Today's post brought to you by the letter S

Season's Greetings to everyone who's reading this! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and that your New Year's is wonderful as well.

Since December 7, I have been at home, enjoying the company of my family, my dog, and my cat, making numerous trips up to Jewell, doing a little bit of homework, taking naps, and reading and watching a lot of Harry Potter.

Satisfactory as my homebound break has been (I've loved it!), it's time for me to take off and...

See the world! For the rest of my Christmas break, I'll be traveling in Scotland and Spain. (I thought I might travel Europe based on letters. I was hoping to get through all 26 letters of the alphabet, but I don't think "Xciting Italy" will count for the letter X. Which is a shame, really, as the letter X is quite a neglected and lonely letter.) I thought you might be interested in hearing my travel itinerary.

Stop #1 is Scotland. I'm going to Edinburgh with my brother, Reid, and my friends Bill, Brett, Madison, and Robyn. Robyn, you may recall, lives with me; Brett and Madison go to Jewell, and are spending second semester in Oxford. We'll spend New Year's Eve and New Year's there, and on January 2, Reid and I will sally forth to spectacular Spain!

Stop #2 is Granada, Spain, where Reid and I will spend January 2-3. We'll then take a train to Seville, Spain, and stay January 3-5. On January 5, we'll fly to Barcelona, and on January 6, we'll return to London.

Sadly, Reid leaves for the US on January 7. Happily, I return to Edinburgh to rejoin Brett, Madison, and Robyn. On January 9, we'll come back to Oxford.

Soon after my return, I will post many pictures and stories of our travels!

So many of you have expressed good wishes and prayers for Reid and I as we start our travels. I'd like to thank you for those, and to ask for continued prayer as we journey, quite literally, into a great unknown. This is the first real trip that either Reid or I have taken without our parents, and that's a big responsibility. If you could pray for safety and health for Reid, Bill, Brett, Madison, Robyn, and I; for comfort for my parents and Abbie at home; for fun; and most of all, for God's guidance and revelation on this trip, that would be wonderful.

See you soon!

Michaelmas and holidays

As I typed that title, I realized that I may not have mentioned Michaelmas before. Oxford has three terms instead of two semesters, and the terms have names. First term is Michaelmas, second term is Hilary, and third term is Trinity. Michaelmas and Hilary are named because of saint feast days, and Trinity is named because...well, just because. If you go to the Other Place (that's what we call Cambridge), they call them Michaelmas, Lent, and Easter, named after holy holidays (is that redundant?).

Michaelmas is very nearly over! As far as I'm concerned, Michaelmas is over. My last paper was due Tuesday night, and my last tutorial was yesterday. I have totally checked out of academic life.

Actually, I sort of checked out of academic life over a week ago, which made writing those last two papers a little difficult. (Let's take a moment to talk about those last two papers. At Oxford, they technically give grades on a scale to 100. However, if you get an 85, that's publishable. Students realistically get grades on a scale to 70. 70 is a I, 65-69 is an Upper 2.1, 60-64 is a Lower 2.1, etc, etc, etc. My first two papers for my two tutorials were a 64 and a 63, which was acceptable. My last two papers were a 69 and a 70, which was exciting. Clearly, I should check out of academic life more often.) Why did I check out so early? The holidays came!

Last Wednesday was the JWS's (a church group I've joined) Advent Dinner. It was very good food (although I did not like Christmas pudding; Kermit clearly has no idea what he's talking about in Muppet Christmas Carol when he says Christmas pudding is magnificent), and there was a pantomime!

Pantomimes are a very big deal here. They are not silent with gestures, like you might think. Instead, they're long skits (or short plays?), usually about a well-known story. There's always a man dressed as a woman, usually a woman dressed as a man, and frequently bad jokes. The JWS did "Alice in Wonderland":

What you're seeing here is the Rev. Martin as the Rabbit, Jonathan as the Mad Hatter (which was so typecasting), Mark as Tweedledum (or maybe Tweedledee), James as Alice, and Gemma as Tweedledee (or maybe Tweedledum). Also a bunch of bottles of fizzy water, which is gross.

The next day was Thanksgiving! My first Thanksgiving dinner was at Spencer House, where a bunch of our American friends live. Brandon was our amazing cook:

This was the "family" of Thanksgiving dinner #1:

Mrs. Ross, Ryan, Erin, Brandon, Stacy, Kristin, Phil, Sabrina, Dr. Ross, me, Erin, Dr. Robson.

When we get bored, we take pictures of ourselves (I think this is some kind of commentary on my generation and its narcissism/obsession with photos, but whatever). I'm posting these because I think Reid would be proud of me and my sneakiness:

After Thanksgiving dinner #1, we went to the Regent's Park pantomime! It was "Cinderella":

Salmonella the Ugly Stepsister, the Ugly Stepmother, and Rubella the Ugly Stepsister.

Saturday we had another Thanksgiving dinner at Stanley Road, where more Americans live! It was also delicious, but I did not take a picture of the food. But here I am with Erin!

And finally, last night was the Christmas Carol Sing-Along at the Sheldonian Theatre. The Sheldonian Theatre is huge, and it was packed with students, and we all sang along to a brass band. It was amazing! I am so ready for Christmas carols now that it's past Thanksgiving.

