I woke up this morning to shouts and whistles blowing outside. I ran over the the window and looked out over the grand canal here in venice, where I saw countless boats full of protesters. I don't know Italian, so I'm not sure what they are protesting, but I think it could have something to do with the train strike that has been going on for the last few days. We were lucky yesterday to have gotten tickets on a european railway that wasn't on strike. We met a family who had been stranded in Florence for days because the train they were supposed to have caught was refusing to run. Ann and I waited in line last night at the train station to reserve a ticket to Geneva, so we should be good to go to Switzerland today. We've been so greatly blessed on this trip and we are sure that the hand of God has been in our travels. There have been so many wonderful people who we have met along the way. During ride from the London temple to the Stansted airport, our cab driver had a lot of great questions to ask about the LDS church. He had been driving members to and from the airport and temple for years and no one had ever said a thing. We did our best to answer his questions and at the end of the drive we gave him one of my travel Book of Mormons and he promised us he would read it. He was so excited to hear that families could be together forever. We'll follow up on his progress for sure. We also met this great German man yesterday who is is Venice for teacher training. He teaches people how to increase their conficence, self esteem, and self awareness. He was telling us that the structures of our faces and body are reflective of our personality traits. He read my personality dead on. It was pretty neat.
Florence was so beautiful. We stayed at a camping site just 45 minutes outside of the city. It was probably the most posh camping site I've ever seen. All the beds were inside very spacious and clean dorms, there was a market with fresh fruit, bread, and cheese, and their was the cleanest pool I've ever had the priveledge to swim in. I, of course, got fried and I now look like a human sized lobster-doh! I have the lyrics of that song resonating in my head, "and remember, to always wear sunscreen." In Florence we went to the Ufizzi museum which had some AMAZING art-Boteccelli, Da Vinci-you name it, it was there. We also had the delight of eating mounds of gelato, which has become a daily ritual.
Venice is insane. There are so many tourists here. It's annoying, but I am one of them, so I guess I shouldn't complain. There are shops on every corner, all full of glass blown items and masks. The streets are so windy, it becomes easy to get lost. Yesterday we were lost for a good four hours, but we enjoyed the shops and gilato while we were at it. If you're going to get lost anywhere in the world, do it in Italy.
Well, it's my birthday. I had a dream last night that Rachel had her baby on my birthday-which I hope is an omen of truth. How sweet would that be? But then I also had a dream that McKenzie almost drowned, so hopefully all my dreams won't come true. McKenzie, please swim safely. I ate cake for breakfast, and Ann's going to treat me to some gilato (surprise). It's crazy to be twenty-one. Now it's time for all the questions to start...meh.
Anywho, I hope all is well at home. Lindsey, Happy Birthday! I'm so glad we share such a sweet day together. Rachel, get crackin' on that baby!
I send you all my love from Italia!
Love,
Ev
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
ROMA!
We've had a crazy trip to europe so far...what with flight delays, overbooked hostels, and exploding conditioner, but at the end of the day, we've seen the pantheon, colosseum (i could almost see maximus rising from the dust), the trevi fountain, and bundles of other amazing sites and ruins...bundles! Rome is incredible-spectacles on every street corner. i fell in love with london, but that was just puppy love. i think this is the real thing. !Roma, ti amo! Andrea, all those hours studying for humanities paid off...well, at least for me...even if we had to put up with jon...i mean, al. hehe. Tomorrow we're headed to the vattican city, and it's so big, we'll probably spend the whole day there.
I wanted to draw everyone's attention to the pictures in the previous post. i hope you all noticed the corn ice cream...martha stewart would be proud!
hope all is well at home!
much love,
ev
I wanted to draw everyone's attention to the pictures in the previous post. i hope you all noticed the corn ice cream...martha stewart would be proud!
hope all is well at home!
much love,
ev
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Laundry calling
Hello my little pretties!
I'm in London and, man alive, is it a circus down here. There is so much to do, and so much to see, and so many people and tourist traps and cigarettes. It smells like the Fourth of July everyday here! (Ok, that may not make sense. The Fourth of July reminds me of the Logan car show...which smells like beer and cigarette smoke.) We've seen so much, I hope I can remember it all. Tuesday night a small group of us went to Wicked. We had gotten up super early that morning to wait in line so we got front row seats! That's right ladies, Fiero's spit was gracing my face! So cool.
Some more sweet highlights include Westminster Abbey (where everyone who is anyone is buried...so mostly royalty and poets.), the National Gallery, Big Ben, the Tower of London, and a whole lot of the tube.
