A bit of Everything by Abigail Mullin
Instructions
One thing every day: a church, a museum, a restaurant, a speaker, a street, something. This ambition feels achievable while ensuring that I make the most of this precious experience. This being here has made me hyper-aware of how I spend my days. I feel the passage of time in novel ways. See it all. Feel it all, but breathe. Reflect. It is one thing to have experiences, but much of the value comes from how you remember them. I must protect these experiences from the effects of time.
Exploration
I have run about sixty-five miles since arriving in Oxford. Because Oxford is just under eighteen square miles, one might assume that I would have seen quite a lot of the city by now, but you would be mistaken. I would guess that ninety percent of my time running has been spent meandering in circles around the streets outlined above. The first few days, I deviated from this route. I wanted to explore the city. I craved the feeling that I was maximizing my time here, but running down High Street jam-packed with tourists and locals alike proved to be severely inconvenient. I became tired of weaving through crowds, never sure whether to pass on the right or the left, so I ventured elsewhere. I began to favor the University Park trails and quieter residential roads.
At FYSA, we talk endlessly about the global perspective and gaining cultural competency. We want to see the world to see every church and palace, but this small chunk of time running each day has rounded out my experience in unexpected ways. In one context, it is my escape. Alternatively, wandering around neighborhoods and parks has been an exercise in immersion. Leaving our FYSA bubble, I can experience a bite of British life. I am surrounded by moms taking their kids to the park, people commuting home from the office, and food delivery workers whizzing by on their bikes. I aspire to have one new experience every day, and recently many of those have been adding a new small section path to my existing repertoire.
Woof Woof
There is something special about the ordinary. I know this truth most deeply when looking into the eyes of a dog who does not hunt or do fancy spins and leaps. Maybe to be housebroken and walk politely on a lead is plenty. A dog’s face, still but for the slight movement of each breath, as he lies in absolute peace on the sofa, is a beautiful sight. It deserves to be remembered. Perhaps, its memory should be more fiercely protected than the likes of any hunting dog: beauty in the mundane
Messages
You must be on a deliberate lookout for the wonder in the world. This exhibit allowed viewers to be active participants. You could craft your own experiences in addition to shaping the experience of those you have not met. There is something special about the desire to spread well wishes to those you do not and will not know. This opportunity feels tied to the practice of gratitude. Sharing gratitude for others most obviously benefits the person being appreciated, but it also positively impacts the happiness of the one doing the recognizing. My day was positively impacted by the silly depiction of Remy from Ratatouille and the note from the prior Georgia Tech summer cohort wishing me “a fabulous day”. I can only assume their days were improved by doing a kind thing. If not, why would anyone choose to spend their precious time and energy in this manner?
Toes
I struggle to accept that I have limited control over my focus and emotions. You enter an experience expecting events to unfold in a particular manner, but they rarely follow the script you created. Sometimes a pigeon appears, and sometimes he is missing a toe.
The Ashmolean Museum is a sight to behold. I struggle to imagine people being able to craft a building so spectacular. The exterior has more intricate stone carvings than I could fully appreciate in this lifetime, but it still has pigeons. These small pests remind me that this is not actually a storybook. Just like pigeons everywhere else, these pigeons steal food and poop on heads. They are a virtually ubiquitous annoyance of urban life, but when I see one without a toe, my day momentarily halts. An hour ago, I wished its species would cease to exist. In a moment, it becomes a poor thing that I could never wish to harm, even in the direst of circumstances. Suddenly, the most wonderful building I have ever laid eyes on disappears into oblivion because of a toeless pigeon.
Slice of Memory
The Pizza Express Double American Cheese pizza I devoured last Friday night transported me to Lexington, Virginia.
I got into Georgia Tech on Friday, March 27th at 7:00 PM. It was the last school of my schools to release decisions. I had known for months that if I got in, I would go. When I saw the virtual confetti, I was hundreds of miles away from friends and family in a hotel room in Lexington, Virginia. I was completely alone.
I had spent the day attending Washington and Lee accepted students’ day. My mom had work, and my dad had gotten out of the hospital only the day before, so I packed up the car and drove myself six hours to Lexington. My parents are Washington and Lee alumni. I know I could have been happy and successful at Washington and Lee, but it felt like the safe option. I craved my own path.
In an instant, my plans for the next four years became crystal clear. It felt almost as if I should run down to the front desk and tell them my news, but I didn’t. Instead, I got myself a pepperoni pizza, earily similarly one I had this past week. Walking back to Mansfield, I was overwhelmed with sentimentality. The warmth of the Pizza emanating through the box felt eerily familiar, except now I am a RAT.
Swimming
“Put your head under”
“No, I’m not ready”
That day, the summer before kindergarten, we splashed about the pool. Regan bravely submerged her head underwater while I refused. Since that day, we have taken on life as a duo. These roles as the daring one willing to put their head under and me a step behind have persisted. Regan is two days older than me. She walked across the graduation stage one person ahead of me. She signed us up for a half marathon and convinced me to start ski racing. This friendship has been the greatest blessing of my life, but leaving for Tech feels like my first truly independent pursuit since kindergarten.