So, Michaelmas term is essentially over. I have:

--read a lot

--written a lot

--not 'rithmaticked a lot

--walked a lot

--watched House a lot

--blogged a lot

--eaten cookies a lot

--been wet a lot

--been confused a lot (seriously, sometimes it's like another country over here or something)

--taken pictures a lot

--taken naps a lot

--learned a lot

I don't think I'm going to post over Christmas break. Reid and I are flying back with several of my Jewell friends on Dec. 29, so stayed tuned then for our adventures!

Merry Christmas!

My Favorite Things; or, Another Themed Post

Before you read this post, it may be necessary for you to watch this (from the best movie of all time):

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vwLrUgJlung

In this post, I will talk about My Favorite Things, basing my comments off the lyrics of "My Favorite Things." Be excited.

Raindrops on roses: It rains a lot here, as you might imagine. Sometimes the rain is very annoying. My jeans get wet, my hair tangles, and my glasses need windshield wipers. However, I do love using my umbrella, and sometimes the rain means it's nice to stay inside by my warm radiator. Here is what it looks like right before it's going to rain:

This is at St. John's College in Cambridge.

And whiskers on kittens: When I am bored, I go to http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/. It's a website of pictures of cats with funny captions.

Bright copper kettles: Tea, of course! Everyone drinks tea like water here. I have learned that English teas are good, and Chinese teas are not. I have also grown to very much appreciate "Brew time" at Regent's. This is because "Brew time" has "biscuits," which means cookies. And man, do I love cookies:


And warm woolen mittens: Because seriously, who doesn't love 1) being warm, 2) wool, and 3) mittens? In addition to warm woolen mittens, I also love warm woolen hats, and warm woolen scarves, such as the one I'm wearing in this picture:

Please note that my warm woolen scarf is a Harry Potter Gryffindor scarf, which some of you may recognize... The people I'm with are Erin, Sabrina, and Marisol (who is on the far right. She goes to Cambridge, and came to visit this weekend!).

Brown paper packages tied up with strings: I got a package from my parents today! It had a Calvin and Hobbes book, and a Get Fuzzy book, and the comics! The British don't have funny pages (maybe because the British aren't funny...?), and even their political cartoons aren't that hilarious. So I was psyched to get funny things.

Cream colored ponies: Okay, this one is a stretch: people ride cream-colored ponies, right? Well, I don't ride any ponies, but I do ride a bike! It has been amazing. Instead of walking 25 minutes to college, I get there in 7 (I timed it). I now have more time for reading, writing, and (most importantly) napping. Here is my bike:

It is named "The Pink Ugly."

And crisp apple strudel: This leads me back to dessert. Oh, man, do I love dessert. I've mentioned Digestives before, and several of you wondered if I was eating laxative cookies. I am not. Digestives are regular cookies. There are four kinds: regular (which are delicious with peanut butter); milk chocolate (my favorite); dark chocolate; and Cadbury chocolate. They are delicious. I don't know why they have such an unappealing name as "Digestives." They should be called "Deliciouses" or something.

Door bells and sleigh bells: This one is super weak, I'm sorry. Bells make music. So do organs (told you it was weak). On Sunday, I travelled to London with my church group, and we went into a big Methodist hall. Here is the organ:

The people are in the picture to show you how big it is. The largest pipes are 32 feet tall, and there are 4,371 pipes. It was very impressive (side note: I saw this organ on November 23, and I wished Mimi could have been there to play it).

And schnitzel with noodles: Food! I also love food. My eating schedule goes something like this: breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack, snack. And I get two Thanksgiving dinners, which I'll tell you about in the next post. I've been to several good restaurants here. In Cambridge, Jacque and I went to a really good pub called The Flying Pig:

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings: The geese here are different! This may sound obvious, but they don't have Canadian geese. They have Mother Goose geese! See:

I was so excited when I saw these. It was like all my childhood stories had been personified into a bird.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes: We get to dress up for Formal Hall every week, which is a lot of fun:

Sabrina, Joy, Robyn, Marisol, Erin.

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes: I find it hilarious that here, when it frosts, they get excited about the snow. They hardly even know what snow is! Silly Brits.

Silver white winters that melt into springs: Yeah, I've got nothing. I haven't been here for a winter or spring yet. I'll let you know what I think, though, no worries!

These are a few of my favorite things: Here are some more things that I like:

The Bodleian Library.

Insides of chapels, churches, and cathedrals. This is St. John's chapel (Daddy, I knew you'd like seeing the inside of a church!).

Hanging out in our flat in my pajamas. Erin likes doing that, too.

I also like comments on my blog posts. I hear from my parents that a how-to on posting comments may be useful. At the bottom of this post, there is a link that says "0 comments" or "1 comment" or something like that. Click on the link. Under the box that says "Leave Your Comment," type whatever you want. Below that, choose either "Name/URL," or "Anonymous." If you choose "Name/URL," then type your name in the box that comes up when you click it. Then click "Publish Your Comment," and the world will know that you are here (who can name the movie that quote comes from?).

So, when the dog bites (I miss my dog and cat), when the bee stings (...I miss bee-ing home?), when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorites things (including you!), and then I don't feel so bad.

More about England

Just so you know, I tried to think of a catchy title and witty beginning for this post. I read quotes on imdb.com (mostly from Muppet Treasure Island, my movie-of-the-week), I scoured my iTunes for good song titles (I seriously considered "Mmmbop" and "You Can't Stop the Beat", mostly to get you playing the Song Game again), and I even Googled "quotes about England" (I discovered that no one ever said anything interesting about England). So, there is my title, and here is my beginning:

Let's talk about differences again. I have now been to three cities in England, so I feel like an expert...sort of.

