Shakespeare's Midsummer, so that's pretty fun. I'm playing Lysander, one of the lovers, and I just get to flirt with my friend, Fran, for the entire play. Good times, good times. Well, I'll keep you posted on my last few weeks in Oxford. (Insert sigh here) Where did the year go?


(Me and Fran, Lysander and Hermia.)

Remember When?

Hey all, remember when I used to be a good blogger and kept you updated weekly? Yeah, I don't either. But, I feel really guilty about it, so I'm going to fix it this morning with a brief update in Regent's Library (next to my lovely friend, Amanda who may or may not be reading this over my shoulder).

It's 4th Week, which means I am half way through my last term at Oxford. Hold on, let me wipe that little tear away from my eye. OK, and I'm back. Yeah, so this term had been pretty busy, considering I only have one tute. But this one tute is very stressful; in fact, I've developed a complex. Since I only have my tutorial on Restoration Literature, I thought, "Hey, Jarred, why not give this everything you've academically got?" I showed up in 1st Week with an essay on the body in Milton's Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained with a little bit on Samson Agonistes. My tutor called my essay one of the strongest student essays she's read on Milton in a while. I was floored, as Milton gave me such a hard time; he's a very dense poet to sift through. My essay for 2nd Week was on Restoration comedies, and I really threw myself into that essay. I loved the plays I read (The Country Wife, The Man of Mode, and The Rover) which meant that writing the essay was so much fun. And my tutor told me, "Jarred, you clearly had fun writing this." She also told me that she was impressed by the work I've produced, and even said my Restoration comedy essay was borderline graduate level work. In one way I should be thrilled that she enjoys my work, but mostly, I'm terrified. Here's the complex: I'm so scared that those essays were flukes and that I really don't have the potential she sees in me and that the next essays I write will reveal what a Restoration lit fraud I am. And then I tell myself, "Get over it and write your next essay." It's an approach. I love the Restoration period, especially the theatre, although right now I'm supposed to be writing about the poetry of Katherine Philips and Hester Pulter. Instead, I'm blogging.

On the social front, I'm in another play, which has played a major role in me not blogging. I play an old man in an adaptation of Phillip Pullman's "I Was a Rat." It's quite a cute and fun show--a fairy tale type spectacle with a bit of social commentary thrown in. It opened last night, and I'm still waiting for our reviews. Perhaps I put some excerpts up if they're flattering or vaguely offensive (like last terms reviews for Instead of Beauty and Little Shop of Horrors). I love theatre, but with this new found Restoration Complex, I haven't enjoyed it as much as last term; all I can think is, "I should be working!" In fact, I SHOULD be working as this next essay is due in for tomorrow and this week "I Was a Rat" is playing, so I need to work. Like, now. I'll update you later, promise. Trust me, I'm an (almost) academic.

(Oh, and just to keep your eyes happy, I'm sharing a photo of me with Emanuelle, our college tortoise. Majestic is the only word I can think of to describe her beautiful and regal air.)

Holiday Travels Part Deux!

After Dublin, I went straight to Paris to meet my very good friend from high school, Jennifer. Jen is also studying abroad at Oxford University, at Mansfield College. Meeting in her Paris, a very exciting thing for me! I'm going to let Jen's pictures do most of the story-telling.

On our first day, we went to the Musee d'Orsay which houses a lot of Impressionist work--Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Gauguin, and others.

We also stopped by this little creperie, then visited Notre Dame.

(I've got a serious case of hat hair, hence the self-conscious pose.)


(This is my camerawork!)

Jen and I also paid a visit to Louis XIV decadent palace, Versailles. It was, well, decadent. I loved it, but I loved the smaller Le Grand Trianon, part of la Domaine de Marie Antoinette. You know, I always thought Marie and I would get on well; I once even told that to a scholarship interview committee...that didn't...that didn't go so well... Anyway,here's Jen resting in the style of Marie in Le Grand Trianon:



We went to the catacombs as well, feeling very Poe--who, fun fact, wrote in Paris. Also, in that same morbid day, we went to Oscar Wilde's grave. Another fun fact: Wilde's actress crush, Sarah Bernhardt, is also buried in the same cemetery.



After 3 lovely nights in Paris, Jen and I went down south to Nice! It was...well, not exactly what I needed. You see that hat from earlier? Yeah, it got stolen in Nice by some French punks. This next photo is actually the last record we have of that hat; Jen and I went to visit our hostel roommate who worked at this bar with live music. The roommate was nice. The live band's lead singer was a Dutch guy who looked like Kurt Cobain. There was also a French couple fighting, and I may or may not have been an instigator. I sort of kind of started dancing with this guy's girlfriend...yeah... Anyway, look, a distraction!


(Yeah, I kind of forgot my razor, so pardon the scruff...)





So, that's my holiday in France with Jennifer. Oh, right, Nice is also where I left my camera, and I have plans on getting it back. When I do, there'll be a nice photo entry of France from my eyes. In the meantime, I'll just have to keep you occupied with tales of Trinity Term, my final term at Oxford. So far, I've managed to read Milton's Paradise Lost over the vacation, as well as some secondary sources. I'm kind of ahead right now. 0th week is approaching quickly, as in this Sunday quickly, and already the finalists (the students in their final year) at Regents Park are feeling the stress of upcoming exams. I also have an audition lined up for Monday evening for a show--but just ONE show. I will not be spending more nights on the JCR sofa because of theatre like I did last term. Ladies and gentlemen, I'll update you later, but right now, I've got some instant coffee to make and some secondary reading to tackle. Au revoir!

