I left Oxford, lovely in the light of another one of its timeless mornings, two weeks ago. Those weeks may not even register on the University's epic chronological scale, but they make quite a difference in where I am and what I'm doing. Tomorrow (today, really) I'm headed out again, this time not quite so far afield-- Boston, for the rest of the summer.
The year is, bizarrely, over.
29 June, 2008
16 June, 2008
last post from Oxford...
In just about six hours I will be leaving Oxford, and in less than twelve I'll be in the air, North America-bound. I'm done. The last essay was finished barely six hours ago. Since then I've gone to dinner and spent a final evening at the lovely little corner pub. Now I'm sitting on my floor, surrounded by the stubborn detritus of a very long year and just slightly tipsy, trying to motivate myself to finish the last of the packing.
I'm going to miss this. I'm going to miss Oxford. For everything that has been hard (and this term in particular was) there have been so many things that were so much better than I thought they could be. I have no words left to convey how it has overflowed.
I've missed people while I've been here. I'll miss others when I'm gone. Wherever I am, someone will be missing. It's hard when life is so spread out. But at the same time, it almost helps. The thought of the several clusters up and down the coast who are maybe looking forward to my return makes this bearable somehow, just a little easier. (But I still don't really understand.)
A couple more posts/photos/etc. to come, but they'll all be from the other side of the pond.
I'm going to miss this. I'm going to miss Oxford. For everything that has been hard (and this term in particular was) there have been so many things that were so much better than I thought they could be. I have no words left to convey how it has overflowed.
I've missed people while I've been here. I'll miss others when I'm gone. Wherever I am, someone will be missing. It's hard when life is so spread out. But at the same time, it almost helps. The thought of the several clusters up and down the coast who are maybe looking forward to my return makes this bearable somehow, just a little easier. (But I still don't really understand.)
A couple more posts/photos/etc. to come, but they'll all be from the other side of the pond.
13 June, 2008
how strange
On Monday I'll be going home. I have one more essay left to finish that's more a formality than anything, and have, in my procrastination, already begun to pack.
Several wrap-up posts in the coming days, and then I'll be finished here too...
Several wrap-up posts in the coming days, and then I'll be finished here too...
04 June, 2008
primaries
Edited to add: This got longer than I intended and has nothing to do with Oxford. But it does have to do with some of the stuff I've been up to this year, so if you're at all interested in what I did on the campaign in January, read on!
At this point, I should just be relieved that its over. It's been a long and messy fight. Everyone has known for a while how it was going to end. Even I, feeling worse than traitorous, had caved and signed up for Obama's email updates (and gritted my teeth when they landed in my inbox, calling me "friend"). Really, everyone should be relieved that we can move forward now, turn our attention to the real issues, begin to think about securing victory in November.
But I'm not relieved. I'm disappointed.
I believed in Hillary Rodham Clinton. I believed that she would lead us, surely and steadily, in repairing the damage done by the past seven years. I believed that she would be the first female president of the United States.
It's still difficult for me to achieve any kind of rational distance or perspective. Emotion kicks in and I'm surprised by the strong feelings I can still muster. Personal investment will do that, and I guess I was pretty invested in this campaign-- I didn't write too much about it here, but I don't think I had ever been as completely present or consistently engaged with anything as I was while I was in New Hampshire.
I can't overemphasize how very lucky I was there. I could have knocked on doors all day in sub-freezing temperatures, I could have spent all of my time on the phone with people who just didn't want to hear it anymore (I did my share of that, but it wasn't nearly all). That too would have been okay, it would have been worthwhile. But somehow I hit the intern jackpot and got placed with the Advance team, and ended up with an oddly intimate perspective.
I not only learned a ton about the practicalities of creating good political theater-- what you see on TV, what you see in the newspapers, is obviously very carefully choreographed, but there are so many elements that you'd never think about, that I'd never thought about until I was doing it-- but I was also really there in a way that a lot of people weren't, immersed in the spectacle and in the mechanics of the thing.
I helped set up events, herded press and crowds, ran around behind cordons wearing a Secret Service pin, saw up close all of the policy advisers and talking heads. I worked twelve to sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, and I loved every fucking second of it, even when I was doing things like diving through snow drifts with boxes of food for the campaign bus or hassling the bleacher rental company or plastering windows with rally signs or endlessly redoing our giant post-it note-ed Advance schedule or sorting out muddle of banners and ropes and tape and staple guns that filled our closet or taking my boss's blackberry so he wouldn't kill us by trying to type while roaring down a New Hampshire highway at eighty-five miles per hour.
I heard her talk a bunch of times. She wasn't the most immediately captivating speaker, but I believed what she said, and she projected an air of capable and empathetic intelligence. I was impressed when I watched her answering questions from voters. I even saw her joke around with my bosses.
I can't say I've admired everything that has come out of the campaign this year-- some things were pretty badly and embarrassingly mishandled-- but I can say that I genuinely admire the candidate, that I am glad to have had the opportunity to work for her and to catch the kind of glimpse of campaigning that I caught.
