Academic termcard (boring for non-M.Phils)
I just realized that I have another essay due on Tuesday, this one for the core seminar. For my own reference, and that of people in the IR M.Phil, here's the big stuff for this term:
31 January : (Tuesday of 3rd week)The qualitative methods stuff has been verified with Andrew Hurrell.
Core Seminar : Paper 1
9 February : (Thursday of 4th week)
Qualitative Methods : Take Home Exam 1 Distributed
13 February : (Monday of 5th week)
Qualitative Methods : Take Home Exam 1 Due
28 February : (Tuesday of 7th week)
Core Seminar : Paper 2
1 March : (Wednesday of 7th week)
Application deadline for two Canadian scholarships (notify referees by February 1)
9 March : (Thursday of 8th week)
Qualitative Methods : Take Home Exam 2 Distributed
13 March : (Monday of 9th week)
Qualitative Methods : Take Home Exam 2 Due
Last updated: 27 January. (Friday of 2nd week)
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This is worse than a "post of the "here's what I did today" variety," save for members of your program and perhaps keen Oxford watchers.
Just to remind you, and everyone, Philip Pullman will be speaking at 12:15pm tomorrow (Saturday, January 29th) in Room 7 of the Examination Schools. It's part of the alternative career fair and he will be speaking about writing.
At 2:45pm in Room 6, there is also a panel on environmental careers.
At 4:00pm in Room 7, another on NGOs.
A complete timetable
Dover Beach:
Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;--on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
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