There's Collegiality, and then there's...

"we must stop spending time together before we all fail out of the program, in the interest of being able to stay on for our PhDs and spend more time together."

Yeah, so Kolya had T. and me over for dinner last night. The plan was Dinner, Duffy, and Latin. It turned into a very, very long dinner, followed by a short period of Latin and a long, long conversation until 2:15 in the morning.

Best moment:
Kolya: "So, this is what I'm currently reading..."
T and Yrs. Truly (simultaniously): "Ooooh, Pelikan!

Images from the Weekend: From Duelling to Dancing

* Tea with T. and Kolya, reading them Dafydd ap Gwilym in Welsh.

* Vigil mass at St. Basil's with a free-association homily, and trying very hard not to make Eye Contact with Emilie.

* Watching "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" with other members of the MA class. Never having seen it before, I spent much of the experience writhing in pain.

* The World's Worst Gin & Tonics, at the pub with the MA class.

* (Yrs. Truly and T. simultaneously rub their tired eyes.)
T.: Jinx... it's okay, I release you... I won't constrain you to silence...
K.: What? Are you constraining the woman I love? I'll fight you in a duel for her love. Pistols or swords?

Yrs. Truly: That's it, I'm out of this conversation.
Resident Brit: What's going on? I'll take your place.
Yrs. T: They're fighting a duel for my love.
R.B: Oh, then, you're on your own.

* Anglo-Catholic Service at Smokey Tom's, and singing "Be thou my Vision"... and being the only Soprano-type in a three-pew radius.

* Brunch & Coffee with T. & Kolya: Yrs. Truly: "I can't get the Huevos Rancheros... I'll want them to be just like the Huevos Rancheros at the Med in Hyde Park, and that can only lead to sorrow and heartbreak."
Kolya: "My dear, it is far too early in the morning for heartbreak, and I haven't had enough coffee for it."(1)

* Buying an Oxford Study Bible for $2 at the Trinity College Booksale. I also bought a book in Welsh, but I'm not yet entirely sure what it's about (I think "Wanderings of Carmarthenshire" is the best translation of the title.)

* Affirming that K. doesn't mind if Celticist Roommate and I refer to him as my "Platonic Boyfriend"-- in turn, however, he has threatened to refer to me as his "Platonic Presbytera" (which has the added benefit of alliterating.)

* Reading with Kolya in the Hart House Quad, removing my Sunday heels to walk in the grass, and taking advantage of the floaty Sunday skirt and Collegiate Gothic background to strike a few ballet poses.

* Watching Platonic Boyfriend read the first few pages of Marilynne Robinson's Gilead (given to him by T.)... only a few weeks after I introduced him to Tom Stoppard's Arcadia. "It's so much fun to watch you begin to read books I love... it's like watching someone discover a good chocolate!"

* Evensong at Smokey T's (I swear I'm not becoming an Anglican, but it was just what I needed.)

* Red Sox, 11-2.

* Remembering that I have some Latin parsing due tomorrow. Cachu.

I shall have to hold on to these memories this week, because with Latin piling up and a paper on Augustine due, it looks like it's going to be hell.

(1) Note that this was said at approximately 1:20 in the afternoon.

Rambling.

I am repeatedly surprised how much colloquial Modern Welsh I pick up by following my friend James on Facebook. E.g.:

"Tudur Hwys Jones, Duw ym mysg ddynion." = "Tudur Hwys Jones, a god among men."

You know you've always wanted to know how to say that.

In other news, Tuesday's (day late) St. Teresa of Avila dessert-having was rather successful, and continued into the next afternoon when I brought leftovers to the CMS lunchroom. I really, really like the CMS-ers... and I really, really miss my Chicago friends. Particularly, having shown the boys Steph's photo album of St. Thomas Aquinas becoming friends with a paper cutout of Nietzsche, the inanimate ones.

And now, a short overview of what I've been doing in class.
Monday's discussion of The Poem of The Cid in my course on Medieval Spain ended with our professor announcing, "you know, those of us with beards *are* the most manly men...".

Latin continues apace as we translate the Vulgate account of David and Bathsheba-- in which, I would have you note, there is no reference to David's "siesta," no matter what the USCCB may think.

