Oxford, Constantly Causing Me To List

Today marks my fourtieth day in England which means it's time for the much-anticipated "Things I Miss/ Don't Miss/ Am Neutral About" List! Many things are different over here in the UK, especially the people (instead of saying "That blew my mind" when seeing fireworks the other night, a British friend of mine said "That twisted my melon!" Definitely earned the laughs he got for that one), yet I'd like to take a look at the non-human differences over here. May it first be said that I do miss people from home: family, friends from Glen Ellyn and from IWU, yet don't want to attempt a thorough message for all of them - by the time I finished I'd probably be back in town for Christmas break. So, here's what I've recognized thus far:

Things I Miss:
- Free Printing (each page costs 10 pence, about 16 cents, to print here, which severely reduces the opportunity to create a collage of all my favorite footballers', authors', and friends' faces on my dorm room ceiling)
- My Dad's Mini Cooper (the fact that I see, on average, six a day doesn't assuage this pining - it makes me feel more like Tantalus from Greek mythology, forever reaching for that which he can't grasp. I suppose I could steal one...)
- a Real Kitchen with a Real Dishwasher and People Who Regularly Clean Their Dishes (the kitchen in our dorm fits about three people max, and seems perpetually dirty, despite the select few who find some kind of satisfaction in cleaning dishes. I mean, I'm not bitter...
- My Room at Home (in many ways, it's a small sanctuary for me. This deserves a post sometime soon, too)
- Warren (the name of my road bike at home. He's resting in the garage right now.)
- Fall in the Midwest (being my favorite time of year, it pains me slightly to think that I'm missing the turning of the leaves, the Halloween decorations, the brisk breezes, the unique, Ray Bradburyian atmosphere of the Midwest during this time of year. It's wonderful to be alive during the fall.)
- Free-ish Laundry (I include the "ish" because I know it costs my family money when I do laundry at home. I don't see that cost, though...mua ha ha).

Things I Don't Miss
- Traditional Tea Kettles (despite my penchant for the Antique, I've never come across a per-capita electric tea kettle possession like I have here. What an invention! What a reason to wake up in the morning! Westernized efficiency combined with the leisurely delight of a good cup of peppermint tea. Mm-mm)
- The "Non-Guy Fawkes Day Celebrating" Aspect of American Culture (I went to fireworks the other night for this holiday, which were comparable to those we see on the Fourth of July. To end the event, however, they burn a thirty-foot-tall wooden effigy of Guy Fawkes, to celebrate his capture in the midst of the Gunpowder Plot over four hundred years ago. They burn. An effigy. What?!)
- American Roads (there are many cobblestone streets here, another small delight, and one thing I've noticed about them: the lane markers and street signals all seem hand-painted, each a bit wobbly and more detailed than the mechanized stenciling of the streets in the US. The streets feel a bit more personalized here, and sometimes I choose to walk on the sidewalk for that reason)
- American-style Stress (people seem much less hurried and harried over here, they seem to breathe and laugh easier than back home and, surprisingly, I find that students at Oxford, while they take their academics quite seriously, easily turn from their studies to spend time with friends in pubs or wherever else. They are committed, yet not obsessed. I'm sure there are some out there I haven't yet met, though...)
- My Grizzly Man Beard (this month, I planned to do No-Shave November, an endeavor that ended epically last night after a week and a day of growth. It became too itchy and distracting and was hindering my self-esteem. I felt like a caveman, though perhaps someday I'll try to grow a true Mountain-Man patch. The good news, however, is that if my beard were to have grown for a month at the same pace it did this past week, I'd be able to wear it as a coat after a month, thus saving money on winter clothing.)

Things I am Neutral About
- Good Granola Cereal (as described in a recent post, I found some great granola that comes with dried raspberries and pieces of yoghurt. Yum!)
- Literature (though I love my book collection, I'm not sure Oxford can be beat for reading selection and atmosphere...)
- Guitar (though I could use a capo, a benevolent British friend of mine, seeing my in my guitarless agony, offered to lend me his for the term. A Godsend! Now I'm one step further to fulfilling my dream of becoming an Irish street musician.)
- Cool People (though friends aren't interchangeable, and as I mentioned, I do miss those in the States, I've met some truly wonderful, heartening, and fun people here - another reason I'm glad to be here for the year.)

That's it for now, though I'm sure I'll amend this list as the year goes on and I'm continually more aware of differences between here and there.

But Seriously, Let's be Ironic

For a long time, irony was synonymous with sarcasm, in all its cynicism and sometimes-subtle deprecation. It was difficult to reconcile a love for joking and absurdity with my love for others, especially when my dad maintained that "Sarcasm is a sin," quoting Matthew 5.37 (Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one). How, I wondered, could it be sinful not to say what you mean? Don't we do that all the time? Is it ever possible to say what we truly mean?
Contemporary culture has been critiqued as pervasively ironic beyond any semblance of intentional sincerity (think: the hipster ethos, complete with Kanye West sunglasses, mustaches, Nike hi-tops, other tongue-in-cheek accouterments). However, in his editorial for Image magazine, Gregory Wolfe argues that irony is something quite different from that which is often labeled as such in contemporary postmodern culture. Irony, he believes, is something different from the "bad faith" we often see manifested through attitudes of evasiveness and biting insincerity. He writes,

"The simplest definition of irony that I’ve encountered is “the recognition of a reality different from the masking appearance.” The goal of the artist is to enable his or her audience to encounter irony as a moment of recognition, an awareness of the disparity between appearance and reality. Like many of the artist’s devices, irony is something of an interactive game, requiring a discerning mind that is willing to sift through the evidence and draw conclusions. When irony is used by the greatest minds, recognition can become revelation, a way of piercing through the ambiguities of daily life to a fleetingly-glimpsed truth."

Irony is not condescending or embittered. It "reminds us of how difficult it is to achieve the transparency of true sincerity" with our words. There is a playfulness to it, a recognition and acceptance of the limits of language and communication that can be used to great effect (see: "A Modest Proposal," and try to take it seriously). Sincerity is, I believe, one of the most noble aspirations in a relationship. And for a while, I believed that sincerity meant approaching conversation with a somber, no-nonsense attitude. However, after meeting certain people and seeing how they go about play-talking with one another, I saw the joy and imaginative liberation of irony.

Recently I've come across a few thoughts on Jesus' irony and playfulness, which breathe fresh air into the figure who is, more than maybe anyone else in history, painted as dull and vapid. This, from Wolfe's article:

"To my mind, Jesus is the supreme ironist. It is impossible for me to think of his parables, or the many koan-like conundrums he poses to apostles, Pharisees, and gentiles, without sensing his playful use of indirection, that teasing form of testing those who encounter him, that is the essence of irony."

And, from the book A Matrix of Meanings: Finding God in Pop Culture commenting on this passage: "The Bible is a subversive document with a wicked sense of humor that spares no one. Unfortunately, many of its pointed words shoot right over our heads and miss the opportunity to liberate our hearts." I don't think God didn't smile a little bit to himself when identifying himself as "I am that I am" to Moses in Exodus 3.

It seems that we need to recover this playfulness, this teasing indirection that relieves much of the tension of somber dialogue. There is a time for direct addressing of issues, when jocularity ought be put on pause. However, Wolfe's distinction between irony and "bad faith" is especially relevant when trying to figure a way of delightful indirection in a culture of cynicism and condescension. We would do well to learn from Swift, Sedaris, and even the Son of God.