Decision in narrative form...
...seeing as I'm incapable of writing any other way.
Last Saturday I went on a "Parish Retreat/Away Day" with some people from my church to a lovely little retreat centre in Woking, which is a terribly civilised, suburban small town in Surrey. It was a lovely day altogether, actually. We chatted about community and how to make St James into a better one given that it's in central London and almost everyone who comes is from somewhere far-flung and not actually near to Piccadilly at all. It was interesting and fun and involved construction paper and pens and brainstorming and of course prayers to begin and a eucharist to end. And a lovely lunch. Very important.
I got chatting with a couple who have both at some point in their careers been at Oxford -- Emma did her undergrad there (biology) and Mikaela, who is Italian, her DPhil (in chemistry). I told them about my law/Oxford dilemma and Emma said, "What course would you do at Oxford?" I said "Modern Middle Eastern Studies" and without missing a beat she said, "Do that." Later she said that studying at Oxford is such a unique experience I shouldn't pass it up. She's now completing her own PhD at a London uni and said that being at Oxford is completely different. Her advice was unequivocal and I felt myself wavering on the edge of a decision. Yet somehow, not quite there.
Still, that night I couldn't help plotting it all out in my mind.
Two months here in the UK to arrange things. Get all those letters I need to send to the fees office in Oxford, send a bunch of my belongings on ahead of me, arrange my working visa. Then off to Istanbul in September. Ten glorious months. £500 savings and £600 spending each month and free accommodation and bills... lots of lovely clothes, lots of lovely food, a Turkish language course or several, lots of travel. Bliss and luxury and leisure. Next summer, split between making footfall in the UK for appearance's sake, a couple of weeks back in Vancouver for Jessica's wedding, and more Turkish travel and study... then, early October, back to England and up to Oxford with enough money saved to cover my tuition for both years (£6,000). Two years at Oxford for the MPhil, and from there I could upgrade to a DPhil in one more or take a longer route by applying to a North American uni for a PhD. Or jump out altogether and go into research or something. World oyster my the be would.
Then I began my job-shadowing this week with Powell Spencer and Partners, a solicitors firm which was part-founded by a friend of Tom's, does around 65% crime work and the rest split between family, employment and PI -- and all of it legal aid.
It's been so fascinating I will have to devote another entry to it, but basically, back to sitting in courts, observing, getting caught up in the excitement and the pantomime of it all. I admit, I do have a weakness for the wigs and robes. But more than that -- actually being interested in the details of the cases, in the legal arguments, being caught up in procedural issues and how best to work with them.
I began, of course, to waver.
But surely I could return to law afterwards? Why, after two years doing an MPhil at Oxford I could, as I say, put in another year's work and upgrade to a DPhil. I could then return victorious to the law path and surely it would open however many more doors for me in international law, to have this solid Middle Eastern Studies background? Maybe the long route wasn't so bad after all. Maybe I should stop worrying about how long everything will take and just do everything I want to do?
It was tempting. But somehow something still wasn't sitting right in my tummy. The idea of getting myself organised and out to Istanbul was suddenly, mysteriously, seeming to be a bit bothersome. And was Oxford enough to tempt me without the year in Istanbul? Hm. Not sure. Was Istanbul enough to tempt me on its own? Hm. Not sure. It was really the watertight perfection of the Istanbul to Oxford plan that held a lot of the appeal. I've always been a fan of complicated but watertight plans.
But how watertight is it really? I still have no guarantees that I'll be classified as a home student. I have furthermore not heard back from the school that Alex will be teaching at, and to which I sent my CV on Monday. Finally, I have emailed both Natalie and Forough, my referees, and not heard a peep from either of them. What if they won't write any more letters for me -- what if Forough, especially, from whom I have not received an email since before she went on sabbatical, simply never replies to me again? Even if they would (which I assume, really, they would) perhaps it is time to stop bothering them with applications after applications, year after year, and just do something I've applied for?
Or was this just cowardice and problem-seeking?
Once again I was really split and unsure.
So last night I was as usual whining about it to all and sundry.
And Night repeated to me her advice, given to me earlier, that if I can't decide between two things perhaps neither is the correct decision. Her friend Roderick echoed this opinion (independently!). This sat badly with me, annoyed me in fact, and I finally put my finger on the reason.
"No," I said, "the reason I can't choose between them is that I don't want to give either of them up. If I give both up, that makes no sense at all!" And that's still how I feel -- I can't squander both choices just because it's impossible to be 100% sure which of two very good options is the best.