Today, I want to stop thinking about politics entirely. I know that won't last. I'll get over it and I'll work for him in the fall because I care just a little too much not to do my part. In fact, I've started working for him already, right at home-- my dad, a life-long Democrat (and a huge fan of the Clintons), has been muttering that he'll vote for McCain or stay home in November if Obama is the nominee. Even through my disappointment, I recognize that kind of attitude as plainly absurd. It's going to be tough, but we have a lot of work to do.
At this point, I should just be relieved that its over. It's been a long and messy fight. Everyone has known for a while how it was going to end. Even I, feeling worse than traitorous, had caved and signed up for Obama's email updates (and gritted my teeth when they landed in my inbox, calling me "friend"). Really, everyone should be relieved that we can move forward now, turn our attention to the real issues, begin to think about securing victory in November.
But I'm not relieved. I'm disappointed.
I believed in Hillary Rodham Clinton. I believed that she would lead us, surely and steadily, in repairing the damage done by the past seven years. I believed that she would be the first female president of the United States.
It's still difficult for me to achieve any kind of rational distance or perspective. Emotion kicks in and I'm surprised by the strong feelings I can still muster. Personal investment will do that, and I guess I was pretty invested in this campaign-- I didn't write too much about it here, but I don't think I had ever been as completely present or consistently engaged with anything as I was while I was in New Hampshire.
I can't overemphasize how very lucky I was there. I could have knocked on doors all day in sub-freezing temperatures, I could have spent all of my time on the phone with people who just didn't want to hear it anymore (I did my share of that, but it wasn't nearly all). That too would have been okay, it would have been worthwhile. But somehow I hit the intern jackpot and got placed with the Advance team, and ended up with an oddly intimate perspective.
I not only learned a ton about the practicalities of creating good political theater-- what you see on TV, what you see in the newspapers, is obviously very carefully choreographed, but there are so many elements that you'd never think about, that I'd never thought about until I was doing it-- but I was also really there in a way that a lot of people weren't, immersed in the spectacle and in the mechanics of the thing.
I helped set up events, herded press and crowds, ran around behind cordons wearing a Secret Service pin, saw up close all of the policy advisers and talking heads. I worked twelve to sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, and I loved every fucking second of it, even when I was doing things like diving through snow drifts with boxes of food for the campaign bus or hassling the bleacher rental company or plastering windows with rally signs or endlessly redoing our giant post-it note-ed Advance schedule or sorting out muddle of banners and ropes and tape and staple guns that filled our closet or taking my boss's blackberry so he wouldn't kill us by trying to type while roaring down a New Hampshire highway at eighty-five miles per hour.
I heard her talk a bunch of times. She wasn't the most immediately captivating speaker, but I believed what she said, and she projected an air of capable and empathetic intelligence. I was impressed when I watched her answering questions from voters. I even saw her joke around with my bosses.
I can't say I've admired everything that has come out of the campaign this year-- some things were pretty badly and embarrassingly mishandled-- but I can say that I genuinely admire the candidate, that I am glad to have had the opportunity to work for her and to catch the kind of glimpse of campaigning that I caught.
Today, I want to stop thinking about politics entirely. I know that won't last. I'll get over it and I'll work for him in the fall because I care just a little too much not to do my part. In fact, I've started working for him already, right at home-- my dad, a life-long Democrat (and a huge fan of the Clintons), has been muttering that he'll vote for McCain or stay home in November if Obama is the nominee. Even through my disappointment, I recognize that kind of attitude as plainly absurd. It's going to be tough, but we have a lot of work to do.
03 June, 2008
going on
The Guardian ran gallery of reader's photos of New York today. Clicking through them, I was hit with something that didn't quite make sense, wanting and not-wanting. New York has always been a lot of things to me, from backdrop to origin to promised land. In thirteen days-- can't even count in weeks anymore-- I'll be back within sight of the City.
Life here has gone on, and goes on, but it won't for that much longer.
Life here has gone on, and goes on, but it won't for that much longer.
24 May, 2008
oh and punting
may be my new favorite thing. Once one gets over the fear of falling into the river, everything is a-okay.
For next time, I must procure a straw hat, a parasol, and some Pimms.
For next time, I must procure a straw hat, a parasol, and some Pimms.
broken social scene
is pretty awesome live.
Sometimes when I go to concerts, I come away feeling like they were doing their best to approximate something that sounded much better in the hermetic conditions of a recording studio. Not this band though. On Thursday night, I came away feeling like I'd been to a show, like I'd heard something quite amazing.
I often forget why I go to shows. Why should I go stand in some room for a couple of hours, packed shoulder to shoulder, to get blasted with sound inferior to what I could hear through headphones in the comfort of my own room? Why would anyone need to see any band live when they have their entire catalog, and the entire catalogs of many hundred of other bands, constantly available on ipods and computers? And a lot of bands aren't capable of convincing anyone otherwise. So the forgetting is easy.
