I’m sure they meant well, and I’m sure any normal person would be unambiguously thrilled about this, but Oxford have gone and placed the last straw on the camel’s back that is my neurotic nature. They have defied the laws of probability and common sense. Friends, they’ve given me an interview for English.
I think I should explain how un-Oxonian I am in order to impress upon you the magnitude of this. My grades are woeful, my extra-curriculars few and puny, my work ethic severely underdeveloped. I fidget and mumble and break out in acne like a permanently nervous, socially awkward badass. I cut my own hair over the bathroom sink. I am not what they’re looking for. Admittedly, I am unhealthily interested in literature, but so are the other four applicants they’ll be interviewing for the place, and they all probably also have a spotless academic record, Grade VIII violin and posture to die for, along with being clever to the point where it’s actually vulgar. Perfect people. Perfect, perfect people.
So I’m going to look on it as a little holiday, a chance to talk about books with some leading academics, to meet some English nerds my own age. Most of the nerds I know right now are of the scientific/mathematical variety, which is interesting, but, distressingly, not very conducive to literary discussion. Oh, and what with the snow, it’s probably a lovely place to be at this time of year. Maybe the ‘activities’ they vaguely allude to in the letter will include a giant snowball fight, which the engineers and the physicists will win because they have spatial awareness and junk.
Above all, I’m trying not to expect, or even want, an offer. The problem is, if I don’t expect/want it so much that I don’t make much of an effort, it’ll be a self-fulfilling prophesy, so you see my dilemma.
Argh. It doesn’t help that everything I’ve read about the process contradicts everything else I’ve read about the process, so I don’t know whether I should prepare intensively or not at all, dress formally or do my usual baggy jumper/skinny jeans thing, try to bluff a little or be completely honest. I’ve a few mildly bizarro theories up my sleeve that might interest them (“For Joyce, writing and defecation are comparable acts,” etc.) but they might equally well think I’m trying too hard to stand out. Obviously, every year they must get at least a few ‘characters’ who send in a skinned rat instead of written work or claim that the best poetry is shaped like genitalia or something, but I’d really, really prefer not to distinguish myself in that way.
And maybe it’s all a dreadful mistake. Mild secretarial slip, love. Sorry to have gotten your hopes up. We are no longer considering your application. You needn’t come for interview. Something civilised and clean-cut like that.
Fffffffffffff. I need to do my homework. Not that I even have much, because my school’s been closed for the past few days even though we’re no-where near the mountains, but because of that, it’ll look pretty bad if I don’t have it done. Leaving Cert. I’m doing the Leaving Cert. I need to put this stupid interview out of mind. This stupid, lovely interview that will amount to nothing. Right, I’ll stop whining right now and get on with things.
Does anyone else have one? If so, are you preparing? Can you feel your nerves – oh, ho, how topical – snowballing?
If your wit is as sharp, dry and eclectically ingenious in the interview as it is in the above composition, you might as well add Oxford to your CV right now.
Cheers! Though given how wildly I gesticulate when talking about books, I think they’ll be too concerned that I’m going to put someone’s eye out to actually listen to me. As my mam put it, it’ll be an “experience” for all involved. The bad kind of experience that you put in inverted commas, one suspects.
No doubt the Oxonian bells shall soon herald your daily rise to the matutinal prayers(accompanied, occasionally, by the dissonant overtones of a hangover!) May I enquire as to which college it is that you intend to matriculate? I do hope it is Maudlen, Mansfield, Corpus Christi or Balliol (or some such) and not one of those inferior “halls” such as Wycliffe or St. Benet’s.
I realise that all of these posts are geriatric in nature at this stage and I’ll be surprised if you even illicit a response, but dear God, your standard of English is fantastic.
I will never achieve the coveted A1 with people like you in this country!! PS. Are you now an Oxonian???