"Well then," said our wise Nightingale, "you could always set up a career in law and go back to academia later if you chose."
"Yes, but I could do it the other way, too," I said, thinking of my long-winded Istanbul-Oxford-MPhil-DPhil-law plot.
"Well, maybe," she said, "but if you want to set up a career as a barrister and actually practice for a while..."
It was like a hammer to the head. "Now, that's sense!" I cried as the lights went up for the show to begin.
Of course! Here I am thinking of a nice long circuitous way to do some more academia before doing law and not for a minute thinking that I could do it the other way! If I practice for several years and manage to pay off my debt and perhaps even save some money, what is to prevent me from changing career again, if I so choose, off my own back and my own steam, ten, twenty, thirty years down the road? Or even not changing careers but doing an advanced law degree at Oxford (which I have considered in the past)? Or an MA in Islamic Law at SOAS -- for instance? Or an LLM in Law with collaborative programme in Bioethics at McGill? Or a joint LLM/PhD Islamic Studies at McGill?
This is the day when people do these things. I'll have the same brains in the future as I have now, barring horrendous disease or accident. If I have the same interests and the same drive -- well, more drive, really -- then I'll do it. If I don't, then presumably I'll be happily engrossed in a career at the bar.
Ultimately, with the GDL I have a bird in hand. I have some very set, defined things to do: join an Inn, finalise my application for a certificate of academic standing, apply for a bank loan and send off a begging letter to my father that I've already written -- and then, there I am.
The Oxford route is much more uncertain. Chase the job, and if I don't get it, find another. Chase and chase and chase confirmation that I will be classified as a home student. Move countries yet again. Chase my poor long-suffering referees for more letters and submit yet another round of applications. There are quite a lot of weak steps in that particular suspension bridge. If I decided tomorrow to withdraw from the GDL and something fell through -- if my plan collapsed, what would I have given up?
No, not sensible, apart from anything else. All things being equal in my heart, which they honestly seem to be, the only way to choose is to be practical. And the practical answer is to stick to the course I'm already on.
Besides, all things don't seem to be completely equal in my heart. Night also mentioned flipping a coin and seeing how I felt about the result. I said I'd already pictured doing that, and I had imagined the coin in mid-air and a sinking worry in my head, "Oh NO! What if it comes down Oxford? Then what will I do?! Do I have to do it?"
Which perhaps is answer enough.
Last Saturday I went on a "Parish Retreat/Away Day" with some people from my church to a lovely little retreat centre in Woking, which is a terribly civilised, suburban small town in Surrey. It was a lovely day altogether, actually. We chatted about community and how to make St James into a better one given that it's in central London and almost everyone who comes is from somewhere far-flung and not actually near to Piccadilly at all. It was interesting and fun and involved construction paper and pens and brainstorming and of course prayers to begin and a eucharist to end. And a lovely lunch. Very important.
I got chatting with a couple who have both at some point in their careers been at Oxford -- Emma did her undergrad there (biology) and Mikaela, who is Italian, her DPhil (in chemistry). I told them about my law/Oxford dilemma and Emma said, "What course would you do at Oxford?" I said "Modern Middle Eastern Studies" and without missing a beat she said, "Do that." Later she said that studying at Oxford is such a unique experience I shouldn't pass it up. She's now completing her own PhD at a London uni and said that being at Oxford is completely different. Her advice was unequivocal and I felt myself wavering on the edge of a decision. Yet somehow, not quite there.
Still, that night I couldn't help plotting it all out in my mind.
Two months here in the UK to arrange things. Get all those letters I need to send to the fees office in Oxford, send a bunch of my belongings on ahead of me, arrange my working visa. Then off to Istanbul in September. Ten glorious months. £500 savings and £600 spending each month and free accommodation and bills... lots of lovely clothes, lots of lovely food, a Turkish language course or several, lots of travel. Bliss and luxury and leisure. Next summer, split between making footfall in the UK for appearance's sake, a couple of weeks back in Vancouver for Jessica's wedding, and more Turkish travel and study... then, early October, back to England and up to Oxford with enough money saved to cover my tuition for both years (£6,000). Two years at Oxford for the MPhil, and from there I could upgrade to a DPhil in one more or take a longer route by applying to a North American uni for a PhD. Or jump out altogether and go into research or something. World oyster my the be would.
Then I began my job-shadowing this week with Powell Spencer and Partners, a solicitors firm which was part-founded by a friend of Tom's, does around 65% crime work and the rest split between family, employment and PI -- and all of it legal aid.
