It's been a month...

The 2nd week of term is ending soon. Marking also the end of my first month in this town-like city.
For the past one month, I have been in a state of constant confusion. Every single action, every single conversation, every single gaze that falls on someone, all of them deliberate. And this claw-like fear.
Every time I run an issue through my mind, it boils down to one answer: balance.
The purpose of my presence here, or rather, the purposes of my presence here.

That aside. The last two weeks have been enjoyable.
~Above all else: Argentine Tango Lesson in St. Columba's (ahem..a church)
~Sudden random phone call from Mom
~Vid-calling Xj
~Statistics Tutorials, Paul G. was an absolute darling
~Taking a walk in Magdalen College grounds with Jasmine, surrounded by tall trees and rustling leaves that deafens like a roaring sea.
~Midnight ice-cream at G&D's 'round the corner with the nice people of staircase 14
~Watching "Back to the Future" in Andy's room (8), followed by Andy dressing up as Hitler
~Long chatting sessions with Artemisa
~Psychology Tutorials
~Finishing my first Psy essay in the Lower Library, in front of a window overlooking the Nuffield Lawn, surrounded by ancient manuscipts in locked shelves
~Freshers' Dinner with Paul A., met a Swede and talked about Economics, absolutely Hogwartsy
~A short visit to the chapel, given free red wine by the chaplain and a spontaneous history lesson of the chapel by a respectable Medieval Historian, Matthew.
~Found out that Andy Paul Stefan Chen is really asexual and reproduces via budding. Found offsprings Andy and Paul in my staircase; both carry much similarities to parent organism
~Lugging my humongous second-hand Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus back from Blackwells
~Coming back to a room permeated with the smell of remnant morning coffee

The Day Before Everything Begins

Today is the last day, not only of my first week in Oxford, but also of the torturously long wait since November 2007. It is a rather special day that marks the end of one phase and the beginning of another. One of stagnation, the other of intense motion. From tomorrow onwards, my life will be a constant race: I have a limit of three years to soak up as much of Oxford and Britain as possible, to vastly increase my database of individuals, to prepare for a Master degree in Yale and, (fingers crossed) as Aunty H hopes, to grow delightfully in mind, wisdom and soul. There might be a break after these three years and subsequent leave taken by choice but never ever again will I be pushed into such a state of complete, even maximized state of uncertainty and torpor as I was.

For the past one year, I have been through all kinds of waiting. Waiting with a fool’s hope that ends with a miraculous reward, with a reasoned certainty that falls off the edge, with much fear and the worse came true, with smug predictability, with indifference, with much preparedness and dread, with a purposeful forgetfulness intended to avoid heartaches, and with much boredom.

I have come to realize some things but regretfully I was not disciplined enough to have learnt my lessons. I have come to realize that I am not as well-equipped to wait as many are. I have seen a few admirable individuals who were cast into nearly similar situations, and when they had to wait they delved into the environment with a daring I can only imagine. They learnt all that they could in their immediate surroundings, disregarding how silly or stupid they might appear. Or if that does not suffice, they start on something they have put off for a long while.

I, on the other hand, am very contented to keep to myself or to appear busy. Unless, of course, if I had a companion. Perhaps another honest confession I should make is that I am not as independent as I thought I am, and it is to me such a worthy skill: to be able to venture forth without much consideration. And, yes, this ultimately boils down to how self-conscious I am.

If, however, I was in a completely familiar environment (e.g. at home) I would happily settle with something easy, fun and repetitive, like computer games or reading. This I attribute to laziness. And I completely detest myself for not actively picking up French or brushing up English and Chinese over the immensely long wait. Nor did I try to explore my city or even experiment a bit more in the kitchen.

These are my two main vices that will haunt me for a long while. I am not capable of waiting fruitfully, and therefore will never be able to attain excellence.

I have also come to realize that I have repeatedly failed to pause right before a long wait and to face the fact that waiting means I will have NOTHING to do. If I did that, then perhaps I would have been able to figure out what are the best things to do during that period instead of blundering into it and to hope for the best. My alternative is inappropriate because if I do not figure out what place will I be in, what stage and therefore what lessons should I learn, should I walk around the city or should I stay in and settle down, then I will be in a state of constant restlessness. I would have everything and nothing to do, and the result would be me playing more computer games. I realize that if only I had thought through and sorted things out a little earlier, I would have been able to squeeze Oxford of its worth. So here I am, at the end of my long wait, feeling as though I had wasted the entire year. Neither grown, nor improved.