Holiday Travels 1--Dublin for St. Patrick's Day

At the end of Hilary Term, a group of Americans went to Dublin to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in the proper Irish fashion. We left Oxford on Monday, March 15th and arrived in Dublin safe and sound. We checked into this pretty nice hotel about 30 minutes outside the city center which ended up costing less than a hostel in town, and then we set out to explore the city. On the first day, we went to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells, which kind of made me feel nostalgic; I do miss Medieval literature and manuscripts, even if the tutorial itself was an emotional trauma-- (Flash back to "Point taken, however..."). We then went to the Guinness storehouse where I got to see how my favorite stout comes to life. Our group also walked around the Temple Bar area of Dublin that evening which is filled with moody cobble-stone pedestrian streets; I loved it. The next day we visited the Oscar Wilde house where Wilde was born and where his mother lived, followed by a visit to the National Museum of Ireland. We also visited Christ Church Cathedral, which was pretty, the Irish Writer's Museum, and the Irish Film and Photography Center. Good, clean fun--I swear. By the way, all photos are courtesy of Hayley McGee! I would upload some of my photos, but I kind of left my camera in Nice. I'm a genius, I know; truly, I have everything sorted in my life. I'll blog about Paris next when my friend, Jennifer Yun, posts some pictures from our French adventures!

End of Term Report

Wow, has anyone else noticed a drastic decrease in blogage this term? Sorry about that. This was really a busy term; in fact, "busy" doesn't even begin to cover it. The two shows I was in, Little Shop and the Richard O'Brien's (not the Rocky Horror Richard O'Brien, but a second year at Brasenose) Instead of Beauty, sucked up so much time, but the both went well. Opening night reviews for Little Shop were iffy as we had just got done building the set 30 minutes before the house opened!!! Actually, fun fact: part of the set fell when I tried to open the door to my own shop, and then part of it fell on our leading lady. One reviewer understood the technical problems, concluding that technically speaking, the show was not ready, but performance-wise, the musical was solid. Another reviewer said the entire thing was awful and that readers should be warned to "not feed the plants or spend your money at the Pembroke musical." It was a vicious review, and the author even remarked that I had too much energy. Too much energy in a musical? Didn't really think that was possible... Critics were very receptive to O'Brien's work and our production in general. Audiences, even our older ones, really got into it as well, which is surprising because a lot of the subject matter is pretty sexually charged. I really enjoyed being immersed in the Oxford theatre scene this term, even though my life has been hectic because of it.

Academically, I've still been highly engaged with what I'm studying. My Modern Lit tutorials with John (my tutor last term for Wilde) went well. He enjoyed my work and we had some very productive, enthusiastic, and absolutely nerdy tutes, especially on James Joyce. Aw, I'm going to miss John next term. My other tutorial, Renaissance Lit, went surprisingly well. See, I was terrified because political history is not my strong point, and in the early modern period, the literature is inseparable from the political world: the court was central to poets and playwrights alike. Despite my shying away from political strife during the reigns of Elizabeth I and James II, I managed to scrape together some good work, according to my tutor. She really enjoyed my essays on Shakespeare's late plays and we had a really good discussion on The Winter's Tale. Also, she like my readings of John Donne's poetry. I think my favorite, though, was our tutorial on John Ford's works: Tis Pity She's a Whore, The Broken Heart, and The Lover's Melancholy. I was really moved by Ford's language and his exploration of an early working of psychology was fascinating as well. I think Ford is severally under-read, and the critic conversation surrounding his works is equally limited. In one way, it's a shame, but in another way it's a way into the critical world if I could extend my essay and probing of my work. Lynn, my tutor, wants to see my essay pushed further because she thought I was on to some very interesting discoveries with Ford's works. Overall, I got the equivalent of an A in both tutes and I feel really well versed in Renaissance stagecraft. Yay!

OK, so right now I'm in Nice, France, in the hostel's cafe area after traveling to Dublin and Paris. I will blog about this experience in full soon, I promise. Also, next term I should be less busy as I ONLY HAVE ONE TUTORIAL! I am so thrilled. And it's with Lynn, my Renaissance tutor, and we get on well. I have the opportunity to get very intimate with Restoration Lit, starting with Milton's Paradise Lost. Trinity term is going to be magnificent--trust me.

Moment to Spare Blog Update!

Hey there, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like I actually have a moment to spare to fill you in! I mean, I should probably be reading John Donne right now, but I'm feeling so relieved after my Modern tute that I'm not thinking about my Renaissance paper right now. (And, for the record, it's that kind of thinking that keeps me playing catch up. Problem identified...but is it going to change? Hahahaha--no.) Anyway, I had a great tute today for Modern on James Joyce and Catholicism. My tutor liked my paper a lot and the close readings I did were very subversive--that's totally a good thing. Know what's not a good thing? I have rehearsal every night this week until 11:30pm because Little Shop opens next week! I am too nervous about this, especially as I keep butchering "Mushnik and Son." But, I think it can only get better. Or so I hope. Also, I have officially been cut from the rowing crew. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted...well, fun in that bizarre masochistic get up at 5 in the frigid morning kind of way. This is probably a good thing, what with my busy schedule. Without rowing, I'm a lot less tired and I have more free time in the mornings. Well, I think that's it. I'm off to music rehearsal for Little Shop. DON'T FEED THE PLANTS! xx

Hilary Term--4 Week Crash Course

Hey, ladies and gentlemen! I know you've been waiting on the edge of your seats with bated breathe, wondering when I was going to post again. I had hoped that enough pretty pictures of Scotland would distract you while I stretch myself across Oxford doing an ungodly amount of extracurricular activities. Basically, my life looks like this right now: rowing in the mornings, academics from about 9am-3pm, rehearsal for this new show from 3:30-6:30, rehearsal for Little Shop of Horrors from 7:00-10:00, then library time from 10:30-1:00am. And that's on a slow day! Lemme break it down.

So, we'll start with rowing this term, since it happens first in my day. I have been doing ergs (um, indoor rowing machine sessions) and doing 5ks. That's the brighter way to start my day, really. The river has been red flagged this term because of all the rain and snow, which means we haven't really been able to get on it. However, it went down to blue flag, so with an experienced cox, we went out on Friday and will be having another outing tomorrow morning. There's also some tension in my rowing life right now because we have 9 rowers, yet only 8 seats. We will have to cut someone from the crew this week. See the drama unfolding? Now, not to be pessimistic, but I'm not that strong of a rower. If we can flash-back to last term where our coach called me "the Hunch-back of Notre Dame." And our new coach doesn't think I'm rowing much better because of my too tight hamstrings. Honestly, I don't think I'll make the crew, but I'll certainly keep trying. Our 8 rowers will be chosen based on performance in the water according to the coach (um...yeah) and then our 2k erg times. I'm going to try to erg well and hope that keeps me off the bottom rung. But, if it doesn't, rowing was certainly a good experience.

