Students at Oxford have an expression, “fifth-week blues,” that describes the feeling of being somewhat burnt-out and discouraged that there is still a good deal of term to go. I almost laughed when I was first asked if I was experiencing this feeling: just the opposite in fact. I feel as though I just flew back from Christmas break and suddenly, snap of the fingers, term only has a few weeks left. I realized on Sunday that half of my academic time at Oxford is over (of three terms, I’ve just passed the 1.5 term mark).
Do I still feel somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of work I have left this term? Absolutely. It’s funny too because just when I feel like I’m reaching the peak of my work load, suddenly there are tons of cool events that I’m dying to go to, even more so than usual. My schedule is becoming a bit more stressful, especially with having two weeks in a row of two tutorials, due to my food poisoning.
It’s hard to express what I’m feeling at this point in my study-abroad life. I suppose there’s nothing terribly monumental going on this week (then again, can anything in my life be described as "monumental"?), and it does feel as though I’ve been building up this portrayal of my life here at Oxford piece by piece, blog post by post: have I said all there is to be said? Hopefully not. I have this wonderful feeling I have a great deal to experience still in my time here, even if it does feel like I’ll wake up tomorrow and pack to go home with how fast it’s all going.
I’m reaching this really great point in my study abroad experience—and I feel as though you may laugh when you read this—where I’ve made friends. In fact, I may be blushing a bit at the thought that those friends could be reading this. I don’t mean to say I’ve had a lacking social life since I’ve been here, by any means; it’s just that it feels like more of my friends are becoming close friends, more of my acquaintances friends, and more familiar faces are becoming acquaintances. It really is a lovely feeling to walk around Oxford any given day of the week and see someone I know across the street, in the library, at a restaurant. Mansfield feels like...well home in a way: I’m starting to feel like more than just my little pigeon hole belongs to me at college, that I can lay claim to the library, the JCR, like the portraits lining the halls secretly smile as I walk past, as though the little hobbit cave that is our bar has a seat waiting for me.
My bike naturally traverses the same streets, the same path from college to my dorm, from my dorm to the Bodleian, from my dorm to my tutorials. My feet tread with assuredness on that walk down to Tescos, the gravel path up to the entrance to college, the block to my favorite panini shop from college, from my dorm to Magdalen for evensong, from the library to get tea. My hand grips the rail casually, with familiarity, as I descend the stairs at my dorm, the stairs at the Radcliffe Camera, the stairs at college, the stairs at the English and History Faculty Libraries. Everything, all of my favorite haunts are becoming familiar in a really beautiful—certainly not mundane—way.
I’m trying to hold onto my awe nonetheless, of the Camera edging into my peripheral vision as I emerge from Catte Street, of the fountain at Christ Church, the exhilaration I feel when crossing over Magdalen Bridge into the energy of the centre of town, the beautiful accents I’m noticing less, the sensation of drinking a pint of cider which we don’t have back home.
I want it all to go on forever—well, okay, not really but at least longer than the time I’ve been allotted here, probably precisely because it’s the time I’ve been allotted. There is that feeling that just as I’m settling in, really feeling like this is my city, this is my university, these are my people, it’s all slipping away already. Have I tried to tell myself, just enjoy it while it lasts, relax, you have months left? Yep. Multiple times. It doesn’t matter. I’m somewhat pessimistic or cynical or unnecessarily worrisome or something; I just can’t seem to forget the transience of this experience, the end date caging in this year, the decisions that await me when I return to Georgetown as a senior and have to (gross) figure out my life, future, all that fun stuff.
So while yes, I have escaped the fifth-week blues, I’m not quite Ms. Sunshine. I’m very happy but perhaps too aware of that happiness, which is only compounded by the fact that I don’t have enough time left in this term to get everything done. Oh, well. This is like when I tell someone I feel so old and the person laughs because of my youth. I’m complaining about the experience being over when I suppose one could say it has just begun.
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