Last night we went to a play at the royal theatre called "A Matter of Life and Death", which I would recommend to anyone who finds themselves in London while it's still showing. I liked it better than Wicked, which is saying a lot because, man, have you seen Fiero? :) After the play was over I sobbed for a good twenty minutes; the play's message was so powerful. And after the tears were over Ann and I walked along the Thames and enjoyed some live music that was floating up from one of the boats on the river. I fell in love with London last night...and with Almond Magnum Bars.
London is great, but our hostel is hostile. Seriously, this place is the pits. You remember the soup nazi from Seinfield? Yeah! they hired his cousin to work here. There was a bit of a commotion at breakfast this morning when a member of our group went back for an apple. The hostel nazi saw her and sneered, "You! I saw you take an apple already! You put that apple back!" So much for breakfast buffets-eh? In addition to the crazy apple lady, there are a whole lot of other difficulties we've run into...and I am wondering if a lot of it has to do with our nationality. Generally Americans aren't well liked outside of the US (in case you haven't picked up on that) and it's been a really humbling experience to be ridiculed for my nationality. It's something I'll surely remember and try to take with me when I come back to the US.
Anywho, I'm off to do some laundry before I see Les Miserables. Hope all is well at home!
Much love,
Ev
I'm in London and, man alive, is it a circus down here. There is so much to do, and so much to see, and so many people and tourist traps and cigarettes. It smells like the Fourth of July everyday here! (Ok, that may not make sense. The Fourth of July reminds me of the Logan car show...which smells like beer and cigarette smoke.) We've seen so much, I hope I can remember it all. Tuesday night a small group of us went to Wicked. We had gotten up super early that morning to wait in line so we got front row seats! That's right ladies, Fiero's spit was gracing my face! So cool.
Some more sweet highlights include Westminster Abbey (where everyone who is anyone is buried...so mostly royalty and poets.), the National Gallery, Big Ben, the Tower of London, and a whole lot of the tube.
Last night we went to a play at the royal theatre called "A Matter of Life and Death", which I would recommend to anyone who finds themselves in London while it's still showing. I liked it better than Wicked, which is saying a lot because, man, have you seen Fiero? :) After the play was over I sobbed for a good twenty minutes; the play's message was so powerful. And after the tears were over Ann and I walked along the Thames and enjoyed some live music that was floating up from one of the boats on the river. I fell in love with London last night...and with Almond Magnum Bars.
London is great, but our hostel is hostile. Seriously, this place is the pits. You remember the soup nazi from Seinfield? Yeah! they hired his cousin to work here. There was a bit of a commotion at breakfast this morning when a member of our group went back for an apple. The hostel nazi saw her and sneered, "You! I saw you take an apple already! You put that apple back!" So much for breakfast buffets-eh? In addition to the crazy apple lady, there are a whole lot of other difficulties we've run into...and I am wondering if a lot of it has to do with our nationality. Generally Americans aren't well liked outside of the US (in case you haven't picked up on that) and it's been a really humbling experience to be ridiculed for my nationality. It's something I'll surely remember and try to take with me when I come back to the US.
Anywho, I'm off to do some laundry before I see Les Miserables. Hope all is well at home!
Much love,
Ev
Friday, June 1, 2007
this is a blog title
so the adventure continues. I'm in bath for the next three nights and then it is on to london. wahoo. Stone henge was everything i expected and more. this really has been such an incredible trip, i don't know if i'll ever be able to write about all of it. mmm...euro fanta is so much better.
Cheryl's pony had a baby? what the? that's crazy, it seems these days everyone's having babies. andrea, don't get any ideas!
We saw pirates of the carribean in waymouth, after spending the entire day on the beach. I really dug that flick, and i really'd like to see it again, someday, when i have money.
Anywho...the chocolate pounds are coming along just fine.
much love-will write later gator.
ev
Cheryl's pony had a baby? what the? that's crazy, it seems these days everyone's having babies. andrea, don't get any ideas!
We saw pirates of the carribean in waymouth, after spending the entire day on the beach. I really dug that flick, and i really'd like to see it again, someday, when i have money.
Anywho...the chocolate pounds are coming along just fine.
much love-will write later gator.
ev
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Bright!
Hey fam,
It's been another great week here in the motherland. We're spending the next few nights in Wiltshire on the south end of england. We just spent the last few days on the Isle of Wight where Tennyson hung out and wrote his best poetry. I'm finally in the groove of things and my writing is finally coming along. I've been working on my autobiography, among other things, so it will be fun to share with ya'll when it's finished, since it's mostly about all of you.