Academically, I'm doing about the same as last term. My two tutes--Renaissance and Modernism--are pretty interesting, especially after I got past the poetry of Sir Philip Sidney and Edmund Spenser. I've touched on some Samuel Beckett, which was a heart-breaking affair, but absolutely fascinating. I spent last week with Shakespeare and the gaze in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Othello, and The Winter's Tale. My tutor really enjoyed my essay--both the content and the way in which it was written. This week I'm continuing with Billy Shakes, and I'm also exploring Catholicism and the language of the liturgy in James Joyce's works. It's a party.

On the theatre front, I'm in Little Shop of Horrors, and opening night is like 2 weeks away. Am I spazzing? Am I nervous? Am I reveling in the part of Mr. Mushnik as a crazy-dancing man with an unnatural love for money? The answer to all of these questions is a resounding, "Yes!" Also, I auditioned for this other play during 1st Week, and I actually got in! It's called Instead of Beauty, and it's an original composition entry for the Oxford University Dramatic Society's New Writing Festival--or, OUDS' NWF. I love acronyms. The show has a four person cast, so it is a lot more pressure that Little Shop, only Little Shop still makes me more nervous because I have to sing. In front of people. Someone remind me how I got cast for a musical? Anyway, for the past 4 weeks, I've had two rehearsals a day, and at least one every Saturday and Sunday. I'm pretty much living on drama right now, both academically and on stage.

Of course, I top off my day with some good quality library time. In fact, that's where I am now. I'm having a lot of fun, but my life is absolutely crazy right now. Hopefully, I'll be blogging more after 6th Week (so, after Little Shop runs and right before Instead of Beauty goes up; also, if I'm still rowing, Torpids will be the next week...) Thanks for tuning in, sports fans, and I'll keep you sort of in the know when I can. Back to work!

Holiday in Scotland

Hey, ladies and gentlemen. I kind of took a major holiday from blogging. I think somewhere along the lines I promised a review of a West End show, but then I got lazy and distracted by French novelist Andre Gide and the Renaissance sonnets of Sir Philip Sidney. Then I took a 10 day tour of Scotland, which is really the most exciting part of the between-term holiday! I'm just going to give you a basic travel information and let my pictures do the talking. From Oxford, I went up to Inverness, Dromnadrochit (small town on Loch Ness) and Urquhart Glen, Corrimony (which is very much a not-town, although the maps and bus schedules would have you believe differently), Elgin, Burghead, Aberdeen, Cruden Bay, Stirling, and finally Edinburgh. Picture time!

A view from the Bazpacker's (very much not Backpacker's...not sure what a bazpacker is...) Hostel:


This is the ruined Castle Urquhart which rests on the banks of Loch Ness:


Here's the road leading to the not-town of Corrimony. See, a bus dropped us off on the highway around mid-day, then said it would be back around 7:15pm. There was no actual town to rest in after our hike. We waited in the cold, snowy night for two hours (because it gets dark at about 4) before a bus going in the opposite direction was kind enough to pick us up. We just couldn't wait until 7:15. It was hell. A pretty, snowy hell.


Here's the Corrimony chambered cairn, a pre-Christian burial ground.




Next, there was a hike through the Corrimony nature preserve. Gorgeous landscape!






After escaping Corrimony, I went to Burghead, a small coastal town north-east of Inverness which houses a Pictish well.



The well:


The ruined cathedral in Elgin:




The only pictures I have from Aberdeen are from the Kirkyard of St. Nicholas. I have a thing for graveyards. Don't judge me.


Cruden Bay was a popular vacation spot for Bram Stoker while he was working on Dracula. Rumor has it that the Slain ruins are the inspiration for the Count's castle.








Which brings us to Stirling. You know, that whole William Wallace shtick. Freedom, and all that jazz. Yeah, well, here are shots of Stirling Castle, the Church of the Holyrood, and the closed Cambuskenneth Abbey (where King James the III? is buried).









Finally, I ended the tour in Edinburgh on Christmas Eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day; I left on the 27th. In the National Museum of Scotland, there was a nifty Medieval reliquary that supposedly housed one of St. Columba's fingers:


This is on Calton Hill where you can see parts of the Old Town and New Town:






On Boxing Day, I went for a small walk through Holyrood Park where the ruins of an old chapel are surrounded by hills of volcanic rock.






Well, that about sums up my trip. It was pretty. It was cold. It was old. I had a great time, and I'm looking forward to traveling around continental Europe in the spring. The next term at Oxford (Hillary term) is quickly approaching, which means I have some essays to get started on. Wish me luck? Oh, and by the way, I also got the part of Mr. Mushnik in a production of Little Shop of Horrors. Rehearsals start soon. Like, Sunday soon. Again with the wishing me of luck, please!

Post-Modern Pilgrimage

"And thou shalt kisse the relikes everychon / Ye, for a grote! Unbokele anon thy purs" (944-945).

Yep, you guessed it. As evidenced by the Middle English, this is The Canterbury Post. I think every nerdy English major who has ever been to England must have written or thought about his/her trip in terms of Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales. Let me jump on the literary tradition, then.

My day went a little something like this. First, in the morning, I auditioned for Little Shop of Horrors. More on that if I get the part. If I don't, then just forget I mentioned it. After the audition, I met Hayley and Danielle at the train station, and we took the 11:31 to London-Paddington. From Paddington Station, we took the Underground to Victoria Station, and from there we caught a train to East Canterbury. The trip took about 3.5 hours, which is considerably faster than the pilgrimages of the Middle Ages.