It's been so fascinating I will have to devote another entry to it, but basically, back to sitting in courts, observing, getting caught up in the excitement and the pantomime of it all. I admit, I do have a weakness for the wigs and robes. But more than that -- actually being interested in the details of the cases, in the legal arguments, being caught up in procedural issues and how best to work with them.
I began, of course, to waver.
But surely I could return to law afterwards? Why, after two years doing an MPhil at Oxford I could, as I say, put in another year's work and upgrade to a DPhil. I could then return victorious to the law path and surely it would open however many more doors for me in international law, to have this solid Middle Eastern Studies background? Maybe the long route wasn't so bad after all. Maybe I should stop worrying about how long everything will take and just do everything I want to do?
It was tempting. But somehow something still wasn't sitting right in my tummy. The idea of getting myself organised and out to Istanbul was suddenly, mysteriously, seeming to be a bit bothersome. And was Oxford enough to tempt me without the year in Istanbul? Hm. Not sure. Was Istanbul enough to tempt me on its own? Hm. Not sure. It was really the watertight perfection of the Istanbul to Oxford plan that held a lot of the appeal. I've always been a fan of complicated but watertight plans.
But how watertight is it really? I still have no guarantees that I'll be classified as a home student. I have furthermore not heard back from the school that Alex will be teaching at, and to which I sent my CV on Monday. Finally, I have emailed both Natalie and Forough, my referees, and not heard a peep from either of them. What if they won't write any more letters for me -- what if Forough, especially, from whom I have not received an email since before she went on sabbatical, simply never replies to me again? Even if they would (which I assume, really, they would) perhaps it is time to stop bothering them with applications after applications, year after year, and just do something I've applied for?
Or was this just cowardice and problem-seeking?
Once again I was really split and unsure.
So last night I was as usual whining about it to all and sundry.
And Night repeated to me her advice, given to me earlier, that if I can't decide between two things perhaps neither is the correct decision. Her friend Roderick echoed this opinion (independently!). This sat badly with me, annoyed me in fact, and I finally put my finger on the reason.
"No," I said, "the reason I can't choose between them is that I don't want to give either of them up. If I give both up, that makes no sense at all!" And that's still how I feel -- I can't squander both choices just because it's impossible to be 100% sure which of two very good options is the best.
"Well then," said our wise Nightingale, "you could always set up a career in law and go back to academia later if you chose."
"Yes, but I could do it the other way, too," I said, thinking of my long-winded Istanbul-Oxford-MPhil-DPhil-law plot.
"Well, maybe," she said, "but if you want to set up a career as a barrister and actually practice for a while..."
It was like a hammer to the head. "Now, that's sense!" I cried as the lights went up for the show to begin.
Of course! Here I am thinking of a nice long circuitous way to do some more academia before doing law and not for a minute thinking that I could do it the other way! If I practice for several years and manage to pay off my debt and perhaps even save some money, what is to prevent me from changing career again, if I so choose, off my own back and my own steam, ten, twenty, thirty years down the road? Or even not changing careers but doing an advanced law degree at Oxford (which I have considered in the past)? Or an MA in Islamic Law at SOAS -- for instance? Or an LLM in Law with collaborative programme in Bioethics at McGill? Or a joint LLM/PhD Islamic Studies at McGill?
This is the day when people do these things. I'll have the same brains in the future as I have now, barring horrendous disease or accident. If I have the same interests and the same drive -- well, more drive, really -- then I'll do it. If I don't, then presumably I'll be happily engrossed in a career at the bar.
Ultimately, with the GDL I have a bird in hand. I have some very set, defined things to do: join an Inn, finalise my application for a certificate of academic standing, apply for a bank loan and send off a begging letter to my father that I've already written -- and then, there I am.
The Oxford route is much more uncertain. Chase the job, and if I don't get it, find another. Chase and chase and chase confirmation that I will be classified as a home student. Move countries yet again. Chase my poor long-suffering referees for more letters and submit yet another round of applications. There are quite a lot of weak steps in that particular suspension bridge. If I decided tomorrow to withdraw from the GDL and something fell through -- if my plan collapsed, what would I have given up?
No, not sensible, apart from anything else. All things being equal in my heart, which they honestly seem to be, the only way to choose is to be practical. And the practical answer is to stick to the course I'm already on.
Besides, all things don't seem to be completely equal in my heart. Night also mentioned flipping a coin and seeing how I felt about the result. I said I'd already pictured doing that, and I had imagined the coin in mid-air and a sinking worry in my head, "Oh NO! What if it comes down Oxford? Then what will I do?! Do I have to do it?"
Which perhaps is answer enough.