I don't have much time, but i thought i'd share one of the more amusing stories of the week. While we were in Oxford we saw Guys and Dolls and afterwards decided to go dancing...yes, yes, i know, wild and wreckless...but we had mace!!! It was pretty amusing to go into the dance club with our mormified stake dance moves. In the beginning, people gave us strange sideways glances and peculiar looks. It was obvious that we didn't fit in. Many boys became confused, wondering why we wouldn't dance with them. Haha. But little by little, they began to mimmick our moves. Yup, we had a whole slooth of british techno-dancers jamming out mormon style. Now here's the crowning moment. We were talking to the bouncers on the way out and one of them said, "You girls are different. I can't put my finger on it, but you're just...bright?....yeah, that's the only way to describe it. Bright!" Gospel moment? I didn't think a pub would have been the best place to pull out a Book of Mormon....but it was neat.
The pictures of graduation and mother's day were great to see. I really support the whole lot of our family joining in on the Picasa picture sharing fun. I couldn't believe that Daniel and Rachel found yet another way to revive the Jenny Doll. A vase-how thoughtful. Please eat an extra pork salad for me as you watch the american idol finale.
We toured a the Salisbury cathedral today where a page of the Magna Carta is on display. So cool. Tomorrow morning we're waking up at 4:30 am to walk to Stone Henge, this way we can actually go up to the stones and sit around them. Later on in the day, visitors can only see them from a distance. Judging from our group's history, i'm sure some pagan something or other might transpire.
Anywho, my internet time here is almost up.
Much love,
Ev
It's been another great week here in the motherland. We're spending the next few nights in Wiltshire on the south end of england. We just spent the last few days on the Isle of Wight where Tennyson hung out and wrote his best poetry. I'm finally in the groove of things and my writing is finally coming along. I've been working on my autobiography, among other things, so it will be fun to share with ya'll when it's finished, since it's mostly about all of you.
I don't have much time, but i thought i'd share one of the more amusing stories of the week. While we were in Oxford we saw Guys and Dolls and afterwards decided to go dancing...yes, yes, i know, wild and wreckless...but we had mace!!! It was pretty amusing to go into the dance club with our mormified stake dance moves. In the beginning, people gave us strange sideways glances and peculiar looks. It was obvious that we didn't fit in. Many boys became confused, wondering why we wouldn't dance with them. Haha. But little by little, they began to mimmick our moves. Yup, we had a whole slooth of british techno-dancers jamming out mormon style. Now here's the crowning moment. We were talking to the bouncers on the way out and one of them said, "You girls are different. I can't put my finger on it, but you're just...bright?....yeah, that's the only way to describe it. Bright!" Gospel moment? I didn't think a pub would have been the best place to pull out a Book of Mormon....but it was neat.
The pictures of graduation and mother's day were great to see. I really support the whole lot of our family joining in on the Picasa picture sharing fun. I couldn't believe that Daniel and Rachel found yet another way to revive the Jenny Doll. A vase-how thoughtful. Please eat an extra pork salad for me as you watch the american idol finale.
We toured a the Salisbury cathedral today where a page of the Magna Carta is on display. So cool. Tomorrow morning we're waking up at 4:30 am to walk to Stone Henge, this way we can actually go up to the stones and sit around them. Later on in the day, visitors can only see them from a distance. Judging from our group's history, i'm sure some pagan something or other might transpire.
Anywho, my internet time here is almost up.
Much love,
Ev
Thursday, May 17, 2007
really really ridiculously smart looking people
Hey all,
Life has found me in Oxford and I'm surrounded by really smart/good looking men. Ok, who am I kidding? After spending three weeks in the country side with only women and lambs to keep me company, any guy looks good. Sigh. We saw the very anticipated King Lear the other night in Stratford-on-Avon and it was very very good, and very very sad. Ian was a gem...and he got nude for a scene...that was different. Anywho, today we are hanging out in Oxford where C.S. Lewis and Tolkien sipped coffe over their writings. It's a really great college town and i've promised myself that in my second life, i'm going to do really well in school so i can go to college here. No more sluffing at Gandolfo's. Hehe. I've fallen in love with the cheese here. I don't think i'll ever go back to chedder. Yuck. The chocolate is also a dangerous affair. I've sold my soul to the Cadbury easter bunny. It's over.
Anywho, internet time is short. I hope you are all well. Thanks for the emails.