The most predominate sight in Canterbury is the cathedral, and as we stepped out of the station, the spire greeted us is the English misty-rainy afternoon. We were so excited walking up the street towards the cathedral, making nerdy jokes about my favorite character in the Tales, The Pardoner, and saying to each other, "Kiss my relics!" See, Chaucer's Pardoner is kind of a bad buy (which is kind of an understatement). He preaches sermons about greed and cursing, especially emphasizing the physical suffering of Christ caused by the congregation's sins, in order to swindle the laity; he scares them into buying Papal pardons, indulgences, and relics. The opening quotation comes at the end of The Pardoner's Tale as he tries to dupe the Host of the pilgrimage, basically saying, "Kiss my relics!" It's like "Kiss my grits," only not. "Kiss my relics," has kind of been my Middle English anthem. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

Finally, I have some pictures to show! First, here is the cathedral from outside.


Pretty, yeah? I'm a fan of the flying buttresses. Anyway, the cathedral is where the Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170. Rumors about miracles occurring at the site of his murder prompted a canonization. Ta-da, we have St. Thomas Becket, and we used to have a nifty little shrine for St. Thomas, but Henry VIII tore it down. But there's a candle burning on the spot to signify the shrine.


Since I cannot turn off my brain, I was thinking how the architecture and iconography in the cathedral relates to the literature of the age. More specifically, since I'm fascinated with the Medieval fascination of the body (oh yeah, lots of fascination going around), I looked at how martyrdom, saints' relics, and physical suffering tied in with lay piety and affective devotion. Very briefly, affective devotion is a form of worship which became very popular in the 14th and 15th Centuries, and it is rooted in the emotional connections between the uneducated laity and Christ's corporeal self. Christ became human and thereby, in his human body, he is connected to the worshipers. Medieval Christians were called to ruminate on Christ's suffering body, especially at the Crucifixion--one of the moments which insist most heavily on his humanity. One of the drawbacks is that the laity, in only engaging with the pathos fail to contemplate higher spiritual matters and are vulnerable to the abuses of the Church. For instance, Chaucer's Pardoner loads his sermon with images of Christ's physical body being torn apart on the cross--very vivid stuff--in order to rob the congregation.

In the cathedral's crypt (where unfortunately picture were not allowed), I noticed a theme of beautifying the bloody body. Lots of affective devotional texts concerning the Crucifixion drew close attention to Christ's wounds in his hands, feet, and side. One writer in The Doctrine of the Heart describes Christ's death as a form of barbecue where he is like meat being roasted upon a spit. It's kind of disturbing. Anyway, as fascinated with Christ's wounds as Medieval writers/worshipers are, there is a need to wipe the blood away when it becomes too much. The sarcophagi in the crypt have the figures of the martyrs on the top of them, statues of the dead. The martyrs are depicted with stigmata, blessed with the same wounds as Christ, connecting their physical suffering to his. But instead of bloody holes in their hands, the wounds become roses, thereby anesthetizing the brutality. So, as much as the clergy and writers emphasized the physical suffering of Christ, there is a contradictory need to hide it when the pain becomes too much.

In keeping with the theme of the body of Christ, pilgrims who made their way to Canterbury Cathedral would have been surrounded by the Eucharist, the literal Body of Christ transubstantiation in the Mass. Central to the pilgrimage was the church,and central to the church was the Eucharist, so pilgrims subjected their bodies to long travels and other exhausting feats in order to connect to the body of Christ. I found an interesting stained glass image which I hope you can see. The sun was setting outside, so it was hard to get a good shot, but here it is:


And one more to really show the lower image:


Got it? So, there is a man vomiting and, more importantly, a priest holding the Eucharist over a bed-ridden man, most likely giving him Last Unction. The Body of Christ is present, even in death. It is absolutely central to the Medieval psyche. And pilgrims who made their way to Canterbury to worship in the church would have seen these images of both physical suffering (the man all throw-upy) and of Christ's body on Earth (the Eucharist). Well, I think that's about it for my Canterbury post. I am so glad I went to all of those Medieval Lit lectures this term; they have really shaped the way I read both texts and images of the Middle Ages. I hope I didn't bore you too much. I just get really excited over bodies in Medieval literature. But, hey, cathedral pretty, right? Thanks for sticking with me this long, and I'll post soon about the other show I went to see in London. Have a great day, and remember, don't get suckered in by every man in a robe yelling, "Kiss my relics!"

What's the Victory of a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?

Saturday night, I went off to London's West End to see a production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. After missing the West End's production of A Streetcar Named Desire earlier this term, I was very excited to finally get my Southern Lit fix in England. This production of Cat did very well on Broadway, so naturally, it made it's way over to London. The cast included James Earl Jones as Big Daddy, Phylicia Rashad as Big Mama, Sanaa Lathan as Maggie, and Adrian Lester as Brick. I thought this was a brilliant move on the director's part. Williams' play centers around a crumbling Southern plantation, which means that historically the cast has been all white, except for the roles of the servants. The director, Debbie Allen, immediately breaks that tradition and opens up Williams' play to another layer of creative opportunity which is not limited by race. I love that concept! For more about the play, the cast, and the director, visit http://www.catwestend.com/

So, with the big stars, the possibility for a deconstruction of racial boundaries, the "Hey, I'm going to the West End" factor, I was really excited to see this show. I was a little disappointed at first. Sanaa Lathan, in her portrayal of Maggie, did not move me at all, which is strange because Maggie is one of my favorite Williams' characters. She has some great lines, but Lathan's "Southern accent" just distracted me from them. Maggie just faded into the background next to the powerful portrayals of Brick and Big Daddy. In fact, Adrian Lester as Brick was phenomenal. He made the show for me, especially when interacting with James Earl Jones. Those scenes where amazing! Brick's "charm of the defeated" (as Maggie calls it) really came through, and I was drawn into Lester's performance. Great job!