By the way, the British are very particular about what kind of municipality can be called a city. Unlike the US, where any group of people can call themselves a city if they want (this is why New York is a city and so is Branson), the British only call a place a city if it has a cathedral. London is a city not because it has something like seven million people; it is a city because it has a cathedral. A place with seven people could be a city if it had a cathedral. (This may not be entirely true, but it's what British people tell me.)

And speaking of cities, here is another difference: English cities have buildings that look like this:


(The Bridge of Sighs in Oxford); and this:

(St. John's College chapel in Cambridge, which I visited this week! Jacque was there. I was happy).

Now, I love America, but we just don't have a lot of stuff like this that compares. The reason? America is new. In England, people talk about buildings and laws and roads and traditions that are "just" 200 years old. In America, 200 years is most of the country's existence. Because England is so old, the British think they invented everything. This is not true. The world must thank America for: the cotton gin; toilet paper (bet you didn't know that one); vacuum cleaners (which the British call Hoovers, presumably because Herbert Hoover cleaned up a lot (this is a joke)); the airplane; crayons; the chocolate chip cookie (they do acknowledge this one, as they call chocolate chip cookies "American cookies"); e-mail; the space shuttle; and peanut butter. What have the British contributed? Apple pie (I know! "American as apple pie" is not a legitimate saying! My world was rocked too!); table-tennis; and Stephen Hawking.

The age of the country means that everything here is taller, because, you know, older things just keep growing up. Like trees and people and buildings, apparently. Doorknobs, key entries, locks: all are at the level of my shoulders. I'm short, but I'm not that short (jokes from little brothers need not be told here).

So, age is one difference between England and America. Another, of which I have written before but to which I'm going to return, is language (that's really how some of them talk). They don't call the back of a car a "trunk"; it's a "boot". They go to the "cinema" instead of the "movie theater." They don't say "sketch" when something is weird. They say "trousers" for anything with legs, and "pants" for underwear. This particular difference is a very important one to note. Often, I have stopped myself from commenting on how the rain has made my pants wet, because that makes me sound like I walk around outside unclothed. Which I don't do.

One of my favorite differences in language is how the Brits greet you. In America, we say "How are you?" and respond with something like "Fine, thanks!" Here, they say "You alright?" and respond with "Yeah." This presents several cultural divide differences. For the first three weeks I was here, I thought I looked upset all the time because people kept asking me if I was alright. Also, sometimes when you ask a British person, "How are you?", they say, "Yeah." This does not make sense unless you know that they think you asked them a yes-no question.

Also, here in England, and especially in Oxford, the British have one hobby: being safe. Their favorite things to do are to pet (declawed) kittens, look both ways before crossing the street, and eat all their vegetables. They love to be safe! (This paragraph brought to you for the benefit of any parents who may be sending their children to England in the near future.)

Another difference between England and America is that America is home and England is not. I'll be honest, I've been homesick. But, I've gotten postcards from friends and a pretty awesome collage from the Ohio Masons, AND my parents sent me flowers!

Aren't they beautiful?

So I do miss home, and I miss you, but I love being here. I'm doing so much more than finding out differences: I'm learning to navigate a city on a bike; I'm figuring out how to do a lot of homework in not very much time; I'm making new friends; I'm learning how to boil water to make pasta; I'm memorizing songs by Chicago and Frank Sinatra; I'm even doing my own laundry! And those are all good reasons to be here, I think.

Very important!

My address is actually:

Joy Mason
Flat 1
110c Banbury Road
Oxford, UK OX2 6JU

I forgot the 110c part of my address in my past post, which is potentially problematic. If you sent something to me and the address didn't have the 110c part on it (because you didn't know about it), I hope it gets sent back to you! If so, let my parents know, and they will be happy to pay for the postage for you to send it back to me. Sorry about that!

Barack Obama and Buddy Holly

Trivia question: What do Barack Obama and Buddy Holly have in common?

Trivia answer: I'm going to talk about both of them in this post.

Last Tuesday was Election Day, which was exciting for everyone in America, Kenya, and England (and probably some other places, too). Since England is five hours ahead of the East Coast and eight hours ahead of the West Coast, results didn't start rolling in to this country until about 1 in the morning on Wednesday. Because this was a historic election, and because I am in another country, and because I did not want to do work, I stayed up all night watching the BBC's (not-so-stellar) coverage of the results.

Our flat was very excited about the election. Our patriotism was so much that we sang American songs on the half-hour walk from our flat to Regent's (where we watched (and ridiculed) the BBC). We sang "America the Beautiful," "Yankee Doodle," and many other songs; we did not sing "The Star-Spangled Banner," because that's hard enough when you're not walking, and we can't sing that high.



When we got to Regent's, we found a party! Regent's has about 200 students; 40-50 of them crowded into our tiny TV room for the beginning of the coverage. That's a large percentage of people who care:




There were about 10 American students there, and the rest were British. Many of you have asked me about how the British view the election, what it was like to be here, etc. 95% of British people fall into one of two categories: either we-love-Obama; or we-hate-anyone-who-doesn't-love-Obama. It's sort of along the same lines as British politics. You know how America has the left and the right? Well, Britain has the left and the farther left.

