Hello,
The last time I wrote term had not started, I was in the middle of frantically revising for Collections, and I was otherwise enveloped by an overwhelming listlessness that threatened to turn a term that was intended as the consummation of its predecessor six months ago into a mundane crawl towards a mid-table finish – not unlike the typical Fulham season, or the rather banal ending to the life of Sebastian Flyte. It is, therefore, extremely pleasing to be able to write that the cobwebs may at last have been dusted off, the listlessness may at last have lifted, and that I have enjoyed possibly the two most agreeable weeks at Oxford since coming up. The first two weeks have, in a sense, mirrored the first two of Michaelmas in that most things seem to have gone as desired or planned. It is rather difficult to know which to relay first – many things have happened of personal significance, and in a number of different areas.
Given my writing aspirations (and the fact that I too often begin with running-related matters) I think that the first newsworthy item was my finding out, four or five days ago, that one of my poems has been selected to be published in an Oxford poetry anthology. The news was unexpected and incredibly validating – it is rather different to publishing a poem in a school anthology or newsletter, I think. Whether this is a fluke or otherwise, I do not know, but it has certainly provided me with added impetus to keep composing and putting pieces together, and hopefully continue improving. The current project at my tutor’s Creative Writing workshop is cursing – poems predicated on anger – and I completed a rather satisfactory, if unexceptional, curse a few hours ago. I shall spend the next week attempting to edit and polish it before the next communal session. For anybody who is interested, the poem is called Fleur-de-Lys, and can actually be found in an earlier post on this blog.
Pushing sport to the side for a while, I also had a relatively successful Collections. I received my Modern Literature collection back today, and managed to get 68 overall – 67, 70 and 68 being the individual essay marks. Naturally, after a hugely disappointing Collection in January, I was very pleased to improve to a level that makes a Distinction still within reach – of course, further improvement is still necessary and to rest on my laurels now would be utterly foolish. Nevertheless, the mark was the boost I needed after returning to Oxford feeling an extreme lack of interest towards the impending Prelims. Managing another sixty-eight in an Introduction to Literary Studies essay was another catalyst to recovery. Receiving my Old English Collection tomorrow may be rather less edifying an experience, but irrespective of the mark, I shall attempt to make up whatever difference is necessary over the next six weeks.
Continuing on the theme of English, it came to my attention over the Vacation that there is no English Society at Oxford. They have the Oxford Poetry Society, of which I am a member, and the Failed Novelists Society, which I am a (card-carrying) member, but these appeared to me to be rather niche and specific – there is no body that endeavours to get the entire English undergraduate body together. Recently, therefore, I have been in the process of trying to start an English Society. Thus far, this has merely consisted of speaking to a few other organised and literary-minded students, and inviting them to help me set it up, but it has still gone very smoothly thus far. After a proper meeting on Sunday, all should become clearer, but I am hopeful that the endeavour will be successful.
So on the academic and literary front, all is progressing rather smoothly. The same can be said on the sporting front. Long-term readers of this blog will recall my intention to beat my 5000m PB at Track Cuppers, and preferably run under 17:30. Track Cuppers was held on Saturday, and, after a good training week, I went into the event feeling like I was in the best form I’d been in since July. Despite running a rather moronic first kilometer – 3:20, which can be extrapolated to an obviously implausible finishing time of 16:40 -I managed to come through the 5000 in 17:43, which is eleven seconds off the PB from July. Whether I can make much more improvement is dubious: I think that breaking 17:30 will, so long as I continue to play football, be the best I can hope for. Irrespective, training recently has been both successful and enjoyable, and long may that continue. Teddy Hall have entered a team of twenty-five to take on Queens in the Town v Gown 10K on May 12th; we aim to not only assert our sporting superiority over our neighbours, but also raise more money than them for the Muscular Dystrophy Campaign. I have not checked how the fundraising is going yet, but am certain that the Hall will prove superior in both running and philanthropy. In a moment of hubris, I also entered Croquet Cuppers, with Humbert Humbert et al. Now, I have never played croquet before, which may prove problematic when it actually comes to picking up a mallet, but we have managed to reach the second round without hitting a ball, by virtue of our opponents pulling out. 5-a-side Football Cuppers begun successfully yesterday, winning games against St. Johns (3-0 by virtue of their not turning up), St. Anne’s (4-0) and New College (2-1). Unfortunately, today only one other player in the squad decided to grace Iffley with their presence, meaning that I had to recruit a rugby player and Blues swimmer who were, fortunately, in the Powerlifting gym as the game was scheduled to kick off. Our numerical disadvantage and imports from other sports proved telling, and we lost 1-0 and 2-0. This means we shall probably be eliminated at the first stage, which, as one can no doubt imagine, is rather irksome given our first-day performance. Furthermore, given the absenteeism was no doubt attributable to Mayday being the night before and no other reason, one can also imagine my frustration.
The only other noteworthy event of the first fortnight back was the Exeter Ball, which I shall talk about more fully for those coming up next year (and those merely curious about some of the more grandiose aspects of the Oxford Experience) tomorrow or over the weekend. I’ll also try and talk about something more interesting than myself over the next week as well, but I did feel like a positive, jovial entry would make a pleasant change from the norm. It may be that, at last, the process of metanoia – that which involves the psyche ‘dealing with unbearable conflict by breaking down and rebuilding itself in a more adaptable form’ has finally finished. It is of course true that, if this is the case, the period of breakdown was inordinately long, but the rebuilding has taken an agreeably short time.
Have a pertinent poem to finish off:
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:
“Pipe a song about a Lamb!”
So I piped with merry cheer.
“Piper, pipe that song again;”
So I piped: he wept to hear.
“Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!”
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
“Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read.”
So he vanished from my sight,
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
Regards,
Jack
jacknmoran 