Most of the audience, however, did not quite get Lester's performance or Williams' writings as a whole. One of the conflicts in Cat revolves around Brick's excessive drinking as he tries to remove himself from other issues of death and sexuality. Whenever another character called Brick an alcoholic or when Brick went for another drink, the audience laughed and chuckled. Um, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is not a comedy. The other American students I went with found the laughter very disturbing as well, and I'm still not sure why the audience laughed away Brick's drinking. As far as I can tell, the social construction of alcoholism as a vice is lost on a British audience. Coming from an American background, especially Southern, alcohol is kind of a touchy subject; there were Constitutional Amendments about it after all. The British audience, however, didn't come to the show with the same cultural background, and thus, laughed off any drama over alcoholism. It was shocking. I don't want to sound like I'm criticizing the British culture, but since drinking is so common place and an integral part of social life, the term "alcoholic" does not carry the same cultural connotation. There's a discussion we could have here about perceptions of alcohol in the States and in the UK, but that would be another blog's worth. But maybe we should get into it. British students have said to me many times, "What do you feel about the drinking age back home? It's ridiculous. Kids never learn how to handle their alcohol. I think there's more binge drinking in the States because of the higher drinking age." But they say this to me while they are quite intoxicated themselves. Hi, yeah, Pot, meet Kettle. But in all fairness, they are partially right; when some American students enter college, they drink heavily. So, I'm not sure what to make of this cross-cultural disconnect. Regardless, visiting students doing this program should be aware of the cultural differences surrounding alcohol; I know two of the girls with me this year experienced culture shock because they were unaware. So, while the issues of race and sex kind of faded into the background, Allen's production of Cat certainly raised an interesting issue of alcoholism across the ocean. Sorry for maybe getting preachy and taboo! Please stay tuned for upcoming posts concerning...(the ellipses is for suspense) my pilgrimage to Canterbury Cathedral followed by a review of the West End's production of An Inspector Calls!

Mission Accomplished

Just a brief update--I'M DONE WITH MICHAELMAS TERM! Oh yeah, that's right, I survived my first term at Regents Park College, Oxford University! I'm pleased. And overall, it was a very productive term. I think I've engaged a lot with Medieval Lit on a deeper level than I would have at CSU because of the fascinating lectures coupled with the tutorials. Same with Oscar Wilde. It's not often that I can listen to the same critic who literally wrote the book on Wilde! At the end of the term, we get to see our reports of our performance in the tutes. Overall, my tutors had positive feedback, which made me happy. One tutor, however, labeled me as "imprecise" and "sprawling" at times. I laughed. She says that because I once turned in an 11 page paper which somehow upset her. Whatever. It doesn't really matter because I made A's in both tutorials. I am very happy with my marks, but more importantly, I'm happy with how much I've grown as a scholar. My Wilde tutor wants to pick me up next term for Modern Lit, and I already have a reading list for the vacation for both Modern and Renaissance. So, I've got plenty of reading to keep me occupied! Yay!

Trapped in a Chapel--It's a Trappel

OK, since I promised you this story in the last post, and since I finally have some time to spare, here is the tale about me, my friend Beth, and St. Mary the Virgin. Beth and I go to poetry readings most every Thursday nights with the OUPS. Two Thursdays ago (wow, I should really update this blog more often), we went to see a poet read in the upstairs of the Vaults and Garden, a little restaurant attached to the Cathedral of St. Mary the Virgin. Actually, if you look back to September 26th's post, Hayley and I are eating at the Vaults and Garden. Anyway, Beth and I arrived and were directed to take the hallway back and go up the stairs on our right. We start down the hallway with three other students behind us. We reach the end of the hall and there are three doors--one the left is a door to the kitchen, in front is a locked, bolted door, and on our right is an unmarked black door. "Well," I thought, "surely this is the stairs on our right that the people outside mentioned." We all walked through the door and into the dark, empty cathedral. The door slams shut behind us, and of course, it locks. There are no stairs. There is only us and the Lord. So, we start banging on all the doors we could find, and after 15 minutes of knocking and shouting, I decide to call my friend Sam to let us out. After the shock of hearing, "Sam, please, help, I'm trapped in a chapel," he told me he was on his way. After 10 more minutes of banging, a passer-by (not Sam, who arrived too late to save us) heard us and decided we weren't evil spirits haunting the church, and let us out. So, yes, make of this story what you will.

Race Results

OK, well, I think I've kept you in suspense long enough. (Actually, I got distrcted yesterday with this essay on naming and identity in Malory's Le Morte Darthur, but I don't really want to talk about it. Ever.) The Regent's Park novice crew rowed a very impressive 5:29! Um, yeah, that's 5 minutes and 29 seconds with an average stroke rate of something like 28/29? We were very in time with each other, and frankly, it was the best outing we have had thus far! We were quite pleased with ourselves. Overall, in the entire race, we came in 7th out of 17, and in our division, we were 2nd. Go Regent's! (I'll probably fill you guys in about my week a little later on--it involves being trapped inside a closed cathedral. I have this essay looming above my head like the Sword of Damocles. Not a happy camper.)

Week 5 Blues? No, no.

In Oxford, there is a sort of legend of Fifth Week Blues where students really feel the pains of being a sleepless, tired, worn-out, battered Oxford student. Well, last week, I felt none of the blues, because my Fifth Week was ON FIRE! Oh yeah, I said it--on fire.

First, it started off like any week with my Monday Medieval tutorial. I was actually really enthused about my paper that I submitted to my tutor because I felt I really had a grasp on what the poem "Patience" was trying to do with medieval readership. All of the lectures I had been going to for the past weeks seemed to be preparing me for this one essay. I talked about the problem of Biblical hermeneutics in the Middle Ages (which came from Dr. Kantik Ghosh's brilliant lectures called "Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory") and also about affective piety and its importance in lay worship (thanks to the enthusiastic and enlightening Dr. Annie Sutherland in her lectures on "Belief and the Body in Late Medieval Lit"). So, yeah, maybe I got a little carried away, because my essay ended up being about 3,500 words when the assignment called about 1,500-2,000. My tutor didn't really hold that against me too much, even though on Monday, during our tute, she started off by saying, "Jarred, it is your turn to read your essay out loud, although if you are hoarse by the end, I understand." We spent the entire tute on the points I raised in my essay which she called interesting, but she didn't score me any higher that last week. It was kind of frustrating, but I still wrote a good paper, despite her lack of positive regard.