(Warning: Girl Talk)

There was one rather embarrassing moment in class when our future Benedictine asked why Bathsheba was "statim sanctificata est", since in the Vulgate it really does appear that purification is effected by the adultery, rather than as a result of biological things going on beforehand. Having already been the one who explained to the class that a whether is a castrated sheep, I didn't want to have to be the one to say, "well, once a month women get a little grumpy..." The instructor merely said, "Well, if you read the book of Leviticus, there are many things after which one is supposed to have a bath."

I am, however, disturbed by this particular student's question, because when I was wondering what was going on with the "sanctificata est" and the Douay-Rheims online provided no help, I went to the RSV (which--get this--*actually looked at the Hebrew*) for help. Is our Benedictine Rad Trad too much of a traditionalist to read a modern translation?

I'm sure Heavens will have something to say about the above two passages. Probably correcting my Latin.

Middle Welsh continues slowly, although we are supposed to start reading Pwyll next week. The professor walked us through the first few lines. "You see that particle? That's marking that the verb is in a weird place in the sentence. Now, that particle? That marks that the verb is in the normal place in the sentence." Yes. At least we're better off than Celticist Roommate's Old Irish class.

Then I went to his office hours to ask him about PhD programs where they would be comfortable letting me be both a Celticist and an Historian, and he kinda sorta maybe offered me a thesis topic. For which I would need to be amazing enough to actually get into the PhD program here. Yeeep.

Today's project: scandalous rhetoric texts describing how to write love letters to Nuns! Hurrah!

I apologize for the rambling... I'd edit, but I wanted to be at PIMS by 10, and I'm running rather late.

The Toronto Chronicles

1. I'm getting the feeling (based on the 3/4ths of a cookie sitting here on my desk, uneaten) that Canadians like things really, really sweet. Too sweet. This should amuse any of you who have ever seen me try to limit the amount of sugar I put in my coffee.

2. My parents agree that the black squirrels are... weird. However, instead of shying away from them as I do, they have been taking pictures of them.

3. This sweetness thing does not, it seems, apply to yogurt. I ordered yogurt at breakfast this morning and was given plain yogurt, with honey. Yummy.

4. I am so incredibly sore from walking around today... it isn't even funny. I was tired even before meeting with the potential future roommate, but then after we hit it off and went to the housing center to look up rooms, and then went to see an apartment and scope out the location of another one. We're seeing two more tomorrow, and we think we want the one whose windows we were peeking through today. Keep your fingers and toes crossed for us! Thank you, Em the Elder, for pointing us in one another's direction...we both hate TV, neither of us wanted to live in a high-rise, and we both believe in keeping housekeeping schedules. And she's a crocheter and started referring to the living room we saw as "the knitting room". Clearly a woman cut of the same cloth (and also Welsh-- that -s ending is a giveaway!). Anyway, yes. Sore. And I get to move tomorrow! Yay!

5. Yup. My parents leave Canada on Friday, but I found temporary housing as a house-and-cat sitter for two PhD candidates. I will be spending two weeks in the company of one lovely Siamese, Bailey, who I shall no doubt refer to as Oliver the entire time because he looks almost exactly like my Grandparents' cat.

6. I have a bank account. I also have a P.O Box, a Student ID, an appointment with the MA program director, a familiarity with the Graduate Program secretary (Grace is my hero!), a stack of old latin exams from which to study, and a working knowledge of the subway system. In a week or so I will have a health card. I'm starting to feel settled... but only a little bit.

7. Obligatory Quotes:
M: "Isn't this a Christian group?"
Em the Younger: "What? No!" (Muttered Conversation) "CREED is a Christian group, not COLDPLAY!"

A: "I'm worried I'm going to be lonely and bored when my parents leave."
D Robes: "Well, you just need to keep yourself busy. Go to museums, go for walks, find a project..."
A: "Well, I do need to study Latin."
D: "Right. You should make it a project to study Latin outside of every building that's ever been Toronto's city hall. That will keep you busy."
(Dan: The program coordinator thought this was hilarious.)