It's amazing how much the British people care about who became our President. At the party, every time Obama won a state, they would cheer. Every time McCain won a state, their faces would become longer than John Kerry's. Though they had no say in the election, and though the results didn't technically directly affect them, they were so invested in the outcome. Their viewpoint is that America is the most powerful country on earth (true), that whatever America does, England will follow (also probably true), and that a Republican president would cause the downfall of Western civilization (debatable). When you look at it like that, it's no wonder they cared so much.

In light of all that, you would think the BBC would have put a lot of effort into making the election coverage good. While it's possible that they BBC did put a lot of effort into their coverage, their efforts did not work. We spent the night watching David Dimbleby say, "And now we take you to Florida...I think...where Ann Smith is waiting. Ann? Ann? ...Ann? ....can you hear us? ....Ann?" And Ann Smith (who is probably not in Florida, but instead in Colorado or Kenya) is fifteen feet away from the camera, nearly out of the frame, chewing her gum. The alternatives were a crazy American who was formerly the ambassador to the UK who didn't understand that "live television" means you shouldn't make a fool of yourself, or interviews with slightly or not-so-slightly drunken and jubilant Obama supporters.

And then Obama won, I watched the very excellent speeches (seriously, both candidate's speechwriters deserve a raise or at least some complimentary chocolates), and went to bed at 6 a.m., celebrating the fact that we can no longer speculate who will win and that British people will have to figure out other conversations to have with Americans.

Later that week, I went to London! I was quite thrilled to get out of Oxford and see some more of England. My housemate Erin came with me:



We would have been literally and figuratively lost without the maps I got from a pretty cool travel agent in Kansas City (thanks, Aunt Debbie!). And we met some of my friends who are attending Cambridge, including my very good friend Jacque who I missed a lot:



We ate lunch at a tavern that gave us American-size portions (read: a piece of chicken bigger than my head and enough fries to put Steak-and-Shake out of business). It was delicious.

Then, Erin and I went to see a show. Now, we did not think things through very carefully, and we tried to buy tickets for a 3 p.m. show at 2 p.m. The tickets agents thought we were insane, which is possible. Our only options were "Buddy" for 23 pounds or "Hairspray" for 62 pounds. Since we are poorish, we decided to take a gamble on "Buddy." We had no idea what to expect: either it would be awesome, and we would feel good about spending our money; or it would be awful, and we would have a good story to tell.

It was awesome. While the plot line of Buddy's Holly's career was thinner than Cindy McCain's eyebrows, the music was amazing and the musicians were incredible. The double-bass player played his bass while holding it above his head; while lying on top of it; one-handed; upside-down; and backwards. The actor playing Buddy Holly played an amazing guitar solo while holding the guitar behind his head, and he sang a 30-second long part of "Johnny B. Goode" in one breath (that may not sound like much, but you try singing "His mother told him 'Someday you will be a man, and you will be the leader of a big old band. Many people coming from miles around to hear you play your music when the sun go down. Maybe someday your name will be in lights saying Johnny B. Goode tonight'" in one breath). It was totally worth the 23 pounds we paid, especially because we were the youngest people there by a good 15 years, and a bunch of middle-aged British women and one very uncomfortable British man got up and danced in the aisles at the end.

So what do Buddy Holly and Barak Obama have in common? Buddy Holly rocked the music world, and Obama ba-rocked the vote.

A British boy asked me to marry him, but I told him no.

Okay, that's not true. But I got your attention! I figured that heading would be a lot more eye-catching than "My daily schedule" or something. Because now, I'm pulling a bait-and-switch: instead of talking about a fictional proposal, I'm going to talk about my daily life.

Here's how my life goes:
--wake up either to the sun (silent and nice) or to my alarm clock (annoying and tiny). Nearly crush clock in attempt to turn it off without falling out of bed
--turn computer on, check Facebook
--eat breakfast/check e-mail/check news/check Facebook/listen to Celtic Thunder (Dyanne: Celtic Thunder came out with a second CD!)
--take shower, wish that British shower-tubs made sense
--get dressed, wish I brought more clothes, and miss wearing flip-flops
--check Facebook
--most mornings, leave house to go to a lecture in one of the ugliest buildings in Oxford (the good citizens of Oxford went through this phase in the 60s and 70s when they thought, "Hey! This beautiful old architecture is cool and all, but why don't we build all our new buildings out of concrete Kleenex boxes, broken glass, and discarded airport control towers! That'll be so aesthetically pleasing and matching and stuff!").
--after lecture, walk to Regent's (rocking out to Celtic Thunder on the iPod I borrowed from Abbie). And, behold! Regent's!

Okay, this actually isn't Regent's yet. The building on the left is St. Cross College. The building on the right is the Oxfam bookstore (where they sell Geobars, the best granola bar anywhere, ever), a newsstand, and The Eagle and Child. Regent's is behind Oxfam...

...right here! The wall on the right is the outside wall of Regent's. And here...