Then, on Thursday of last week, I had my Oscar Wilde tutorial. Now, can you say, "Publishable?" Well, my tutor certainly can, cause he said it to me. He told me that the argument that I had constructed about Wilde's play, "A Woman of No Importance," could easily be published. So, yeah, I was very very thrilled to hear that. I'm not sayin, I'm just sayin. Furthermore, my tutor suggested that I get in contact with Dr. Sos Eltis, the only other critic who has even touched what I was looking at in Wilde's work. I am so excited! I attended all of her lectures on Wilde, and she is truly an amazing scholar and professor. I would absolutely die to meet with her one-on-one and have an Oscar Wilde love fest. I e-mailed her, and I am still waiting--but I'm optimistic.

Later on that Thursday, to celebrate, I went to a poetry reading. Ok, yeah, I know. Only a complete word nerd goes to a poetry reading to celebrate a great tutorial. Read my blog now, and judge me later, yeah? Anyway, I went to The Big Bang, this restaurant in Jericho (a part of Oxford that was a city and might still be its own city, but I don't think so. It's a thing). Downstairs, the OUPS sponsored a reading by Lemn Sissay, an awe-inspiring poet with a keen perception of human language and how it's spoken. Every word that came from his lips--poetry or just speech in between--was fascinating. In between poems, he said something along the lines of, "Poetry, man--it's dangerous. And it's everywhere." Darn right, Lemn, darn right! I want to share with you one of his poems, which is linked on his blog: http://blog.lemnsissay.com/blog/_archives/2009/11/12/4379536.html
Yeah, go there, and click on the hyperlink "The Waitress" in the fourth stanza. This poem gave me chills and my jaw dropped. It was moving and sickening at the same time. So, brief caveat, if you are uncomfortable with the taboo (sex, death, race, politics), then please do not listen to "The Waitress." Maybe find a safer poet? Maybe find a nice Victorian. But I think "The Waitress" sums up very well what Sissay does with his words, with his audience, and with his life.

Well, that was pretty much the highlights of my last week. I will probably post tomorrow about my this week, 6th Week. You should be on the edge of your seat because, let me just tell you, it ends with a rowing race. Oh yeah, be excited! I raced today, and I'll give you the details tomorrow. I'm going to officially log off the internet and see if I can't write a few more paragraphs on this medieval essay I'm working on. Have a great day!

A Week of Poetry!

This week has been filled with poetry, which is definitely not a bad thing! First, I've been surprisingly into this poem that I'm reading for my Medieval Lit tutorial. It's called "Patience" from The Poems of the Pearl Manuscript, which is this collection of four poems: "Pearl," "Cleanness (or sometimes called Purity)," "Patience," and "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." These poems are believed to have been written in the late 14th Century, but like with most Medieval manuscripts, it's ambiguity-palooza. Anyway, "Patience" is a retelling of the Jonah story, and because of all of the Medieval lectures I've been going to, I feel like I've got a really good handle on what the poet is doing. One lecture, Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory, is really focused on how the Bible is interpreted and the religious complications that arise when Medieval scholars/clergymen place human interpretations on it. It is a really dense, thick lecture, but it definitely helps here because the Pearl Poet is re-interpreting a Biblical story. Also, I think it can be read as an exploration of affective spirituality--a form of devotional writing that I've been learning about through the Medieval Literary Theory lecture and my favorite Body and Belief in Late Medieval Literature. We'll see what my tutor thinks on Monday when we discuss the poem.

On a less scholastic note, I've joined the Oxford University Poetry Society and attended two OUPS events this week! The first one was a poetry workshop. Three of us from Regent's Park who are interested in writing went, and we met four OUPS members at the Turl Pub and worked on our poems. What happens is that the poet gives out copies of his or her poem to the rest of the group. The poet then reads the poem out loud three times. After that, the poet does not speak until the end; the goal is to keep quiet and listen to what the poem does after it leaves your control--see if it can stand on it's own, you know? The group then takes the poem through three stages of scrutiny. We ask and answer, "What is the poem about?" Then, "What does the poet/poem do well?" And finally we give constructive criticism. I found it incredible illuminating. Since I've only just been branching outside of my Slam Poetry comfort zone, it was really good to see how my more formally constructed page poems were able to exist without performance. By the way, the OUPS workshop group loved my poem. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin.

Also, Thursday night, the OUPS sponsored a reading in Jericho Tavern by the famous poet Simon Armitage. Well, I was at least told that he was famous. He has published many, many books of poetry, written a few novels, plays, and screenplays. Also, a lot of people study his work for this exam in their schools (I don't remember the name of the exam, but I'll post it as soon as I find out). The girl I went with from Regent's, during the exam, she wrote over three pages on the rhythm of his poem "Kid." The reading was amazing, and Armitage has such a striking presence. His poems mix humor and pathos very well, and his style was natural, yet surreal. The last poem that he read (I don't think it's been published yet because it was in a big black book of just typed up poems) was my favorite, and the silence between the end of the poem and the moment that the audience realized that Armitage was finished sent gave me the shivers. It was beautiful. And I want to leave you with one of his poems that stuck with me from Thursday night. It's on the Poetry Archive's website, linked here: http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=88

And finally, to complete this highly creative week, last night I auctioned off my poetic (dis)abilities at the annual Regent's Park Charity Promise Auction. The two charities we raised money for were the NDCS (http://www.ndcs.org.uk/) and A4ID (http://www.a4id.org/). Last night's goal was to raise over 400 pounds, so we had a lot of inventive pledges. For example, my friend Omar pledged to read a thirty minute bedtime story, and people bid viciously for that one--he raised about 50 pounds. Well, I pledged a personalized love poem, and just to make sure that Regent's Park knew that I could make an interesting arrangement of love metaphors, I gave a little teaser that whipped up before the auction. Now, I don't like to brag or feed my inherent narcissism, but let me just say that after my little preview, hands were flying into the air for a personalized Jarred Wiehe love poem. I raised 64 pounds. By the end of the night, Regent's Park raised over 1,000 pounds for charity, so I feel both creative and philanthropic. I slept well last night. Well, I have to get to work and be productive today, so I'm off. Have a great day!

