Speaking up

I went on my first ever protest last Thursday. I managed to get through my whole student career without getting involved in any activism (partly because I wasn't being charged fees) but I've fallen now. I've always thought of myself as a bit of an armchair activist. Especially when I was working in London I would see lots of posters for protests for things I believed in but they'd always be in London on a weekend and I just couldn't face catching the coach in *again* on the weekend. So I'd wuss out, feeling slightly guilty but also relieved that I didn't have to push myself. Even protests in Oxford quite often feel like too much effort, or I've already got plans (again, particularly at the weekend). But I noticed posters last week for an anti-war protest on Thursday. I couldn't make the bike rally because of work but just after work there was a gathering in Broad Street and I thought "Right! That's it!". And, almost more surprising to me, I actually managed to hold onto that determination til the day and go for it.

I wasn't really sure what to expect but in the end there were about 500 people there all gathered round the steps to the Sheldonian listening to various councillors/CND types denounce the idea of attacking Iraq and the US government for their hypocritical behaviour. In one sense, I wondered what the point was - the only non converted to be preached to were the policemen hemming us in (for some reason we warranted 8 mounted police and 2 battlewagons worth of foot policemen - perhaps the central oxford branch haven't really got anything better to do). It occurred to me to wonder whether any studies have ever been done on how doing protest duty affects the beliefs held by policemen (if at all). I suppose that in the end they weren't speaking to us, just as we weren't really there to hear. We were there to be seen, to make it clear that we don't support this mad idea of starting a war, hoping that, like letters written to the advertising standards, the presence of one person will be assumed to represent another 10 or so who agree but are not interested enough to actually get out there. Like I normally am.

(no subject)

So, plasticbag is 3 today apparently. And, unable to resist one of those musing "it's been x years now, what's it all for" posts that are practically obligatory for a weblogs birthday, Tom writes

I don't think the future will contain as much about my personal life, because I think after a while the more you write about something, the thinner it gets... It's like you wear it out.

which strikes an anti-chord with me, if you like. One of the things I love about keeping this journal is that I feel that the process of writing down my feelings about things, in forcing me to consider and think through my situations and feelings more closely, has made me a richer person, given me more strength and understanding of what I think, where I am, all that kind of stuff. It reminds me of a time in my second year where several long late night conversations about theology with Alex while wandering round Oxford or lying in one of our rooms gave me huge insights into exactly what it was that I thought and believed, solidifying things previously unrealised in my mind. I've often thought that that's one of the reasons I don't really write about my beliefs here - I've had that discussion, I don't need to work it out any more. Writing about problems, thoughts, here allows me the same kind of analysis, that feeling of understanding of myself. But I've only been writing for just over a year - maybe in 3 I'll feel different. I doubt I'll have explored it all though.

(no subject)

Shaken but not stirred

I haven't had a cup of tea for a few days now (perhaps even about a week) but this morning I got into work and decided that I really fancied a Smokey Russian Caravan (blended Russian Caravan and Lapsang Souchong) to go with my cornflakes. So I made myself a pot. And have spend the whole morning feeling twitchy and hyped with my insides feeling wobbly. So that's what a caffeine high is like!