Best Intentions
Dino
Dinosaurs are Regan’s thing. In my mind, the two are virtually synonymous. Walking into the Natural History Museum, I am taken aback by a feeling of homesickness buried deeply in my stomach. This natural history museum transports me back to Pittsburgh to the Carnegie Natural History Museum. Right to the secret passage between the library and the museum, and to the endless archives Regan had special access to while working in the paleontology lab. This museum has labs and dinosaurs, but no Regan. I miss her deeply, yes, but being in this space evokes more complicated feelings. Fears that I haven’t been a good friend since leaving, a twinge of guilt that I chose to leave, and the grief that comes from leaving one chapter for the next.
Butterfly Effect
Sean
It had been weeks since I had talked to my mom. Arriving at Oxford and properly starting college classes had swept me away. I had not been deliberately dodging her calls; they were genuinely coming at inconvenient moments during class or in the very middle of community dinner. I began to feel more guilty as each missed call accumulated. Counterproductively, with each day I did not reach out, doing so felt infinitely more difficult.
It was rapidly becoming quite late. I still had not read half the textbook readings for my HTS midterm exam the next day. My phone rang. It is my mom. I realized that for the first time in my life, she had no idea that I have a rapidly approaching midterm. In that moment, my urge to procrastinate overcame my guilt and embarrassment and I picked up the call.
Hey, what do I owe this pleasure?
I’m just in the car with your brother; we were just wondering how you were doing
I’m good. I’d be better if I didn’t have a midterm tomorrow
If you need to study, we can call later
No, I’d like a break anyhow
I’m sure you would, if you insist
As we began to talk, it felt easy and normal. I couldn’t believe that I had been avoiding this.
What’s new at home?
Sean started high school this week. I’m taking him home from school basketball practice now, actually.
I froze. I was flabbergasted. I had forgotten my little brother’s first day of high school. I realized that without the family dinners and driving him to sports practices, I had fallen out of the loop. I had no idea what friends were in his classes or even which teacher he had. This is the first year we haven’t taken our first day of school picture together.
For much of our lives, four years felt like an eternity apart. We struggled to relate to one another, but this spring marked a notable shift in our relationship. Every year during spring break, our family took a trip together, but last spring my dad became quite ill. He spent several weeks in the hospital, and most of that time, my mom stayed with him. Sean and I were living in our own sort of universe. Our relationship was not only smooth sailing during this time. Stress was high, and we had some diabolical fights, but this was the most time we had ever spent together. When the time for our family vacation rolled around, we asked if just the two of us could go. My parents agreed. Walking into the airport next to Sean, there was a noticeable change in our relationship.
1 Mullin, Brooke. Personal Interview. Conducted by Abigail Mullin, 28 August 2026
Punts
Watching the punting groups is quite entertaining. As I peer over from the garden, I observe two boats that have run into each other and are now creating a traffic jam for a third punt. Two weeks ago, I don’t believe that I would have taken any interest in the success (or failure) of punting groups of strangers, but now I am absolutely enthralled in the struggles and eventual triumph. Having attempted to punt, I am curious to see others do it. Does their experience look similar to mine? This punt collision occurred at the exact same spot that I accidentally made my boat do a 360 degree spin a few weeks prior. There must be something in the water at that point. I began to smile as I watched the three groups get their punts untangled. Its is almost as if I in the boat again.
Still Moment
The wind gently bends the flowers on the lily pads. The flowers eventually return to their original position. I find lily pads beautiful because they represent a certain balance. They float on the water and grow in delightfully organic patterns. There is nothing about a lily pad that appears rigid. I am keenly aware of this last fact as I sit in the botanical gardens preoccupied by thoughts of my rapidly approaching history midterm. The anxiety makes me feel rigid and jittery. I am perfectly juxtaposed with the lily pads in this way. I was disappointed that my visit to the garden was happening before my assessment. I wanted to properly enjoy the experience, but perhaps it was a hidden blessing. I knew I was nervous about the essay, but sitting in the garden forced me to reconcile how the experience made my body feel. Being surrounded by beauty and serenity drew my attention to the way I sat like a pretzel with my feet shaking. I recalled how that morning I had a suspicious lack of appetite.
Bus Ride
The countryside flashes by. The rolling hills that should be green are toast brown from lack of water. Despite the drought conditions of the past months, it has been raining today. This fact would often be a source of annoyance for me, but I know how the land and its people have been yearning for this rain. I am grateful. The scenery changes as we approach London. The fields are beginning to be replaced by offices and apartments, but it is raining here too. The increase of traffic around the metropolitan area slows down our pace. This place is so foreign. I have not quite fully adjusted to watching cars race down the left side of roads. Simultaneously, I observe many familiar sights. The Krispy Kreme, Urban Outfitters, Chipotle, and Whole Foods look just like the ones I see out my car window in Pennsylvania. Being on this bus is a reminder of what is to come. It amazes me that three of our six weeks in Oxford have ended. Six weeks sounded like an eternity, but I am quickly learning that it is only a sliver of time. I am excited for what is to come, but now I am left wondering if I will feel ready to depart Oxford when the day comes.
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