What a crazy week. I have barely had time to breathe, let alone blog. Rowing has been a major theme in the mornings, as well as in the afternoons, but I really don't want to get into that. I mean, I feel like every session last week did not end with me improving my form or technique. Nope. Instead, I think I got worse and worse. Literally, the rowing coach (Felicity is her name, but she goes by "Flick" because it sounds more hard-core) told me I looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame in the boat. Only, she doesn't address you by name; Flick calls you out by your position in the boat. So, with me, she yells things like, "Bow, you're rowing in a box." Or, "Bow, do you even know what 'backstops' mean?" She's, well, um, intimidating, but she is a really great coach. Every time I learn a body problem of which I have to be hyper-cognizant. For a sport all about repetition--you repeat the movement of the man in front of you, and you repeat the last stroke that you performed--there is a lot of brain strain involved in keeping myself properly functioning.

Now, I feel like I haven't blogged about my academics in forever--it's been a lot of rowing news. Since I am here for higher learning, maybe I should do a little sharing on that front. Actually, I've been terrified to report on the tumultuous relationship between myself and my Medieval tutor. See, she does this thing where no matter what I write, she refuses to truly validate my ideas. The closest she comes to telling me, "Good job," is this really sneaky rhetorical move; she writes and says to me, "Point taken, however..." and follows through with phrases like "you fail to consider" and "making your point extremely limited." Now, let's break this feedback down, shall we? She spends two words to show that she "takes" my idea, and then with one word begins a string of criticism to undercut the previous two word validation. This is hardly an "atta boy." He feedback at the end of my papers are similarly problematic. My first essay (a 66 in Oxford marks, which translates roughly to an B+/A-), she called "well considered," yet "incomplete" as she feels that I did not answer all of her question. It is not a bad grade, yet I was still a little frustrated about it. Anyway, this past essay which she gave back today, she makes use of the same "point taken, however.." move, and used the phrase "competently handled and sufficiently illustrated." But competent and sufficient are some of those ambiguous compliments that aren't really compliments, you know? However, she did score this essay one point higher than the last one, so color me "improved" by her standards. (I'm sorry if the bitter came out in that last sentence; I am trying to keep it in!)

On the happier academic note, I had my second tutorial with John, my Wilde tutor. I'm not sure if I told you this, but he rather emphatically insists that I call him John. He's really young and an American-gone-Brit from California, so he understands where I'm coming from academically. His tutorials are always rather bizarre, and last Thursday was no different. I read my essay looking at the relationship between Wilde's short story, "Lord Arthur Savile's Crime," and Wilde's critical essay, "The Soul of Man Under Socialism," looking specifically at his emphasis on individualism and the artist's role in society. John liked it; he thought it was intriguing, although he kept bringing up The Picture of Dorian Gray, and asking how my argument could be applied to that. In my head, I kept thinking, "But I'm not writing on Dorian Gray, now am I?" Anyway, we discussed Dorian Gray and he said he liked my reading of it. At the end of our tute, I asked him how I was doing (since I am now half way done with it as it is a half tutorial). He said, "Definitely A level work. Don't worry." This week, in stead of the questions he suggested I write on, I talked with him about me researching the intersection of Wilde's drama, American Lit, and his perception and portrayal of Americans. He was OK with this idea, so I'm happy.

Besides rowing, I'm really looking forward to doing some drama and creative writing in Oxford. There's the Oxford University Poetry Society, which I'm planning on getting involved in. As for the theatre, there is the university competition called "Cuppers" that I'm going to perform in. It's only open to freshers (but I think I'm eligible since technically I'm like a Regent's Fresher). Basically, Cuppers is like a One-Act Play competition where different colleges can submit 30 minute plays which are then judged in different categories. One of the clever freshers has written a 30 ensemble based comedy show about the history of theatre. I have a part and we are going into competition rehearsal mode ASAP. I cannot wait!

On the River Isis

I skyped back home on Sunday, and my mother's new favorite question was, "Are you warm enough?" Well, it might be a good thing that she's an ocean away, because on Monday morning, she would have fainted. Why? Because I dragged myself out of my cozy bed and into gym shorts, a long sleeved tee under a short sleeved tee, and my jacket, and headed out the door at 5:45am to go rowing. Yeah. That's right. I am rowing at Oxford, and yes, I do feel quite pretentious; thanks for asking. No, but it was an experience, for sure. See, our crew of eight novice rowers met at Regent's Park bright and early (except it was not so bright and a little too early), and we made our way to the university boat house. Guided by the very intense coach, Felicity, and coxed (steered and directed) by Lottie (one of the rowing captains), we made our way up and down the river Isis. Actually, fun nomenclature fact--the river Isis is really the Thames, except that it does a name chance while it passes through Oxford. In a way, it's like the artist formerly known as Prince. Anyway, I was rowing bow, so I was at the front of the boat, which was nifty. We must have been on the river for at least an hour as the sun came up and other colleges started their training. The best feeling was getting into a steady rhythm with the three other guys rowing "bow four," and Felicity shouted from the bank, "Good work, bow four. Not bad." Oh yeah, validation in the a.m.!

I would like to impart some new knowledge that I gained Monday morning. First, when not using your oar, you should cradle it. Yeah, just cradle it in your arms like a tiny baby. Because, I guess oars need love, too. And, if you kill a goose, it's bad news. Once, Felicity's crew actually killed a goose with their boat while crossing the finish line of a race. In theory, you're then supposed to write a letter to the Queen apologizing for goose-icide, but I don't think anyone really does that. Still, how hardcore do you have to be to kill a goose with your oars?! Well, I have to get to bed now. Tomorrow I am rowing at 6am and then again at 3:30pm. I may or may not have arms on Friday. We'll see.

