Oxford.

I have written about five potential blogs over the past few days of my arrival in Oxford. I laughed aloud after I had given them a glance over. Never have I been so exhausted and emotional on electronic paper.. my thoughts were completely obscure while my mechanics suffered more than I'd like to admit. This is to say that though I have only been in Oxford for four days, my time here has revived my emotional capacity to a level that I am not comfortable with. I have been sobbing like a wild baby these past few afternoons, making an awful inky mess of tears and scribble into my journal. My tears however, have not been from homesickness ( though i do love and miss my family)..but from joy. I am not the sort of guy to cry from joy nor from anything actually. And if I did, I would never admit it to a soul. You can imagine what this contradiction might look like..a massive American walking down the streets of Oxford..an eerie, uncontrollable grin playing across his face while tears stream down his cheeks. I've scared more than a handful.

To explain further..it will help to understand that my days have been filled with inspiring adventure/emotional revival. Yesterday after a few pints at the White Horse, I joined in a game of rugy with some freindly 'mates' at Brookes Univeristy. I spent the rest of the day lost in Oxford/Cowley/Blackbird Leys/Headington/ city for three hours, wandering streets and bus jumping. After that thriling trek, it suffices to say that I will not be getting lost again anytime soon. Today I sat on a bench outside of Magdalen University, eating a panini and reading Lewis's 'The Abolition of Man'. I welled up as a fountain does when I stood up, produced my camera, and took a photo of the housing structure where C.S Lewis lived. Things like that are possible in this city. Tomorrow I plan to head to the University where I'll study, rock climb, work out, have a pint on the patio, and trek back to Oxford City to dine and enjoy a few drinks. Not bad for a Tuesday.

I originally planned to fill these blogs with the most intimate details of my trip. Now on second thought, I find that details such as those are better kept in my journal, memory, and heart. The basic outline will do just fine for everyone else. I am interested to see if I'll stop crying however. Right now I am sitting in the pub near my house, all alone in the back room with a pint of Carling. The bar tender is cleaning glasses while a few locals drink, banter, and watch football. I have my book and journal in sight..maybe you can see why I can't stop smiling and crying.