Who am I?!

Location ~ Socially Constructed but Universally Existant

Date ~ 9 November 2003

Here it is. Half term and the head hits the books. I'd like to say I've been an Oxford Student for a little over a month now, and I think it's true, but as this Journal will show, so little is certain in my life. Picture a cold morning, student's in sub fusc (black suits, white bow ties, cloaks for the blokes, black skirts and stockings, white blouses, black string ties, and cloaks for the girls) gathered in the six hundred year old Quad in New College. The Dean stands on the steps leading to Hall in his full academic dress reading aloud the names of those Matriculating (officially entering the University to study for a degree). 'Edwards?' 'Present.' 'Elton?' 'Here.' 'Fairchild?' 'Here.' Hang on. . . I look to my friend. 'Tamson, they didn't call my name.' 'What does that mean?' 'I don't know. They didn't call my name, Tamson.' You know, of all the lists that my name should be on at Oxford, I think this one probably ranks up around the top. The Dean finished calling names and then asked, 'Is there anyone here whose name I didn't call?' Up goes the hand! 'Your name?' 'Samuel Evans.' flip, flip, flip. Pause. He slowly looks up from the list. Do I detect the slightest hint of smirk on his lips? 'And what makes you think, Mr. Evans, that you are Matriculating today?' Oh boy. How do you really answer that? I mean, honestly, that's really a question I for one would like to be able to answer clearly! Alas, I could not. He called me forward, and I took those few steps up to his elevated state to discuss the matter. Eventually, I got him to pencil (!) my name on the list. And so I went through the whole ceremony in a half daze. Is this really it? Am I really becoming an Oxford Student? Who am I now?? Crikey. If we define ourselves by our identification with the world around us, not only am I schizophrenic, I'm not even sure I exist! a useful distinction I have found this term is to delineate my world into three parts (kind of like Gaul): the House, the Business School, and the MCR at New College. My House is a place of quite study in the day, a relaxed atmosphere with 4 others at night when they return home from work (3 other them are no longer students). The Business School has all of the other students in my course (20-something of them) and we engage in studying together as well as analysing the situation we find ourselves in. We, the students, have a great deal of power in the School and are able to do a lot to shape our own course of study. We are a very social group, and mix well together. And then, there is the Graduate student body at New College (the Middle Common Room, or MCR). The incoming students this year are fantastic and I have had an enjoyable time getting to know a good number of them. We study together, party together, and talk about life over long sips of tea. I am developing friendships all over, and never spending a majority of time in any one place. I am not a different person in each context, but neither am I always the same. I take off my bike helmet, enter a door, and pass through another moment in my life - a moment defined so differently than the last. I have returned to Reservoir Books, my favourite coffeeshop-cum-bookstore-cum-cultural centre, to find a part of me that has been lost lately. I have been heavily social in the last five weeks. Constantly around others, I hadn't realised how little room I was giving my soul to breathe. And so I sit alone on this little candlelit coffeeshop table as evening comes early, breathing deeply and stretching the wings of my individuality. So much of my readings right now deal with the social construction of reality, of how the world as we know it is a result of the experiences we share with others and what we make of them. In general, I accept this stance, as I believe it is very useful in trying to understand how people see the same issue from very different perspectives. But there is a part of life that cannot be described through social interaction. It is the part of life that I experience when I walk down the tree-lined stone-walled Parks Road, with the Autumn leaves rustling at my feet. It is encapsulated by the moments I have in the Cloisters in New College in the middle of a clear, crisp night, silently gazing at the stars above the moonlit spires. There is nothing social about these experiences for me. It is a chance for my individuality to touch an existence so much greater than I am. I detach myself from the world I have created in this thing we call civilisation and find not an emptiness or a void, but a succulent feast for my soul. I am only human, these moments remind me, and there is so much in the universe that is outside of humanity. I am powerful among man, but hopelessly beyond my abilities with God. What matters in this life? For me, it is the connections my spirit makes, to my family, my friends, and that which exists outside of any social subjectification. Who am I? The answer is continuously being reshaped, moulded and unmade. I am an adventure, a life, a being. Today, I get to enjoy it once more. ~Sam