Callbacks

I just wanted to fill you guys in on callbacks for the improvisational comedy group, the Oxford Imps. Well, out of the original like 60 or 70 people that showed up for the first audition, only 25 of us were called back. Each performer did about two improved scenes with a partner, and it was really fun. Ultimately, though, I was not what they were looking for this year. And there were some AMAZING performers at the auditions--I really hope they made it. But what has been the best part of this whole experience is that now I am running into people from the auditions around Oxford. In fact, the morning of callbacks, I was in a lecture on Body and Belief in Late Medieval Literature (which was absolutely amazing, by the way), and one of the guys already in the Imps who was judging at auditions sat down behind me. We talked for a bit about nerdy English Literature stuff before the lecture. That was nifty. Later Friday night, after the auditions, some friends and I were walking down Cornmarket Street when I ran into two of the other people who made call backs. And yesterday afternoon, I ran into someone else from the preliminary auditions. Basically, even though I didn't make the Imps, I've made some sort of impression--at least enough of an impression to be recognizable while hanging out in Oxford. Yay, me!

Tute-talk

Hey, everybody. Well, this week has been hard. I'm not going to lie--it's been really hard. I have had my first meetings with both of my tutors, and I have been to some lectures. I have officially started my Oxford academic life. Let me break it down for you:

On Monday morning at 10:45, Hayley and I had our first Medieval Literature tutorial where we discussed "where we can discern reality in The Canterbury Tales." If your face is making a very weird express, that's OK, because I can guarantee that mine looked about twice as worse. I was not reading for concepts of reality in the text; I was more focused on Chaucer's subversive religious couplets and social criticism. In fact, I had an argument a-brewing in my mind about how Chaucer uses comedy to deliver concerns about a corrupt Medieval Church, only that argument was shut down. Hard. My tutor told me, "No. Chaucer is not a theologian. Do not go down that road." So, after that hour of fairly traumatic fun, I hit the English Faculty Library for research on my Medieval paper about moral framework in the tales. That library, after all the time this week I've spent there, has become my new best friend.

Tuesday was interesting, as well. I checked my e-mail that morning, and after weeks from not hearing from my Wilde tutor, I get an e-mail saying that we're going to meet on Thursday, and to please compose a four to five page essay considering the background of Aestheticism. You remember that face from the last paragraph? Well, insert it here, too, cause I had no idea where to begin. I had a lot of Wilde main work under my belt, but as far as his influences, such as Walter Pater, J.-K. Huysmans, and others, I was completely illiterate. So, my plan was this: go to some lectures on Medieval Lit in the morning, and spend the rest of the day in the EFL (English Faculty Library). I took off to make it to a 10am lecture on Chaucer poetics, only when I arrive, I sit down in Lecture Theatre 2. I needed to be in Lecture Room 2. By the time I realized this and tried to get over to LR2, the room was filled and the next lecture that I wanted to go to at 11am was canceled. Basically, this means that from 10-12:30, I was in the EFL doing research on Pater and Huysmans and their influences on Wilde. I got some great quotations, and seeing as how I only had TWO DAYS to write this essay, I was really quite on top of everything. Except for missing those lectures...

Wednesday was great in the sense that I actually went to my first lecture! Now, lectures are not mandatory, but they provide a lot of information that might be difficult to get from just pouring over books in the libraries. Plus, they provide a social learning environment, unlike the one-on-one tutes. The lecture I went to was called "Aspects of Medieval Literary Theory" and it proved to be insightful, yet really dense. The material, even though watered down quite a bit, was thick--a lot of theory to grasp at once. I enjoyed it well enough, although I don't think it is particularly useful for my papers right now.

Thursday was such a bizarre day. First, Hayley and I went to a brilliant lecture of Middle English, specifically the language and theories of authorship in Medieval texts. Without printing presses, the authors works are given to scribes to rewrite, and scribes make mistakes. Scribes might actually change drastically the meaning of texts, accidentally or intentionally. It's pretty crazy. Also, I found the cultural connotations of different Middle English diction pretty fascinating as well. For example, words from French or Latin roots have more power than words from a Germanic root because French and Latin are used in law courts, official documents, Church decrees, and so on. This new knowledge will definitely come in handy for my Chaucer paper. Thanks, Dr. Barr!

After the lecture, I had my first Wilde tute at Linacre College. That was an, um, interesting experience. My tutor and I talked about Wilde, and I read him my essay that I had composed (although it almost felt like he forgot that he assigned me an essay, which was slightly unnerving...). He gave me a little feedback on my essay, stopping me after every paragraph to kind of gloss what I had written. We then went through Pater's Marius the Epicurean, and he explained to me what that was all about. It wasn't a bad session, but it wasn't mind blowing, either. I left kind of confused about what we actually accomplished and kind of unfulfilled.

Then that evening, I skipped dinner at Regent's Park because I had an audition with The Oxford Imps, an improvisational comedy group. They were pretty nice and fun people, and I did enjoy myself at the auditions, but I was certainly not on my A game. Not even my B game. In fact, I left thinking, "Well, there are plenty of other groups that I can get involved in because there's no way I got a call back." So what am I doing today? Well, I got a call back. They want to see me again because they liked my physicality on stage and my involvement with my scene partners; however, they want to see me out of my comfort zone a little more. Um...yeah, I think I can do that.

Also, today there are two more lectures I want to go to: one on Medieval and another on Decadent Gothic (which I think might help with Wilde). Yep. Wish me luck tonight, and also wish me massive amounts of luck on my Medieval paper. I'm a little nervous about both. Well, have a good week-end, y'all. (Man, I don't get to say y'all enough over here.)

It's Like Harry Potter!

Sorry for the lack of posts, but last weekend was insane! On Friday, Regent's Park has a formal dinner in the dining hall where the lights are dimmed, candles are lit, and everyone is in their academic robes. Oh, yeah, I have academic robes now called a"subfusc." Not entirely sure what that name means, but it makes me feel like I'm in a Harry Potter film. The entire night was gorgeous. Underneath our little swaths of robe, we wear something very "smart," that is to say, something nice. The food was spectacular. Regent's Park actually has a five star rating for it's dining quality, and after Friday night, I believe it. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire evening! I have to dash off to a lecture on "The Poetics of Chaucer," so I'm going to leave you with this picture of me, Hayley, and Danielle before formal hall. Have a great day--I know I will!