5.20.17

Not every day ends with a pee-inducing laughing fit in the parking lot of the post office but yesterday did -- so I have to share it. 

About two days ago, I was browsing Facebook and found one of those very cute stores. You know the kind -- all of the cute photos of repurposed furniture and antique mirrors with the original glass? That stuff gets me excited -- in this way, I take very much after my mother and grandmother. So I showed it to my mother, and we decided to head out there this Saturday morning. The rain didn't even deter us. We were out of the house by ten, headed 40 minutes away to find this cute little shop. 

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and if I could pick some words for the pictures I saw of this store, they would be: false advertising. There was one cute corner where they'd taken the pictures, and the rest was made up of tiny tables with beer bottle lamps for sale. It was not what we had expected. We left laughing because there was still hope! We had seen a Dirt Cheap further down the road. First, though, we needed a small snack. 

We pulled off at a Dollar General, as you do, and went in for some cokes. Now, I'm not known for my bright ideas -- mainly, because sometimes I lack common sense and really want things to be cute when I should just be quiet. So, I suggested we get some coke in a glass bottle and some peanuts and have a good ole time. My mother is practical. "How are we going to get these bottles open? We don't have a bottle opener," she said. I reassured her that I had seen a ton of boys open these bottles with their bare hands when I worked at the Piggly Wiggly. "I can do it." (These will be my last words, I'm sure.)

Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to open a glass coke without a bottle opener. It's hard. And after I cut my hand and googled ways to open it and cut my hand again, we pulled over for a 50 cent

Pepsi (the lesser soda) at Wal-Mart. Then off to Dirt Cheap, we went. This Dirt Cheap was huge with tons of rows of clothes, bedding, and appliances -- and it was busy, as all of them are. First, a hurricane-rivaling storm was blowing outside with icy rain but the AC was on high -- because obviously. Then things were on the floor, stuff was obviously broken, a whole team of Little League was wrestling in the toys. We were there for an hour and left with nothing.

However, as we were leaving, my mother made a grave discovery. Her new sandals had bruised her feet. We got in the car and she took off her sandals to show me these giant bruises. Now, you may be saying: "There's no way that she bruised that fast." And you would be right in that thought. However, my mother does bruise a little easily. So we accepted this fate, but she was still horrified. She even looked up what could make her bruise this easily. (Please don't do this. WebMD is a website created by Satan himself.)  As we drove to Backyard Burger, which was an hour away and absolutely necessary after this day, she was silent, contemplating these bruises and what this meant about her body. I sang along to Patsy Cline, oblivious to her worry. 

We got to Backyard Burger and sat down to eat. We discussed her feet, my hands (hyperpigmentation from a rash after angrily cutting into some azalia bushes -- a fun time.), the babies she keeps, and anything else. As we finished and left, we visited two stores with little incident -- which was welcome. My mother remained worried about her feet and we tried on clothes. There's something about summer that's great and horrible at the same time. The weather, the food -- all great. The swimsuits -- all bad. So we left annoyed with our eating habits (especially after those cheeseburgers). However, as we were driving home, we thought about some frozen strawberries and how good they would be in a strawberry shortcake... 

Self-control really is not our best quality, as you can tell. We stopped again at a Wal-Mart and gathered a few more groceries than we actually needed, again, as you do, and then headed home. Oh, of course, we forgot to stick the Netflix DVD back in the mail. So, we thought we'd swing by the post office on the way home. Now, as we were singing along to R. Kelly's iconic "I Believe I Can Fly," neither of us noticed as my mother drove into the exit of the bank instead of the entrance to the post office! Thank the Lord it was Saturday; otherwise, we might have been in a little trouble. As we turned around to get back in the right lane, we pulled into the post office, only for her to drop the DVD on the ground and have to get out of the car to get it and put it in the mailbox. Listen, by this point, we were completely gone. We were crying, ready to pee our pants, and R. Kelly was still belting it out in the background. And when we got home, she discovered that her shoes had left dye on her feet and they were not actually bruised. 

I'm proud to say we made it home safe and with a few more laugh lines than we left with. Mother's Day may have been a week ago, but this just shows that the holiday continues -- especially when we keep building fun memories like the ones from today. 

July 30, 2016

It's about two months from the time when the fact that I was going to study abroad was sinking in. It's hard to believe that I've been back in America for a few weeks now; adjusting to life in Mississippi

was easy but I am still missing Oxford so much. In my last few days in England, I stayed in London where I visited Hampton Court, the home of Henry VIII and William III (obviously at different times), I shopped on Oxford Street and I saw Les Miserables at the Queen's Theatre.