...is the inside courtyard of Regent's! I wish I had taken this picture before the leaves fell off the tree. Oh, well. Anyway, Regent's is a very tiny college. The courtyard is maybe as big as a football field, if not smaller. There are many more impressive colleges in Oxford (as you will see later), but I think Regent's is very pretty. And now, to return you to our regularly-scheduled walk through my day:

--lunch at 1:00. Eat too much (again) and wish the Brits knew how to properly spice food. Wonder at how the food can be so good and so bland at the same time.
--on Tuesdays at 3: go to Victorian Literature tutorial at Regent's. Listen to professor act out all the parts from the novels I just read, get hungry, wonder where the padding in my armchair disappeared to.
--on Fridays at 4: go to Oscar Wilde tutorial at Magdalen (reminder: pronounced Maudlin) College. Marvel at Magdalen College, because it looks like this:

And this:

Also, Magdalen College has a deer park. ALSO, C.S. Lewis taught there, and Oscar Wilde and a king of England (Edward VIII) went there.

--eat dinner at Regent's at 7:00. Revel in dessert.

--go home, eat Digestives, wish that six-hour time difference between here and Kansas City did not exist, listen to Celtic Thunder.

--go to sleep at midnightish.

In between all this, I've joined several activities and groups here in Oxford, which I will be sure to tell you about soon. And in between all the activities and groups and tutorials and lectures and eating, I do homework.

In my Victorian Literature tutorial, I am studying five authors and three poets in eight weeks. I am assigned novels or poems on Tuesdays, which I read from Tuesday to Saturday. This means that from Tuesday to Saturday, I read, on average, 250 pages a day. This is a lot of work for me (although, as I type this, I'm thinking of Laura in medical school laughing at me, saying, "You think that's work? I'll show you work!"). Sundays and Mondays, I write my paper over the novels/poems. I've gotten my essay-writing down to an art. It's just the kind of art where you throw some paint on the canvas, lay in the paint, wriggle around a bit, and call it good.

My Oscar Wilde tutorial only happens every other week. I read about 40 pages a day for that one, because I have two weeks in which to do my work.

Finally, in between my homework and meals and later-to-be-explained activities, I do have fun. For instance, last week there was a costume party for Halloween. Erin wasn't able to make it, but Sabrina, Robyn and I dressed as three Greek goddesses:

I was Hera, Sabrina was Aphrodite, and Robyn was Athena. We even had a "Golden Apple" (i.e. an orange with a stem drawn on it).

Here are some of our friends. Most of these people are American, except the cowboy (ironically), the ghost, and the two cat-girls on the left.

So, in my life, I eat a lot of Digestives (you're right, Aunt Debbie, they are some of the best cookies ever made), I read a lot of books, and I make a lot of friends. None of them have proposed to me, though.

Photos of my life

I decided to post some more photos, since I know people enjoy them.

This is an example of our at-home dinners. We have taken all of the rooms for bedrooms, and so we have no common area other than the kitchen and bathroom. Since it's generally considered bad practice to dine near a toilet, and since our kitchen is full of a mammoth clothes-drying rack, we usually eat in Robyn's room! This meal was cooked by Sabrina, and it was quite yummy. Sabrina's the one with the fork in her mouth, Robyn's holding a duck, Erin has a purple shirt, and Bill is the boy. Bill does not live with us.

This picture is an example of how we like to play games. This game is called "The Face Game." Here's how you play: one person has a camera. They say something, like, "Your television has exploded" or "You just found out you're an alien," and you have to react. The camera person takes a picture of your reactions, and afterward, you look at the pictures and laugh. This picture was a reaction to the statement, "Oxford's on fire!" I would particularly like to point out Robyn's reaction, which seems to be something along the lines of, "Eh, it's good, I can handle it." This also reminds me of "The Song Game." This game can (and should) be played anywhere. If, in normal conversation, a word or phrase makes you think of a song, then you sing that song. I bet sometime in the post, you will play this game.

This is Robyn and me in The Eagle and Child. The Eagle and Child is the pub where C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien met quite often and eventually came up with the ideas for The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. Robyn and I did not come up with any ideas for novels, but since it's a small world after all, maybe we will sometime (yes, I realize that made no sense. But hey, now you're playing The Song Game!).

These are all the Oxbridgers who live in Oxford: Robyn, Erin, me, Lydia, Sabrina, and Bill. This is outside The Eagle and Child.

And this is just a funny story. These are my inadvertantly-created wine-glass sculptures. I broke all three of them within 48 hours. I knocked one over with my robe, I dropped one from above my head, and I broke another drying it. The ironic thing is, I don't drink. The funny thing is that I'm no longer allowed to touch the wineglasses.

Coming soon: pictures of where I take tutorials and the song that never ends and pictures from other places around Oxford.

Oh, see, now you're playing The Song Game again...

Contact information again

Reid said I should post my address so that people could send me stuff. Since, hey, I am definitely up for people sending me stuff:

Joy Mason
Flat 1
110c Banbury Road
Oxford, UK OX2 6JU

OR

Joy Mason
Regent's Park College
Pusey Street
Oxford, UK OX1 2LB

You can also e-mail me at masonj@william.jewell.edu, Skype me at joymarie6, or Facebook me at "Joy Mason."

If you do want to send me something, I would really appreciate pictures! (Well, there are actually a lot of things I would appreciate, but I doubt anyone's going to send me a clothes dryer, a bike, or Madison McGraw.) I don't have a photo printer here, and my walls are bare, so I would love to be able to put up pictures of YOU! You can turn a picture into a postcard really easily if you put a stamp on the back, by the way.

