the slippery slope

I feel like i've betrayed myself tonight. Everything i've stood for for so long has been flushed down the loo in a single second.

And it's simply because I'm lazy.

It starts pretty simple. You say you'll never do something strictly on principle. "It's just not right," you say when your friends ask you why you don't.

But then you try it.

Sure it's not ideal, but you just don't have the time to do things properly.

And then you reach bottom.

Yes, in a moment of pure slothful disregard for everything i have held to, i used stupid abbreviations in a text message.

"Thx tho."

Was it really worth the extra 30 seconds i saved by not including 7 letters and writing out the words, 'thanks though'? And the 'X'? Seriously. What are the depths to which i have sunk? Is there any hope left for such a man as me?

i think not.

in that case,

c u l8er.

فينجان قحوة كبيرّّ

فينجان قحوة كبيرّّ

More or less, this says, "a large cup of coffee."

Which is basically a necessity for studying arabic.

I haven't figured out how to put the vowel markings in yet, but i'll get those little buggers.

the inner rapper

The more i think about it, the more i want to come up with a rap song called "Callin' all shuga daddiez".

perhaps a stroke of brilliance?

time will tell. look for me in the top 40.

Calling All Sugar Daddies

Listen my children and you will hear
Of the story of st. cross, which might bring a tear.
The story begins in a land far away
A long time ago, old history some say

Old Mother Oxford and father England
Gave birth to their children, like arrows in hand
They had quite a few, 38 in all
Not even a Mormon would say that is small

These children were given a strange nominus
Oxford and England called them colleges
These dear colleges were rather different
In size and stature and the money they spent

From the eldest called baliol to st. catherine’s
And well-endowed Christ church with plenty of friends
Many had gardens and libraries to boot
If robbers had access, they'd steal so much loot

These were all given, a unique coat of arms
Emblazoned on sweaters used to keep warm
Painted on trinkets purchased by the mobs
Descending on Oxford to see all the snobs

But poor college St. Cross was treated quite poorly
And forced by her family to act rather whorely
Given no money and left out of pictures
"I'll fend for myself" she said, with a tincture
of sadness and resolve to make it alone
Wearing the red dress, she headed for town

Selling herself to the highest bidder
She'd willingly trade her name for the giver
Of 28 million, whomever it is
But it might take some more, if named a business

She has a few scruples, but those can be bought
She’ll take the name lardbucket, if you give her a lot
Or maybe Mcdonalds, with a large golden arch
Or someone like La-z-boy, so she can sit on her arse

Calling all sugar daddies, with pockets well-lined
To help out a college, to ease her poor mind
To care for her members, to spend on research
She might even be willing, though you looked like Lurch

an apology

to the whomever that continue searching for "craig hazen," and continually find my blog.

i must hand it to you, you people are persistent. Sadly, this blog has nothing to do with the man.

unfortunately this post only adds more fuel to the fire.

the first one

Well, i'm in the middle of writing my first essay for Oxford on the topic of "Does the phrase 'Late Antiquity' include early Islam?"

yes.


(yet for some reason i think they want more than one word. this might be difficult.)

da new threads

this is what i am required to wear to every exam. i figure if i fail, i can blame it on the clothes. how do they expect you to think well while wearing a bowtie? absurd.

i'll have my wine with a side of education

If Oxford were to have a motto, i believe it would be something along these lines--

"Is there anything else we can do as an excuse for drinks?"

Learning here at Oxford is rigorous, but not without its enjoyment. Every seminar, welcome party, and introduction has been commenced with drinks, punctuated with drinks, and finally, concluded with drinks.

I firmly believe that people who do not leave oxford with two degrees are bound to end up failures in life. The first degree being the one which you sought by initially coming to oxford, in my case the M. Phil. The second degree, brought on by the state of drinking affairs here at oxford must necessarily be a certificate of completion of AA. I don't mean associate of arts, but something far more practical, alcoholics anonymous. While it is possible to graduate with only the first degree, it won't do much good if you are unable to walk a straight line or successfully speak english without slurring it.

in this week alone, there have been 3 scheduled opportunities to consume alcohol, and that's not including the fact that every food establishment in oxford is firstly a place to buy alcohol. Oh yeah, it's tuesday.

all this alcohol in such a fine academic establishment troubles me to the point of sorrow.

i'll have a pint to drown my troubles, please.

Flatmate Ed. Part I- Ed

The first in a four part series. I declare it to be a rather an ingenious title, if i may so myself. Why, you might ask? After reading it you were probably wondering, "Is this about a flatmate of Ryan's named Ed?" Or, perhaps you were thinking, "Sweet, Ryan is going to 'ed (as in educate)' us about his flatmates.

the answer is yes. Convenient that i have a flatmate named Ed. It would have been a bit less clever if i started with Hayley, Jake, or new girl from boston. But i'm a thinker.

Flatmate Ed-

Perhaps the only Brit i've met who doesn't think a blood alcohol level is something to be maintained. He's an american history student and has an awesome southern accent he uses frequently. We get along quite well and we're each other's 'cultural advisors.' Basically, he lets me know that if i tell anyone else i think phil collins is 'pretty keen' they'll think i'm a bit daft. For my part, i teach him all about the gun totin' west and how i once kicked a rattlesnake in the air with my cowboy boots and shot him between the eyes.

he thinks americans are liars. brits don't trust anybody.

He really is quite a nice guy and having met some of the other people from my college, i'm quite glad he lives in the flat.

Well, this has been flatmate Ed. More Ed to come soon. Ed, as is in education, not Ed as in Edward. Don't worry, you'll figure it out.

el churcharino

One of the bigger worries i had about coming over to merry old england was the fact that i would have to find a new church to be a part of. I had coldsweats and nightmares of being surrounded by sullen, stodgy, liberal brits speaking in the thickest cockney accent who won't give us damn furriners the time of day. and they'd have bad teeth just to make things worse.

But, call it beginners luck, i think i've found a church i'll stay at on the first try.

It's called St. Ebbe's and i think it is technically an Anglican Church, but i'll forgive them that point.

to make things simpler, i'll make two categories. The first being "why this church kicks bootay!", and the second being "why this church doesn't kick bootay!".

1. Why This Church Kicks Bootay!

The people are friendly.
I didn't notice bad teeth.
The building itself is much prettier than the churches in the states.
The first song was "Immortal, Invisible," and, pardon my french, but that donne un coup de pied l'âne principal. (i'm pretty sure a literal translation of that is, gives a blow of the foot to the major ass, which is close enough.)
The bookstore has an entire shelf devoted to the works of John Piper.
It wasn't full of old people.
There were old people.
I could understand the pastor's accent.
They were theologically conservative.
two words- wine tasting. And i'm not talking communion people. i'm talking bottles of the finest wines selected by "Monsieur Thierry Berson (formerly head sommelier for Gordon Ramsay and erstwhile Best Young Sommelier of the Loire Valley.)"*

2. Why this church doesn't kick bootay!

I forgot an umbrealla and it rained the hardest it has yet on my way home.


I'm sure there will be things i don't prefer/disagree with on some level, but as of yet i'm looking forward to attending during my time here.



*Sommelier is French for "A specialized waiter responsible for serving wine, as well as offering advice on specific wines and food and wine combinations."