Much love,
Evelyn
Life has found me in Oxford and I'm surrounded by really smart/good looking men. Ok, who am I kidding? After spending three weeks in the country side with only women and lambs to keep me company, any guy looks good. Sigh. We saw the very anticipated King Lear the other night in Stratford-on-Avon and it was very very good, and very very sad. Ian was a gem...and he got nude for a scene...that was different. Anywho, today we are hanging out in Oxford where C.S. Lewis and Tolkien sipped coffe over their writings. It's a really great college town and i've promised myself that in my second life, i'm going to do really well in school so i can go to college here. No more sluffing at Gandolfo's. Hehe. I've fallen in love with the cheese here. I don't think i'll ever go back to chedder. Yuck. The chocolate is also a dangerous affair. I've sold my soul to the Cadbury easter bunny. It's over.
Anywho, internet time is short. I hope you are all well. Thanks for the emails.
Much love,
Evelyn
Friday, May 11, 2007
blisters, wind burns, and hostels :)
hola familia!
Things are going well in England. I finally have a few minutes of good internet, so I'll do my best to let you all in on my adventures. This past week has been full of English countryside! We spent three nights in Grassmere, Wordsworth's hometown. It has probably been my favourite place so far. There are so many little baby lambs romping around the green fields. I thought i'd seen green before this trip, but i'm learning that i really hadn't. The intensity of the vegetation's greenosity (haha, i'm making up words) continues to take my breath away daily...or maybe it's the steepness of the trail testing my lungs. hehe. While in Grassmere, we had a poetry reading at wordsworth's grave and toured Dove cottage and Rydale Mount, the two houses at which he mainly lived and wrote his best poetry. I've picked up sketching in my journal and i've been playing around with chalk and pastel mediums. It's been a fun way to capture the surrounding landscape and history. We, of course, carried out a pagan ritual of playing penny whistles while wading in the river near wordsworth's grave. A drunk man nearby thought we were a group of traveling minstrels and he asked us if we played requests. we said, "sure, why not." he then, very swankily asked us if we knew who the beatles were and if we'd play one of their songs. Three of us were wearing black, and he dubbed us the group's "bouncers" or body guards. I guess i'm picking up on a lot of new talents and hobbies here. I am now a pagan saint, an artist, a musician, and a bouncer. I wonder what occupations lay in store next week.
The past few days were pretty exhausting. I'm not going to lie, they tested my endurance. We hiked 15 miles on tuesday and 20 miles on wednesday across the moors. Although it was relatively all "flat land" the trail was full of hills and valleys. I have loads of beautiful blisters. Mom, i'm learning that i inherited your feet-they blister in all the same places. :) After walking 20 miles across the moors in the wind and rain (woah is me! Oy! jk, the weather was quite pleasant, really) we toured Haworth, the little town the Bronte sisters lived in. They have a massive graveyard with layers and layers of coffins stacked on top of each other. There is hardly any dirt left to cover the coffins. There are said to be 45,000 bodies buried in a plot of roughly a 1/2 acre. Lots of dead bodies, lots of gravestones, and lots of funerals...all in front of the bronte's house. No wonder they are catagorized as Romantic-gothics, eh?
Still no serious sun burning. I'm really thinking that my genes were engineered for this place.
We'll be spending the next few days in Warwick (pronounced warick) and then we'll be heading to stratford on monday to see King Lear (with Ian McKellen-aka Gandolf!)Othello, and some other modern play that's supposed to be neat.
Anywho, i'd better get off and share the computer lovin'.
Thanks for all the emails and comments. I love and miss you all.
oh, and for my birthday, i've decided that i want a baby lamb. He'd be so cute romping and bleating around my apartment. Sigh.
Cheers,
Evelyn
Oh...and I'll explain the pictures.
The first was taken on top of a sort of "cliffs of despair" type place. The rock was a type of lime stone that had been worn away over the years. we could hop about from rock to rock, each having deep crevices in between. It was quite the magical place. The second in me and Ann at an old church near Wordworth's second home. We found a string telephone behind some steps and revisited our choldhoods.
The thrid is a hot picture of me in my shorts and bandana overlooking the lush countryside of grassmere, wordsworth's home valley (i loved it-can you tell?)
The last was on the banks of a little river in Keswick where little baby ducklings were swimming about...daniel, i thought of you. Did you know british ducks like eating bread too? Fancy that.
Anywho, i'll try to post more pictures later...maybe when i don't look so frumpy and granola-ish. hehe.