Bank Guy: "Well, let's just take these traveler's checks downstairs and make your money a bit more colorful." (er, colourful)

8. The New Accounts guy at the branch of my bank on Spadina is a big football fan. He wanted travel advice on his fall trip to...South Bend. He's going to see ND against Duke.

9. Moving tomorrow is especially exciting as it means that I get to do laundry. This is fast becoming an extreme necessity.

10. Mass at the Toronto Newman Center (er, Centre) is an experience that requires its own entry.

11. Finally, many public thanks go out to: D Robes, for talking me out of some very dark and unhappy late-night places-- twice; Vanessa, who used experience from her internship to talk me out of a panic over filling prescriptions; former-roommate Kathleen, who agreed to be a reference for lease applications; Larry and John, who promised to treat me to a manicure/pedicure on my arrival in Toronto (Larry dear, in regard to your preference question... my favorite place in Chicago is here... I don't really know what category it fits.); that be-hatted fellow, for making time to listen to me babble despite his busy schedule and keeping in touch himself; EMILY, whose name should be sung with angelic choirs in the background for all the help she's given me in finding housing and getting settled; and, finally, my parents, who despite the fact that we've been sharing a hotel room for a week and a half, have not yet killed and/or disowned me.

We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Sabbatical...

Because once I say "I don't have anything to write about," I start coming up with things to write about.

For example: I was browsing web-logs the other day, and I came across one in which the author recounted, "It is -25 C out today. My tea froze between Sid Smith and Emmanuel College (ten minute walk). In the thermos."

Where is she studying? University of Toronto. Oh, heh. I, um... think I want to go there...wimpy Californian that I am...

I do recommend that journal, by the way, for two reasons. One: It will make you feel really, really guilty about all the writing you should be doing. Two: Spectacular lines such as, "Then I came home and did my writing, which according to Rousseau is not attractive, so I suppose I shall never score with either Kant or Rousseau. I am not crying."

"So, Alice," you may ask, "What did you do with your weekend?"

"Well," I might say, "on Saturday night, Veronica and I stayed in and made posters about the English Monarchs."

"Excuse me?"

Well... perhaps I should show you:



Those three pictures are from Veronica's poster. I really wanted to do one of the Welsh Kings, but 1) it was too complicated for one sheet of posterboard, and 2) The English Monarchy is actually more useful for my BA, because I can see what dynasties were interacting with the Welsh at different times. However, my poster was done in its own...Celtic...idiom.




There is an egregious error in this last picture, and I'll find some sort of a reward for you if you find it. Emily, my dear, you are ineligible for a reward because you do this in grad school. You may still scold me for not paying attention.


Sunday was January 28th, so we had a dinner party for St. Tommy A, just like last year. To refresh your memory:

This year looked pretty similar:

I made Penne with Portobello Mushroom Rago from The Best Recipe, which I highly recommend, and Steph made a (also highly recommended) irish cream chocolate cake. Steph also brought a "special guest" to the dinner, having semi-absconded with Calvert House's statue of St. Thomas. Here's her account.

Oh, and Friday I went to a "Jersey Party" dressed as the token California Hippie, but I went home early because I wanted to finish the book Emily sent me for my birthday more than I wanted to dance. Nota Bene: you know you're a medievalist when you're reading a historical mystery and, coming across the line "it was instant chemistry between them," you think, "well, that's anachronistic!"

Things I Can Do If Grad Schools Don't Want Me:

1) Go to Wales, join a radical political group (trials are expensive and extradition is messy)
2) Join the Poor Claires and/or found an order on the Amalfi Coast
3) Get a crappy job, move to New York, hang out with Anne's friends until I find a nice Catholic Morgan Stanley Corporate Lawyer of my own
4) Move home and work in a plant nursery, taking language classes on the side
5) Take out more loans, go to Culinary School, become a baker

That's it. I want to go THERE.

From the University of Toronto CMS website:

"Summer studies are enhanced by the Centre's intermural softball team, the mighty Papal Bulls, a team whose ranks are always open to new players or fans and whose games are frequently followed by celebratory or consoling pub evenings" (emphasis mine).



First-year memories provided here and (not to toot my own horn) here.

Guess who's taking the GRE today?

Yup.