Hampton Court is a beautiful place, a few train stops outside of London, and it was home to Henry VIII. Inside, Anne Boleyn helped Henry decorate his halls and you can also take a tour of the kitchens to see how they prepared his food and how much wine they drank -- hey, it was a freaking ton. I loved Hampton Court. It was my first day in London alone, and I really just got to wander and enjoy the grounds and rooms alone. I love doing things like that alone or with people but at different paces -- it's much more fun most times to just take these things in by yourself. And Hampton Court was just gorgeous; the grounds were lovely and the decorations of the rooms were breathtaking. In this picture to the right, this a ceiling which follows up the stairs, across the ceiling and onto the other side of the wall. And I'm not joking when I say it honestly took my breath away.

The next day I shopped in a few stores on Oxford Street but the most exciting part was seeing Les Miserables. A few girls in my house decided to go a couple of weeks before but didn't really extend an invite to the rest of us, so after hearing about it, I booked my own ticket. Cause, come heck or high water, I was gonna see my favorite musical. And oh it was worth it. I was terrified to ride the subway by myself at night but I was on a high. The man who played Jean Valjean was phenomenal and had me in tears within the first ten minutes of the show. It was ridiculous. That show was life changing. I was so in love with everything about it.

My flight back to America was easy enough, though it felt like it was years long. And now I've been back here for a good few weeks and I... I don't even know that I've processed going. I know that I feel different, that I've read more Hemingway than I ever thought I would, I know that I could get you around Oxford easily, and I know that I definitely felt like I belonged there throughout my time in Oxford. While there, I bought this vintage camera -- which is kinda my thing. I like to take pictures and I like to look at cameras. Aesthetically, they add something in my opinion. I've added it to my shelf and every now and then, I just stop and think about the things I've done.

Oxford was such a positive experience. I still cannot believe that I've lived there and understood how the people worked, how the traffic moved, how to become part of the society. I've been a bit depressed since coming home just because I had to leave such a marvelous setting for one that I'm so used to. My time in Oxford is something that I couldn't trade for anything else. I wouldn't have chosen to go anywhere else for any other set of time -- unless I could have stayed longer, because I definitely would have done that. It was unlike anything I could have imagined and I thank God every day that I got to live out something that I've wanted to do since I was probably nine years old. I'd go back right now if I could.

catch you later,
Karleigh

July 1, 2016

The Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, tacked onto the back of the National History Museum, houses an odd collection of objects from surgical equipment to toys. The setup of the Pitt Rivers blatantly seems to reject the ‘traditional’ way to set up a museum – that is following a setup that travels through time periods or that follows the narrative decided upon by the museum. Instead, the Pitt Rivers has chosen to keep like-objects together, combining objects from all over the world based on their similarities. Most times, museums group objects and works of art together by their region and the regions are grouped together based on the time in which they were around. For example, you are likely to find Ancient Rome, Greece, and Egypt in the same area of the museum. These places are using similar types of tools but they are grouped by region to keep the objects organized and make touring the museum more streamlined.

However, the Pitt Rivers has rejected this idea of organization and instead groups the objects by use and not on region or time period. Weaponry, like swords and shields, are grouped together from all over instead of with their region or time period for example. When you first walk down into the Pitt Rivers, it already gives of an eerie vibe as the lights are dimmed and the cases are all very close together. Already, the atmosphere of this portion of the museum gives the visitors the feeling of uneasiness. Straight off the stairs and you’re in front of a case full of dolls modeled to look exactly like humans – here is a hint as I don’t have a picture, they look like creepier versions of people. From the creation of man, the human form has been the subject of many types of art. People have always tried to capture the exact proportion to explicitly show the human form; however, it never really works out. We aren’t as ugly as some of these artistic versions and we are not all as beautiful as Michelangelo’s David. However, these figures do set the tone for the rest of the museum.

The Pitt Rivers’ organization leads you in circles around the room to observe the clothes of different areas, which are separated by their area on the ground floor, but still follow the theme of attire. Upstairs, the floor covers objects from tools for surgery from all over the world. The ones I noticed immediately are from Mukden, Manchuria; with these tools, it must have hurt terribly to have surgery. And in the same breath, you can turn from these tools to see toys found in areas in America. One of the most notable ones to me was the puppet of the cow, which was used to teach children moral lessons. I believe the cow was from the Midwest and it’s noticeably older, as you can see somewhat in the picture I took.