Please wish Kristy and Sarah happy birthday for me!
Love love,
ev
Things are going well in England. I finally have a few minutes of good internet, so I'll do my best to let you all in on my adventures. This past week has been full of English countryside! We spent three nights in Grassmere, Wordsworth's hometown. It has probably been my favourite place so far. There are so many little baby lambs romping around the green fields. I thought i'd seen green before this trip, but i'm learning that i really hadn't. The intensity of the vegetation's greenosity (haha, i'm making up words) continues to take my breath away daily...or maybe it's the steepness of the trail testing my lungs. hehe. While in Grassmere, we had a poetry reading at wordsworth's grave and toured Dove cottage and Rydale Mount, the two houses at which he mainly lived and wrote his best poetry. I've picked up sketching in my journal and i've been playing around with chalk and pastel mediums. It's been a fun way to capture the surrounding landscape and history. We, of course, carried out a pagan ritual of playing penny whistles while wading in the river near wordsworth's grave. A drunk man nearby thought we were a group of traveling minstrels and he asked us if we played requests. we said, "sure, why not." he then, very swankily asked us if we knew who the beatles were and if we'd play one of their songs. Three of us were wearing black, and he dubbed us the group's "bouncers" or body guards. I guess i'm picking up on a lot of new talents and hobbies here. I am now a pagan saint, an artist, a musician, and a bouncer. I wonder what occupations lay in store next week.
The past few days were pretty exhausting. I'm not going to lie, they tested my endurance. We hiked 15 miles on tuesday and 20 miles on wednesday across the moors. Although it was relatively all "flat land" the trail was full of hills and valleys. I have loads of beautiful blisters. Mom, i'm learning that i inherited your feet-they blister in all the same places. :) After walking 20 miles across the moors in the wind and rain (woah is me! Oy! jk, the weather was quite pleasant, really) we toured Haworth, the little town the Bronte sisters lived in. They have a massive graveyard with layers and layers of coffins stacked on top of each other. There is hardly any dirt left to cover the coffins. There are said to be 45,000 bodies buried in a plot of roughly a 1/2 acre. Lots of dead bodies, lots of gravestones, and lots of funerals...all in front of the bronte's house. No wonder they are catagorized as Romantic-gothics, eh?
Still no serious sun burning. I'm really thinking that my genes were engineered for this place.
We'll be spending the next few days in Warwick (pronounced warick) and then we'll be heading to stratford on monday to see King Lear (with Ian McKellen-aka Gandolf!)Othello, and some other modern play that's supposed to be neat.
Anywho, i'd better get off and share the computer lovin'.
Thanks for all the emails and comments. I love and miss you all.
oh, and for my birthday, i've decided that i want a baby lamb. He'd be so cute romping and bleating around my apartment. Sigh.
Cheers,
Evelyn
Oh...and I'll explain the pictures.
The first was taken on top of a sort of "cliffs of despair" type place. The rock was a type of lime stone that had been worn away over the years. we could hop about from rock to rock, each having deep crevices in between. It was quite the magical place. The second in me and Ann at an old church near Wordworth's second home. We found a string telephone behind some steps and revisited our choldhoods.
The thrid is a hot picture of me in my shorts and bandana overlooking the lush countryside of grassmere, wordsworth's home valley (i loved it-can you tell?)
The last was on the banks of a little river in Keswick where little baby ducklings were swimming about...daniel, i thought of you. Did you know british ducks like eating bread too? Fancy that.
Anywho, i'll try to post more pictures later...maybe when i don't look so frumpy and granola-ish. hehe.
Please wish Kristy and Sarah happy birthday for me!
