Oh gosh...

After much procrastination, and hemming and hawing, and flitty web surfing, and a victory in my staring contest with Bleak House, and literally diagramming the assignments for my two classes because they're kind of confusing, I have finally begun this blog.

Hi. I'm Phillip. The one who has only read half of Bleak House, is sarcastic, misses playing his guitar, didn't sleep on the flight, has never been to this side of the Atlantic, and who majestically performed somersaults on the lawn with utmost felicity on his first night here. It all depends on which "meet and greet" you were present at.

Le sigh, now I'm going to begin the arduous task of looking back in time and documenting my first few days here. Ready?

The airport seems like weeks ago already. I was freaking out on the way there because we were caught in traffic, and I was assuredly going to miss my flight to Oxford, and be solemnly escorted back to Arlington, Texas where it was probably 167 degrees today, and there is little to do. But of course I made it, and should've probably been at least 2 hours later because the flight was delayed so long. The journey itself started off well: I was seated next to one of the (13?) Laurens, albeit in an aisle seat (this matters). I read some Bleak House, I met some new people, I generally had a pleasant experience. Nine hours later, I hadn't slept a wink and was growing increasingly agitated. If that seems like a quick transition in my train of thought, it's only because I've decided to spare you (the reader) and I (who must relive such a terrible experience) any attempt on my part to render such extended boredom and sleepiness into words.

I'm sure everybody has or will say this in his/her own blog, but the UK looks like a quilt. Brilliant patches of green, light green, dark green, forest green, green ochre, pale sage, muted turquoise (at this point, I'm typing the names of my Earthy colored pencils for Lisa's class), ginger root, chestnut, and a splash of red.

Orientation was short and sweet, with the added humor of Lisa clarifying what one of our "orienters" meant when she said 'don't move your furniture, or the scouts won't Hoover,' and the entire class echoing with resounding "oooooohs!" when told that to Hoover is to Vacuum. The first evening, I went out with Doug, Jonathan, Laura, Lauren, Lauren, Christine, Adam, Erin, Collin, and Daniel (I think I've got everybody). The first pub we went to was called the City Tavern, where we watched the consolation match between Germany and Portugal. Two of the guys who work at Brasenose were there as well, and they directed us to a heavy metal pub called Gloucester Arms. The heavy metal pub was craziness incarnate. We met a lad named Keith, who told me he'd been there since 9 AM, and wanted me to start a mosh pit in the middle of the room, which was approximately 1x4 feet. Some other British guy debated with Jonathan for a long time about which sport was superior, soccer or football, and included in his reasons for why soccer is better the length of American football games (10 hours) and the fact that football is just a rip-off of rugby anyway, and with all the rules and pads, how can kids play football in the street? They don't; they place soccer. He then compared our ethnicities (Irish, Italian) and cited our diversity as the reason America is great. Then he gave me a hug. Too many beers in that guy! Because seriously, football games are not 10 hours long.
The final stop of the evening was an underground chamberesque bar/club called The Purple Turtle, in which odd versions of American songs were playing, and Brits were gettin' low to Lil' Jon.

This is getting lengthy. Should've spaced this out over a few days.

The next day, we did the Lisa Moore garden tour of Oxford, which included stops at a few of the other colleges that make up Oxford University. One of these was Magdalen College, aka the college OSCAR WILDE attended. Patrick did his Oscar Wilde pose outside the front gate, and his happiness is assuredly guaranteed for at least a few years. Let me apologize in advance if I am incorrect with your name, the spelling of your name, which Lauren you are, or any sweeping generalizations about you. We also spent some time in the Oxford botanic gardens, which you breathtaking, but I was by that time too weary and hungry to fully appreciate it's radiant aura. The group the reconvened and walked too a pub called The King's Head (I think) where I had my first (and last) fish-and-chips-in-England experience. Not that it was bad, but I'm a vegetarian, although apparently one of little willpower. That evening, I returned with Colin and Josh to the City Tavern to watch the World Cup final, after which hundreds of Italians where running, jumping, and chanting "Italia!" in the streets of Oxford for hours.

Today was the first day of classes. Little was done, but we did do a brief free-writing exercise in the Sister Arts class. I wrote about Dylan's performance in "Visions of Johanna," and only with about 8 seconds left did I realize that my short blurb needed more personal reflection. Oh well. We took a journey to Stourhead Home and Gardens, in which some of the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice was filmed. The estate was magnificent, offering breathtaking landscape views and standing as a paragon of architectural poetic gardening. Until we traversed the storyline of the garden; descended the shadowy path in a grotto symbolizing vice; looked across an artificial lake, a visualization of the ideal of Reason as supreme beauty; climbed the steep path to Virtue and the Temple of Apollo, where we were most prone to the falling rain but also privy to the most sublime view; stumbled down the slippery slope from Virtue to the bottom, completing our narrative - I had no concept of how a garden could be poetic.

So far, so amazing. Brasenose college is truly serene. Oxford town is adorned with ancient steeples, theatres, colleges, bridges, streets, castles - the longevity and history of which I find fascinating. All of the people on this trip are intelligent, engaging, thoughtful, and unique.