But when it all clicks, you remember. When the band is good and the crowd is into it and you are overwhelmed by a sound that rattles in your throat and chest, when you feel something, whatever it may be-- you remember. And on Thursday night, I remembered. Something rather inexplicable made this gig in particular a joy.
The crowd sang along when the lead singer taught us the words to "Major Label Debut," screamed on cue, shouted out answers to the band's questions about weird Oxford traditions (sub fusc! They do indeed wear tuxedos to sit their exams, and no, you're not the only ones who find that funny), danced.
Sometimes dancing at shows is unwarranted. Music exists that one should not attempt to dance to. Period, ever. (Though some dude will always, always try.) You might think that the music of Broken Social Scene would not merit dancing, but you would be dead wrong.
Even the opening act was serious fun. Usually I find hearing music for the first time live less than optimal, but the Brunettes made some superb boy-girl pop that even included coronets and clarinets and handclaps.
So Thursday night reminded me of why I go to shows, even if I can't entirely explain it. When it was all over, I left Carling and went to bed happy and quite deaf.
Sometimes when I go to concerts, I come away feeling like they were doing their best to approximate something that sounded much better in the hermetic conditions of a recording studio. Not this band though. On Thursday night, I came away feeling like I'd been to a show, like I'd heard something quite amazing.
I often forget why I go to shows. Why should I go stand in some room for a couple of hours, packed shoulder to shoulder, to get blasted with sound inferior to what I could hear through headphones in the comfort of my own room? Why would anyone need to see any band live when they have their entire catalog, and the entire catalogs of many hundred of other bands, constantly available on ipods and computers? And a lot of bands aren't capable of convincing anyone otherwise. So the forgetting is easy.
But when it all clicks, you remember. When the band is good and the crowd is into it and you are overwhelmed by a sound that rattles in your throat and chest, when you feel something, whatever it may be-- you remember. And on Thursday night, I remembered. Something rather inexplicable made this gig in particular a joy.
The crowd sang along when the lead singer taught us the words to "Major Label Debut," screamed on cue, shouted out answers to the band's questions about weird Oxford traditions (sub fusc! They do indeed wear tuxedos to sit their exams, and no, you're not the only ones who find that funny), danced.
Sometimes dancing at shows is unwarranted. Music exists that one should not attempt to dance to. Period, ever. (Though some dude will always, always try.) You might think that the music of Broken Social Scene would not merit dancing, but you would be dead wrong.
Even the opening act was serious fun. Usually I find hearing music for the first time live less than optimal, but the Brunettes made some superb boy-girl pop that even included coronets and clarinets and handclaps.
So Thursday night reminded me of why I go to shows, even if I can't entirely explain it. When it was all over, I left Carling and went to bed happy and quite deaf.
19 May, 2008
trip photos
A small selection of the photos from my spring break odyssey can be found here. (I've been procrastinating pretty seriously this afternoon.)
08 May, 2008
yeah, um
I saw David Cameron speak at the Union today. It was packed, as though everyone suddenly remembered they were Union members. Well, this was a good one to turn up for. David Cameron, the leader of the Conservative party, will probably be Prime Minister in two years if things continue to go this way-- last week Labour had its worst showing in living memory in local council elections, which are said to be a portent of the larger elections to come.
He was interesting. Of course I don't agree with him, but I still think that he's an interesting figure, and that British Conservatives should sit ours at home down and give them a good talking to. The culture war doesn't really exist here. Both parties agree that issues like the environment and poverty must be addressed. Hell, the Conservatives have even managed to integrate gay rights into their conception of "family values." They're rather questionable in other ways, but not nearly as bad as the Republicans.
Which reminds me: I'm in a fight with my good buddy American politics right now. The whole thing is damned frustrating and I am unusually viscerally invested in this one. I'll support the Democratic nominee (...and at this point we pretty much know who that'll be) simply to dislodge the current horrifying bastards from the White House, but right now, whenever I see pictures, I get an awful urge to smack the pretty little smirk off someone's face. (What can I say? I'm an electoral anomaly.)
Besides that, I like milkshakes! And I do not like essays! And that is all, really. (No, I have not gotten an early start on traditional twenty-first birthday celebration. I wish.)
He was interesting. Of course I don't agree with him, but I still think that he's an interesting figure, and that British Conservatives should sit ours at home down and give them a good talking to. The culture war doesn't really exist here. Both parties agree that issues like the environment and poverty must be addressed. Hell, the Conservatives have even managed to integrate gay rights into their conception of "family values." They're rather questionable in other ways, but not nearly as bad as the Republicans.
Which reminds me: I'm in a fight with my good buddy American politics right now. The whole thing is damned frustrating and I am unusually viscerally invested in this one. I'll support the Democratic nominee (...and at this point we pretty much know who that'll be) simply to dislodge the current horrifying bastards from the White House, but right now, whenever I see pictures, I get an awful urge to smack the pretty little smirk off someone's face. (What can I say? I'm an electoral anomaly.)
Besides that, I like milkshakes! And I do not like essays! And that is all, really. (No, I have not gotten an early start on traditional twenty-first birthday celebration. I wish.)
27 April, 2008
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