It’s interesting to look in the Pitt Rivers Museum; I wish I could have devoted more time than I had at the time I visited, which was twice, to really explore all of the floors and to read more about the objects. The organization of the museum leaves you in awe of the adaptations of people around the world, just in a different manner than you would normally find in a more traditionally set up museum. 

catch you later,

Karleigh

On June 28, we visited Blenheim Palace, which is in Woodstock. You might not know the name right off the top of your head, which is fine. I didn’t either. Here are some facts, which I googled/learned during my tour for you: it’s where Winston Churchill was born, it was used as a temporary hospital for wounded soldiers during WWI, and it holds a 134 ft. tall column, known as the Column of Victory. “Cool, Karleigh” you say but let’s get to the good stuff. What did it look like? How did it make you feel? Where are your pictures? Calm down, guys. I got the goods you’re looking for. The best way to describe Blenheim Palace is like going back in time. It has a huge amount of grounds and smackdab in the middle is this beautiful palace, built in an 18^th century Baroque architecture style. It’s breathtaking; the walk up to the palace is crazy long and the whole time you struggle to breathe because it’s so beautiful. Suddenly I wasn’t wearing Nike tennis shoes and yoga pants but a huge gown and probably a wig… I’m a little iffy about their style back in the day.

Blenheim Palace is a huge amount of grounds with this tiny – ahem, not so tiny – palace siting in it and, because this is England, we explore the grounds first because rain was in the forecast and you just don’t want to be caught in that mess. So the walk around the grounds starts with crossing this huge bridge to get to the Column of Victory. It’s this huge statue with a guy standing on the top but the cutest part is the sheep – who absolutely do not want you to touch them, thank you very much. The grounds, even as we took many pictures out there and ate lunch outside, are not what take you back to another time and place. They’re breathtaking, no doubt; however, it is the magnitude and gorgeous beauty of Blenheim itself that sends you back.

When you walk out to the gardens, the statues are of ancient figures preparing for battle or tiny cherubic statues beside the fountain. Those made me think of my mom and her own tiny cherub statue in our garden. Yes, I know it’s weird. The gardens are gorgeous, so striking and so so green. Growing up around so much lush grass, I didn’t know I could be in awe at shrubbery. And yet, there I was. However, the Pleasure Gardens, which do give a ton of visual pleasure – are again, not what send you back in time. In fact, it is when you go in and have to wait to climb the stairs. Why, you ask? Because if there are more than 15 people on the staircase at the time, then it will collapse. Yes, collapse.

We did the historic tour first, which consisted of traveling from room to room as the story of the palace is told by a servant of the first mistress as she travels through time to the modern version of the palace – that is the palace during WWII. Not so modern, but you get the picture. As she carries the visitors throughout the history of the museum, it’s as if we – the visitors – become an accessory to her. We travel with her as she explores the building of the palace, the installation of electricity, and the death and rebirth of the last name, Churchill. We become the handmaiden’s object as she travels and, along with her, we experience the glories of Blenheim as they have unfolded over time. It makes the second part of the tour, the self-guided bit, a little staggering. We walked through the palace, through the room in which Winston Churchill was born, and yet it did not affect me as the automated tour did. I was part of the history, an active member but on the self-guided tour, I was just a passerby. 

catch you later,

Karleigh

June 26, 2016

Cambridge

Gone are the days of play-by-plays. To be honest, my last few days have been full of finishing up my tutorials, getting my hotel in London all settled for the coming weekend, and building up the homesickness which I've not really felt this whole time. The homesickness isn't really a homesick feeling... more of an I-absolutely-hate-to-leave-Oxford-but-good-God-I-miss-my-mother feeling. I think I only miss her so much now because I missed her birthday. On the 21st of June, she had her birthday and I didn't get to call her but I did get to do one better, I think. I contacted a lady that leaves her son with Mother and she helped me organize a surprise. My mother received some of the most beautiful flowers for her birthday and I'm so thrilled that I could surprise her with such a sweet happy. She told me she loved them and we exchanged many excited texts. I really wish I could show her around Oxford.

The rest of the week was really full of me finishing up my final essay for my tutorial. My third essay, according to my tutor, was my best work. He was super generous with that grade and then on the final essay, we discussed Hemingway's fragile masculinity. It was a great topic to write on but not the most organized. I received As on both of these essays. Overall, I think the tutor experience at Oxford is unlike any other. I crave the one-on-one relationship with a member of faculty, with whom I can discuss all educational topics. I don't think there are really any downfalls to the program; I feel like I've been truly educated and I cannot complain about my tutor as he was amazing.

 

On Thursday night, we attended Pub Quiz Night at the Old Black Horse, which is a pub in Cowley. It's a tiny place, built in the 17th century. I met a local builder, that is a construction man, who called me gorgeous, kissed my hand and was already three sheets to the wind at 8pm. My local friend had to ward him off but overall, I cannot tell you a bad thing about the place. Pubs generally serve food, but this place is majority drinks. My friend works there and he made a really great iced coffee. The girls were pretty good at trivia -- with the group name, Little Women. Quiz night wasn't exactly what we expected but it was laugh all around. We were gifted with a potato peeler and a mixed CD of love songs -- that's cause we had the lowest scores. Quite hilarious. 