Love love,
ev
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
England with a Veiw
Well Familypants, I'm alive ... and very lively. Happy birthday Rachel, you old fart! I'm sorry I missed your birthday and your baby shower. I was on the top of Ben Lomond on the 27th and thought of you. That mountain really does have a steep side, like the song says, but luckily we went up the not-so-steep side. We've been hiking a whole bunch, as was planned for. Seriously, my life rocks right now. To think that last summer i was sitting in a cubicle all day...and now i'm hiking anywhere from 4-14 miles everyday. I love getting sunburned here! it feels so good! since the elevation is lower, the sun isn't as harsh, and it's very similar to a tanning bed, where my freckles just get darker and i never really burn, peel, or blister. Sorry i haven't been able to call or email much, Mom. We've been in the remotest part of the Lake District (where Wordsworth and Coleridge wrote their best poetry!) and we've been far from city civilization...which means no internet and no laundry. oh boy do we smell good! Right now we are in the town of keswick which has a anchient stone circle similar to stone henge in make and history. Last night the moon was full and a handfull of us snuck away and hiked to the circle. We then did our best imitations of a pagan ceremony. Liz and Bess played their penny whistles while the rest of us romped around on the stones and cow dung. it was silly, but magical. Yesterday, (before the heathen worshippings) we hiked to the highest point in England. Again, i can't stress enough how much i love the lower elevation. the hike was challenging, but very pleasant at the same time. Bess, Ann, Liz and I found a small mountain pool and took a short swim. Don't worry Mother, it wasn't completely what i consider skinny dipping. I'll keep my promise! The land here is beautiful, and reminds me of home in so many ways. It's been great to find a place where i really fit in; many folks in scotland and england have my red hair and freckles, especially the scots. Well, internet time is short and pricey, so i better jet. I'll leave you with some pics if it works. I love you all!
Much love,
Evelyn
ev
evy
pev
little dork
pevy poo
whatev
Much love,
Evelyn
ev
evy
pev
little dork
pevy poo
whatev
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Plane rides and Scotland
After endless hours of airplane travel and many cricks in my neck, I've arrived in Scotland. I'm happy to say that I won't be on a plane for a good long while; it's a wretched place to sleep. It's 10:30 am here, which means it's something like 3:30 am in Utah. My body's freaking out on me; it's so confused. Luckily I have night quil so I'll be able to knock myself out tonight (thanks for the tip Andrea).
Our program doesn't start until thursday, so we have a couple days to hang out here in Edinburgh. We're going to head out to see some castles and scotish livestock. Word on the street is that the billy goats here speak in a keen scotish accent. We saw some sweet oreo looking cows on the way over and I'm pumped about that. Mostly, I'm just a little delerious from jet lag and no sleep (Ann and I pulled an all nighter before we left). Anywho, I just wanted you to know that we have arrived safely and I hope you are all doing well. I'm about to take some knarly pictures...so stay posted.
Much love,
Ev
Our program doesn't start until thursday, so we have a couple days to hang out here in Edinburgh. We're going to head out to see some castles and scotish livestock. Word on the street is that the billy goats here speak in a keen scotish accent. We saw some sweet oreo looking cows on the way over and I'm pumped about that. Mostly, I'm just a little delerious from jet lag and no sleep (Ann and I pulled an all nighter before we left). Anywho, I just wanted you to know that we have arrived safely and I hope you are all doing well. I'm about to take some knarly pictures...so stay posted.
Much love,
Ev
Friday, April 20, 2007
Off to the Motherland!
Ok Familypants,
I'll be off on my little adventure in a few days here and things are a bit hectic with finals, packing, moving, and my crazy new hair color to deal with. However, I figured since I'd be leaving ya'll during two very important and event-filled months, I'd try to keep in touch via blog.
In case you're wondering, I leave for England on Tuesday the 24th and I'll be backpacking in the motherland until my study abroad program ends on June 15th. After that, I'll be going on another sort of adventure with some of my more daring friends. We'll be spending the next three weeks in Italy, Switzerland, France, and Spain. I'll try not to get too lost, or mugged too much. I will, however, try to gain as much chocolate weight as possible and try my shot at skinny dipping in each country (just for kicks). I'll be carefully documenting my little trip and I'll post pictures
every chance I get (probably not of the skinny dipping).
Just in case I don't get too many chances in Europe, here are some pictures of me in Utah (I know, boring). This way, every time you are missing me and your heart feels like it's going to combust due to an
overload of Evelyn nostalgia, you can just hop on the net, look at these photos, remember me, and cry some more.
Family! I really will miss you. I'm interested to see how I will handle homesickness, because let's face it, Provo Canyon's the farthest I've lived from home for an extended peroid of time.
Good luck on all the babies and birthdays and baptisms and all that other jazz. I'll miss you all! Please take care of Muddy for me...she's such a good kitty. Oh, and if the attic goes up in flames, please try your hardest to retrieve my snowboard, it's such a pretty thing. Anywho, I hope you all know that I love you to pieces and I appreciate all of your encouragement and support!
Much love,
Evelyn
I'll be off on my little adventure in a few days here and things are a bit hectic with finals, packing, moving, and my crazy new hair color to deal with. However, I figured since I'd be leaving ya'll during two very important and event-filled months, I'd try to keep in touch via blog.