Break time

I’d like to take this opportunity to answer some of the questions that have been posed to me and to reply to some of the comments and to tell the stories I’ve promised.

Okay, let’s be honest. I’d really like to take this opportunity to not do homework.

Important things first: I mailed in my absentee ballot today, and Trent Skaggs, I voted for you.

Several people have asked me about the weather here, and have expressed wishes that I won’t get too depressed by all the rain. Well, lucky me, there hasn’t been much rain! So far, the weather here has been beautiful. It’s in the 50s or 60s or sometimes even 70s during the day. The nights are pretty dang chilly, but I just turn up my radiator and pile on socks. It is raining today, though. So far, the rain here hasn’t been like the big, cleansing thunderstorming Missouri rains. Here, it rains just heavily enough to wrap you in condensation until beads of water drip off your nose and chin and umbrella.

I’ve also been warned about the food, and, again, I can report glad tidings of peace and good food for all Oxfordians. The ketchup does taste a little weird, but not really like vinegar. However, there are very few times we have ketchup. Regent’s apparently just hired a new caterer named Mark, and he is quite excellent. We have potatoes a lot, which make me happy and carbohydrated, and Mark firmly believes in delicious desserts, often accompanied by custard. If I didn’t walk a billion miles a day, I would be ballooning like Violet Beauregard in Willy Wonka (although I would not be turning blue).

Let’s return to different words that British people say. Specifically, let’s talk about about “bloody.” Oddly enough, I haven’t heard one person say “bloody.” I am surprised, because they say “bloody” all the time in Harry Potter movies! Clearly, the Harry Potter movies are not to be trusted as indicative of modern British life (this is also because the Harry Potter movies are about magic. I have yet to see an elf or a flying broom, and no matter how many times I say “Reducto!” while pointing my pencil-wand at my stack of books, the amount of work I have to do stays the same). Anyway, rather than saying “bloody,” the British use all sorts of other four-letter words that may sound familiar to you. Not that I’m going to repeat them here.

My former roommate and future Oxford-mate Madison asked me if she should pack hangers. This made me laugh, because it took me five days—five days!—to find hangers in Oxford. Since we didn’t know what any of the stores were (is WDSmith a clothing shop? A hardware store?), we continually passed the one shop in the city that carries hangers. It got to the point where we thought the Oxfordians were fashioning their own primitive hangers out of tree branches and twist-ties. Dear Madison: don’t pack hangers, but do pack Newsies please. I miss Christian Bale. Which is ironic, since he’s British.

I have now been to three churches: a non-denominational one; a Methodist one; and an Anglican one. Someone spoke in tongues at the non-denominational one, the body of Christ tasted like Styrofoam at the Anglican one, and I liked the Methodist one best because they gave me a free lunch.

It’s been great to hear stories from people who have been to Oxford or England or Europe. I like knowing that others I know have been here before me—it makes a sort of connection from home to here. E-mails and comments and even postcards are also great connections from home to here…

Where I live, part 2

Part of the cool thing about Where I Live is the people. They are, generally, British (surprise!). I have learned that "British" could mean English, Scottish, Irish, or Welsh. In addition to the British, there are actually a lot of Americans here. It's pretty easy to tell the difference between the British and the Americans, though. Here's why.

Speaking. Obviously, we have different accents, which I have noted at least twice. But we also use different words. They say "pudding," we say "dessert." This discovery was a relief to me, because I was envisioning nine months of eating different flavors of Snack Packs. They say "one week Saturday" instead of "one week from Saturday." Clearly, this is more efficient. Also, they call restrooms "toilets." I asked a porter at Magdalen College (which, by the way, is pronounced "Maudlin" for reasons unknown by anyone in the world) where to find the restrooms, and he said, "We say toilets here, love, you don't do any resting in them." They also call this # a hash mark rather than a pound mark. However, another American, a British girl, and I took a vote to decide what to call #, and pound won. Go democracy!

Appearance. While not all the British look the same (and vice versa with the Americans), there might be a few clues. For instance, the British girls seem to favor a hair dye that leaves their hair purply-red. This is something I do not understand. Also, if a person is wearing sunglasses, then they are generally American. I think the British don't wear sunglasses because they think, "Why bother? It's going to rain in ten minutes anyway."

Awareness. Whenever the British talk about the state of their country, they nearly always say, "here and in the U.S." They are ardently following our Presidential election (most support Obama), and they know who Jay Leno, David Letterman, and Tina Fey are. In contrast, most Americans can't remember the new Prime Minister (Gordon Brown), we don't know how the Queen fits into politics (she doesn't), and we can't name one British comedian other than Eddie Izzard (and most of us can't even name Eddie Izzard). Americans are very American-centric, while most Brits are world-aware. Or at least America-aware.

Names. Most of the guys my age are named Matthew, Mark, John (nearly all the gospels!), James (never Jim), or Ed. There are no Steves, Tylers, or Brians. The girls have more variety of names, but none of them are named Erin, Robyn, Sabrina, or Joy. Whenever they hear Sabrina's name, they think "Oh! Sabrina the Teenage Witch!" (this is no joke. Three British people have told me this). Whenever they hear my name, they think they heard wrong. After I repeat my name, then they think it's pretty cool. Although the chaplain thinks my name is Jo. Since she's kind of nutty, I let her think that.