On Saturday, we took a group trip to Cambridge, or as Oxford students call it: "The Other Place." Reminds me of another place I know... Oh yeah, TSUN. I've never really understood school rivalries, but there's is just as strong as the one I'm used to. Cambridge is quaint; very relaxed and had the cutest place called Henrietta's Tea Rooms where I had my first English Afternoon Tea. It was so good. Oh my gosh, I could drink tea and eat cucumber sandwiches and scones for the next sixty years and never be tired of it. The scones had sultanas baked in and they're like... heavier and sweeter biscuits -- definitely not the flaky homemade ones I'm used to. And they put clotted cream on it, which is like super super whipped cream, like almost butter but still not. And then a jelly, usually like strawberry. They were so good. I smothered them in the cream and jelly because that's the only way this girl knows how to eat a biscuit. And there were little sandwiches, one was cheese and red onion. Yep, apparently that's a popular combo and then cucumber and maybe cream cheese. That was the best one. I could have had at least seventeen more, let's be honest. And then on top of the three tiered display was a tiny key lime pie. It was good as well. Overall, it was amazing. Definitely something everyone should get to do. 

The school of Cambridge itself is where Isaac Newton studied and apparently where he first began studying the speed of sound. Does that mean anything to you? Me neither -- he totally should have done this at Oxford. Then his research would have really mattered. Just kidding, obviously Newton did cool stuff or something. Anyway, all in all, Cambridge is gorgeous. It's smaller feeling than Oxford, very sweet. I think Oxford still has my heart though.

I think Oxford will probably have my heart forever.
catch you later,

Karleigh

June 20, 2016

Oh my goodness, I cannot believe it's already been five days since I last chatted with you all. Why is my time here at Oxford passing so quickly? I'm so in love with this city. I never want to leave. I know normally I would tell you guys a play by play of all that has happened, but this time I'm going to do a mid-point reflection. As we come to a close, some parents have come to visit a few girls and so only four of us were in the house this weekend. I visited London and shopped around Oxford Circus. I've gone out with a friend that I've made here in Oxford, and it's all been nice. We all had a really lovely weekend, whether we were here or if we were with our families.

We've all grown so much here in Oxford. I never realized how connected I was to my family and my home until I left it behind. I feel so much more independent now; it's like I can do anything. And of course, I could do anything before as well but now I know. I know now that I can honestly move to another country and make it. I can, not only survive, but live in a foreign place. I can call somewhere new home even when I know almost no one. It's a completely new kind of independence. I'm in love with it. I'm so in love with Oxford and, today, I'm so very in love with life. 

catch you later,

Karleigh

June 15, 2016

Recently, I visited the Museum of the History of Science as a part of my class experience in Oxford. While I did go in with the intention of looking through the entire museum with no distractions, I got caught up in the lowest floor checking out the older cameras. I've had my own collection of older cameras for a few years now; I always find the structure of old cameras so aesthetically pleasing. There is more to a camera though, than its exterior. The camera was officially invented in 1839 in France and in England, according to the marker on the display. People have always loved cameras; we've always wanted to document our lives, the lives of those around us. Photography allows us to remember moments that otherwise might be lost. These cameras have all seen birthday parties, family portraits, Christmas mornings. They've visited all over the world, taken pictures of the Grand Canyon, the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben. Cameras are portals to the past in their own way and they help us create collections of memories, physical representations that serve as a way to prompt an "oh yeah, I remember the second this was taken."

I've always been obsessed with old photographs and history. I think it's fascinating. I love everything that comes from the past, even the bad parts. A few weeks ago I found these photographs in an antique shop in the Covered Market in Oxford. They were full of various scenes of people's lives in England, and it was amazing because I found the photos very similar to pictures of my own family members -- they're from the South. It's a pretty different background and yet the pictures are the same. We're capturing the same moments.

These pictures tell the stories of our lives and these cameras are what act as the middle man, in a way. They capture moments that are enjoyable in that second and carry them forward for us so that we may revisit them at any moment. I've always loved to collect cameras and when I saw these, I thought of my own collection. I thought about how connected I am to my own cameras. Now, of course, we don't carry around our cameras because our phones double but the same principle applies. The camera serves as a way for us to remember every moment. I know I've been trying to capture every second of my trip to Oxford and, once upon a time, someone else was carrying around one of these cameras trying to capture their time as Oxford just as well. Cameras not only connect us to our memories; they encourage us to embrace our surrounding and the fleeting moments of enjoyment that constantly accompany travel.

catch you later,
Karleigh