In case you're wondering, I leave for England on Tuesday the 24th and I'll be backpacking in the motherland until my study abroad program ends on June 15th. After that, I'll be going on another sort of adventure with some of my more daring friends. We'll be spending the next three weeks in Italy, Switzerland, France, and Spain. I'll try not to get too lost, or mugged too much. I will, however, try to gain as much chocolate weight as possible and try my shot at skinny dipping in each country (just for kicks). I'll be carefully documenting my little trip and I'll post pictures
every chance I get (probably not of the skinny dipping).Just in case I don't get too many chances in Europe, here are some pictures of me in Utah (I know, boring). This way, every time you are missing me and your heart feels like it's going to combust due to an
overload of Evelyn nostalgia, you can just hop on the net, look at these photos, remember me, and cry some more.Family! I really will miss you. I'm interested to see how I will handle homesickness, because let's face it, Provo Canyon's the farthest I've lived from home for an extended peroid of time.
Good luck on all the babies and birthdays and baptisms and all that other jazz. I'll miss you all! Please take care of Muddy for me...she's such a good kitty. Oh, and if the attic goes up in flames, please try your hardest to retrieve my snowboard, it's such a pretty thing. Anywho, I hope you all know that I love you to pieces and I appreciate all of your encouragement and support!Much love,
Evelyn
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
The RM
I had to write a victorian monologue for one of my classes. I think it turned out pretty neat.
The RM
From foreign lands and cities grand,
I return home, glory bound.
With honor pristine, and conscience clean,
I hunt, my prize to be found.
I served honorably and that makes me,
A bachelor, of grandest sort.
Which is lucky for me; I must hunt with speed.
(It’s been 3 weeks since my final report.)
The Prez told me, “After you’re released,
Go out and find a wife.”
So I search young and old, for a girl I can mold,
To serve me throughout life.
Freshmen, I find, are the most malleable kind.
Their minds too young and naive,
To realize that I whisper sweet lies.
Upon my cheap words they’ll believe.
I met her there, on Brigham Square.
I told her by the library,
“I just feel that it’s right,” and without any fright,
I asked her to marry me.
She’s only eighteen, and what a bride she’ll be.
“The wedding’s next week!” we announce.
It’s truth I’ve been told, “Don’t let them get old,
Or they’ll wise up before you can pounce.”
The RM
From foreign lands and cities grand,
I return home, glory bound.
With honor pristine, and conscience clean,
I hunt, my prize to be found.
I served honorably and that makes me,
A bachelor, of grandest sort.
Which is lucky for me; I must hunt with speed.
(It’s been 3 weeks since my final report.)
The Prez told me, “After you’re released,
Go out and find a wife.”
So I search young and old, for a girl I can mold,
To serve me throughout life.
Freshmen, I find, are the most malleable kind.
Their minds too young and naive,
To realize that I whisper sweet lies.
Upon my cheap words they’ll believe.
I met her there, on Brigham Square.
I told her by the library,
“I just feel that it’s right,” and without any fright,
I asked her to marry me.
She’s only eighteen, and what a bride she’ll be.
“The wedding’s next week!” we announce.
It’s truth I’ve been told, “Don’t let them get old,
Or they’ll wise up before you can pounce.”
A whole bunch of spontaneous rubbish and incoherant rambling
Alright, so I haven't done this very much, and I'd like to blame it on writer's block, when in reality, I know there is a deeper issue at hand. I think I'm really just afraid that if I began to take this writing thing seriously, I'd write something absolutely horrible and then I'd have to face up to the cold typed-up proof that I am artistically, rhetorically, and stylistically challenged in every way, shape, and form. In cruel irony, my own clumsily written words would stare out at me from my computer screen and in their own silent way, spell out yet another failed endeavor at greatness. Art, dance, music and their required muses have all abandoned me in the past. I'm afraid to shine a light in on the cob-webbed corner of my mind's attic that I've reserved for writing. If I should find it empty and wanting, what is left for me, but a mere appreciation and meloncholy yearning for the humanities? It's not enough for me to just appreciate; to sit in the audience and through some strange osmosis, soak in the bohemian spirit. It is not enough. I need to create it, find it, feel it within myself.
My hands are fevered, but my fingertips are cold to the touch.
I heard a quote today that went a little something like this: "Good writing is produced when the walls of safety are broken down."