Americans and Brits are also the same sometimes. We all like cookies and good food, and we like doing things that aren't homework. We think Monty Python is funny, and we're not sure if Heath Ledger should get an Oscar. We argue over whether or not Andrew Lloyd Webber is overrated. We wonder what we're going to do for the rest of our lives. And we all speak English. Kind of.

Where I live

I thought I would only post pictures of the place where I live (hence the title), but I've decided to post several other pictures as well (and keep the title).

This is the pile of clothes I brought. It doesn't look like much until you try to fit it into two suitcases. Then it's a lot. And then when you unpack, it doesn't look like much again. Go figure.

This is what my living room looked like while I was packing.

This is part of my room. It's the second incarnation of my room, as I rearranged today in order to get my computer closer to the six-inch-thick wireless stream that runs down the middle of the house.

This is another part of my room.

And this is how I dry my clothes. The English do not believe in convenience (among other things, like the French President, France, and normal-sized drinking glasses)(although they do believe in potatoes at every meal, which I support). We have no dryers, I have seen exactly...zero! water fountains in all of Oxford, and there are brand new water faucets in our house that separate the hot and cold water. I think this is why the English do not smile. (Actually, side story: a Brit told me that when you smile at people on the street, it is a sign of aggression. As in gorilla and chimpanzee culture. As in, "Grr, I'm going to attack you." No wonder they looked scared when I walked down the street.) (Side story number 2: Even though I make fun of them, I really do like the English and Scottish and Irish and Welsh and the random Canadians and Americans here. With this disclaimer, I release myself from all the negative effects of political incorrectness.)

This is our house. We live on the ground floor, which is nice, because we have zero flights of stairs to climb after walking all the way from college. It is true, we are lazy.

I live with these lovely people. The tall one is Erin, the blond one is Sabrina, and the one who is left who is not me is Robyn, and I am the one looks like me. This was taken after Formal Hall (formal dinner), which happens every Friday night.

I hope this short look into Where I Live has been instructive and interesting. More to come, including the stories I promised a few posts ago (shopping, church, pubs, the Song Game, and more!).

The Wizard of Oz

This post's theme is "The Wizard of Oz," and everything I write about will somehow connect to that wonderful book/movie. (Imagine it as a sort of compare-contrast essay and it will all make sense.)

The Wizard of Oz was first, as you all know, a book by L. Frank Baum. This particular book is often found in libraries, including libraries here in the United Kingdom. (This topic sentence is my weakest connection to my thesis, which is why it comes first. My high-school English teachers should be proud.) I thought that many of you, especially my friends at the NKCPL, would be interested in hearing about the libraries in Oxford.

There is a public library here, which I have already enjoyed, although you must rent rather than borrow DVDs, a practice that should never, ever be adopted in the U.S. There are also libraries connected with Oxford University. Prepare to be awed. The Oxford University Library System employs over 660 staff members in over 100 locations which contain over 160 miles of shelving that house over 9 million items. The Bodleian, the crown jewel of Oxford's libraries, has been collecting materials since the 16th century. Since 1911, it has been entitled to one of every book that is published in the United Kingdom and Ireland. That's roughly 5000 books a week. My reaction to this news was, to quote the Cowardly Lion, "Shucks, folks, I'm speechless!"

I saw someone this afternoon who reminded me of Mrs. Gulch. She had a basket on her bike, and she rode while sitting straight up, rather than bending over her handlebars. Many people in Oxford ride bikes or walk, which is one of my favorite things about Oxford so far. Unlike in Kansas City, in Oxford nearly everything you need is within walking or biking distance. As a result, the air here is much cleaner, the streets are much prettier, and the people are much thinner. Walking has also been a great way for me to learn my way around the city.

The Wizard of Oz is significant for me as a Mid-Westerner in England. Why, you ask? Well, when people ask where I'm from, I say "Missouri," and I get polite but uninterested nods. But if I say "Kansas City," they go, "Oh! Kansas! The Wizard of Oz!!" Then they proceed to tell me how it makes no sense that Kansas City is in Missouri instead of Kansas, an argument with which I fully agree.

You know how in the movie version of The Wizard of Oz, there are parallels between the people in the Kansas scenes and the people in the Oz scenes? For instance, the actors who play Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke also play the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. Basically, Dorothy is seeing familiar faces in her adventures. Well, that seems to be happening to me, as well. I keep “recognizing” people. As the best example, have you ever seen the Pixar short with the old man who plays chess against himself? If not, then: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUH8ITk0yaw. Anyway, the senior tutor at Regent's Park looks exactly like Geri.

If your last name is Mason (or Barczewski), then you may remember a particular infamous game of charades. For those of you who are not Masons, we were given the clues “wrist,” “hard,” “of,” and “ah.” As in “Wrist-hard of ah,” which was supposed to be “Wizard of Oz.” This is sort of what listening to British accents is like. You hear some sounds and have to put them together into real English words. It leads to some embarrassing moments, some awkward moments, and some funny moments. We were talking about TV the other night, and a Brit named Ed (which, by the way, is pronounced “Idt”) was talking about the American show Tune Have ‘Em. At least, that’s what it sounded like. I figured I just hadn’t heard of it, until he mentioned Charlie Sheen. Tune Have ‘Em=Two and a Half Men. To quote Henry Hudgins in My Fair Lady, “Why can’t the English learn to speak?”