After dinner
with Hannah and Flick, I took a walk around the grounds trying to find the Linsbury Building. And as I saw the darkened lawns scattered with random benches, I knew what mode I should be in now-- excitement.

I am in Oxford. In one of the most beautiful colleges around. In my dreams.

Tomorrow will kick start all the fun, work and learning…in Oxford!

I will love my next three years.

In place of the one who has left, I will love my life here in Oxford.

Ha! Oxford!

Regrets and Musings in the Starbucks on Cornmarket

It is now the fourth day since I’ve been to Oxford and it is a little unnerving how shy I’ve turned out to be. Perhaps it is my accent which evokes such a degree of self-consciousness that I dare not venture beyond “yeah”, “nope” and the occasional burst of short phrases. I feel terribly ashamed of this, especially since I once prided myself to be able to fit in anywhere if I wanted to. My mom laughed when I told her that I would only explore the college grounds when no one’s around. She also said that it took her half a year to be able to speak freely when she was in Japan and that I will probably need one month or so. I think a month is entirely out of proportion because I’ve known English all my life and she only started learning Japanese for six months then. It should take me around a week or so. And that is the limit I have set for myself. I should be able to babble away as I used to by then, especially then because that is when all the freshers arrive.

My search for Internet failed today because I didn’t realize Starbucks had such a limited standing in the UK. I saw the “TMobile Wi-Fi Hotspot” sign outside all the Starbucks and thought, Wonderful, that’s my last resort. As it were, I took a wrong turn and ended up in Cornmarket Street which means Coffee Republic’s way behind. I could’ve walked a little more and made a discreet turning somewhere had it not started raining. So I dashed into the nearest Starbucks and thought I’d probably be spending just a few more pence than I planned to. Not sure about the price difference but I definitely did not go online. Damn me for thinking that it’s like in Singapore and Malaysia, where Wi-Fi Hotspot meant Free Wi-Fi Hotspot. It’s also kinda sad to think that Starbucks can’t afford to provide its patrons with free Wi-Fi over here. Well, at least I have something to eat now and a decent mug of Caffé Americano. Ha…I remember asking Xj to order Americano instead of the usual Mocha Latte in Coffee Bean just a few days before she left. I think Starbucks does a more wholesome one.

Hmm… I am actually thinking of specializing in coffees and teas instead of wines. Seems much cheaper and comes much more naturally to me coz for wines I tend to get distracted by the jolt of alcohol. Randomly, I wonder which red wine did Xj and I have in The Tent.

I also wonder how many times have I watched Saiyuki Reload Burial—Sanzo Chapter. It’s as if I watch it to drive away the loneliness and it really doesn’t help that no one’s around. I really mean No One. That, mixed with a feeling of impending doom, a restlessness that doesn’t allow me to stay indoors, a nagging voice that says you actually DO have lots more chores to do (when I DON’T) and the feeling that Hell I’m in Oxford I should be prowling the streets or at least the college grounds everyday! Just this afternoon, I fell asleep on the easy-chair while reading Gurdjieff and was startled to wakefulness at three thinking, what have I gotten myself into? Why am I here? But I think I’ve nearly sorted out this feeling, helped tremendously by the fact that it’s Thursday already and my mom referring to these few days as a struggle. I thought I liked to be alone. And I do, but I suppose I just need to eliminate the little devilish voice that goes, you should be doing something, and I’ll be fine. I think it’s fine if I stay in. I will explore the streets and the grounds but not now, right now I need to focus on settling in, getting my bearings, knowing what I’ll need and what I lack. Not to run around every day, visiting the museums and all. I’ll do that next holiday. Loads of time then. Oh fine, I’ll probably also get my gown tomorrow since that’s the strongest argument the devilish little voice has. And I’ll go to Coffee Republic tomorrow morning to check my email and download a few games. Other than that, I’ll STAY IN and read Gurdjieff or the dictionary or sth, maybe get a newspaper.

Oh and one last thing, a thing that cheered me up considerably. I found a brochure and a letter in my pidg about Language Courses in Oxford. I nearly put it away, thinking it’ll be like those brochures I got in NUS about English remedial classes for all PRs, until I saw the word French. Turns out, for £20 per term I’ll be able to have French lessons. Oh, the joy. I’ll stop by the Language Center tomorrow or Saturday to sign up for the lessons. That’s it; I declare writing to be highly therapeutic and an important aid in all psychological treatments.