I am now at the end of my England-Wizard of Oz post, and, Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas any more! (Unfortunately, while I am able to connect everything to The Wizard of Oz, I clearly could not sufficiently transition between thoughts. If this were an essay, I would get full marks for "topics of paragraphs connect to thesis" but fail on "transitional sentences." From the bottom of my English-major heart, I apologize.)

In England

I made it! Unfortunately, my access to Internet is currently very limited, so I'll be unable to post often until Regent's Park College (that's where I'm going to school, by the way) figures something out for us. On the bright side, longer posts I get to write! On the downside...longer posts for you to read!

We left Kansas City on Wednesday, stopped in Chicago, and then flew a very long way into Heathrow, London. I couldn't sleep on the plane, so I watched a few movies and allowed my thoughts to drift to such important considerations as, "Greenland is really big, and it has a lot of ice," "I like alliteration!" and "On Ugly Betty, how do they do America Ferrera's braces?" It was a very long flight. Of course, I had the lovely Robyn (from Jewell) to keep me company (although she slept, jammy her (jammy is a Britishism I learned. It means "lucky," but only in the sense that "I wanted that but she got it.")).

Upon our arrival in Heathrow, we collected our 111ish pounds worth of luggage, and tried to walk with it. Then, an airport worker came up and was like, “You should put those on a trolley.” Except his accent was so thick, Robyn and I heard “You mpadgshpasdngipontolley.” Or something like that. He had to say it three times before we understood him. Once we figured it out, we got trolleys for our luggage. Have you ever pushed an airport trolley? It's kind of like trying to drive a Greyhound bus using only your nose. Or like playing MarioKart. Robyn and I nearly ran down at least eight people, and I definitely ran over my foot. Then this Scottish man showed us that the trolleys had brakes!

And then, yada yada yada, we ended up at Regent's in Oxford (by yada yada yada, I mean long queues, bus drive, taxi ride, crazy attack pigeons...). There, we joined Erin (also from Jewell), and we met David Harper, the bursar at Regent's. He is very nice and smiles a lot, especially for a British person.

More yada yada yada of food and driving and talking, and there we were at our house! We are on the first floor. Our second floor housemates are Hannah and Andy (married, Andy's a M.Th/pastoral student at Regent's), and we got to have tea with them on Thursday night. Turns out I like tea, who knew? Our third floor housemates are Martin and Bobbie (married with two girls, Martin's in the same program as Andy), and they have invited us for lunch tomorrow. They all seem quite nice.

In two days, I have learned that the British say literally a lot. Except it's "litrelly" and they never mean it. As in, "Joy and Robyn and Erin litrelly got here just this minute," when, in fact, we arrived six hours ago. Americans do this, too (Biden, anyone?), just not as often as the British. The British also don't smile much, with the exception of David Harper and some other Regent's people. Since I am a nice Mid-Westerner, I smile at everyone I meet on the street. The few Bristish people that accidentally smile back at me immediately get this look on their face that says, "Disregard that!! I didn't mean to be friendly!!" Which makes me want to smile at them even more.

So far culture shock hasn't set in, except for the fact that there are no clothing hangers to be found in the UK. Also, I've walked more in two days than I have in the past two years. I thought Jewell was good exercise, but that's nothing compared to here.

I get to talk to my family in ten minutes (yay!), so I'll end this post here. Tune in next time to hear stories of shopping, church, pubs, the Song Game, libraries, and more!

I am in a backwards country...

...that apparently does not believe in the Internet.

Packing

Packing is such a big deal. I had a great plan originally: I was going to pack two weeks ahead of time, let it sit for a week, and then get everything out again and get rid of some stuff, then pack again. I figured that way, I could pack everything I think I need initially, and then take out a lot of non-essentials the second time. Yes, packing twice sounded like a good plan.

Two Wednesdays ago, I contemplated packing. And I realized: I need nearly everything I'm going to pack! So, to claim that I had started packing, I dumped some stuff that had been sitting in my basement all summer (read: stuff that is non-essential) in a suitcase and called it good.

This Wednesday, I decided to pack all my clothes. I left the clothes I want to take in a suitcase so that I wouldn't get confused and wear them. I discovered that I have quite a surplus of shirts, but I have been wearing the same shorts for three days now.

And I haven't even started on shoes. You think you can make do with just a few pairs of shoes, but really, you can't. I need at least two pairs of tennis shoes, five pairs of dress shoes, and seven pairs of casual shoes. At least! And don't even get me started on purses and bags.

Oh, and what about books? I generally bring a small library of books to school with me, but I'm not sure how that's going to be possible this time. I'll have to leave my cookie cookbook (the British are going to miss out), my Jane Austen collection (which makes no sense to leave behind, I'm going to England!), my Authoritative Calvin and Hobbes...

I can take two 50-pound, 62-inch suitcases, one carry-on suitcase, and one backpack. Please, someone, tell me how I'm supposed to fit my life in those.

Contact information

While I'm in England, I would love to hear from you! I won't have a cell phone, but I will have e-mail (masonj@william.jewell.edu or godsjoy116@yahoo.com), Facebook, and Skype. Also, my address will be:
Joy Mason
Regent's Park College
Pusey Street
Oxford, England OX1 2LB.

Let me know how everything's going for you!

Congratulations!

Today is your day! You're off to Great Places! You're off and away!

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own and you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things happen, don't worry. Don't stew. Just go right along. You'll start happening too.

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!

You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So...get on your way!