But it's so easy to play it safe. There are so many things I fear. As previously mentioned, and most of all, I fear failure. Failed genius. We can't all be a Wordsworth, an Eliot, a Keats, or an Orwell. If everyone were geniuses, where would the novelty lie? And if that is true, then is there shame in normality? Is it ok to just be a Mather? Sometimes my understanding is not crystalline, and my memory often fails me. Is that alright? Is it enough to be satisfied with the alotted amount of brains I have been given? I am who I am, and I should be content and settled with that idea, because I really am quite fond of my life and what I've done with it so far. But is it enough? I can't help but want to fill the shoes of the prolific writers mentioned above. I am man, afterall, and as such I strive to improve myself, even to perfection. But where does one draw the line between the realistic and idealstic ambitions that beset our minds. Although I have many fears regarding this complex issue, my biggest fear is this: What if my ambitions exceed my abilities?
Why do I write in the first place? Certainly it's not to be well read, as most of my writing is private, with small exceptions, including this blog (scary). But if anyone has read to this point of my lengthy ramblings, they are either madly sticken with love for me or are waiting out an unfortunate case of insomnia. If it is the latter, may I recommend, dear reader, briefly jotting down whatever troubles your mind in a journal, drinking a tall glass of milk, and then settling into bed, leaving all your worries in your journal until the morning. Sleep will come and the you won't need to read my ramblings any further.
Oh, tangents-another great downfall.
So why do I write?
I should be writing for myself, as if there was no one else in the world who was going to be sifting through the complexities of my exposed mind. But I do write for others. I write for all those in academia, stretching my neck out and balancing on my tippy-toes, hoping to measure up to their prestigious expectations of excellence and brilliance. I write for my family, hoping to stand out against the backdrop of their loud talents, hoping to find my own individuality, hoping to find something I can put my personal stamp on and claim as my own. And there is this pukishly romantic side of me (that I will only claim as one of my sides, and not fully as myself) that writes for him. Who is he? The name is irrelevant, because it changes from year to year. Call him a muse. Call him a catalyst. Call him Dick, Mark, or John. It doesn't matter. He's more of an idea than a man. He's the one who, unlike you, my poor insomniactic reader, is madly sticken with love for me. It's true. Even at this very moment he is falling in love with each nonsensical sentence streaming from my fingertips, each misplaced semi-colon, each wanting attempt at rhetoric.
I write for him, and I write for them, but who are they and is it enough?
Is it enough? I'm not so sure.
I have decided to start something new and uncomfortable. I am breaking my carefully built walls of safety down, brick by brick, word by word, and I am now writing for me.
Just for me.
So do not be alarmed, offended, or hurt, dear reader, if I do not address you all too often in the future. Any further references made to a crazy insomniac will be directed soley to myself. Please do not think this too selfish. But I'm writing for me now, and not for you.
Perhaps when I have mastered writing for myself, I can then write something truly useful for others, and by doing so, realize my own unique inner-genius. I gather that I won't find a Coleridge or a Dickensen by any means, large or small. But I hope to find a Mather who is no longer afraid to mark her work with her name, a Mather who is proud to be just that-Evelyn Mather.
My hands are fevered, but my fingertips are cold to the touch.
I heard a quote today that went a little something like this: "Good writing is produced when the walls of safety are broken down."
But it's so easy to play it safe. There are so many things I fear. As previously mentioned, and most of all, I fear failure. Failed genius. We can't all be a Wordsworth, an Eliot, a Keats, or an Orwell. If everyone were geniuses, where would the novelty lie? And if that is true, then is there shame in normality? Is it ok to just be a Mather? Sometimes my understanding is not crystalline, and my memory often fails me. Is that alright? Is it enough to be satisfied with the alotted amount of brains I have been given? I am who I am, and I should be content and settled with that idea, because I really am quite fond of my life and what I've done with it so far. But is it enough? I can't help but want to fill the shoes of the prolific writers mentioned above. I am man, afterall, and as such I strive to improve myself, even to perfection. But where does one draw the line between the realistic and idealstic ambitions that beset our minds. Although I have many fears regarding this complex issue, my biggest fear is this: What if my ambitions exceed my abilities?
Why do I write in the first place? Certainly it's not to be well read, as most of my writing is private, with small exceptions, including this blog (scary). But if anyone has read to this point of my lengthy ramblings, they are either madly sticken with love for me or are waiting out an unfortunate case of insomnia. If it is the latter, may I recommend, dear reader, briefly jotting down whatever troubles your mind in a journal, drinking a tall glass of milk, and then settling into bed, leaving all your worries in your journal until the morning. Sleep will come and the you won't need to read my ramblings any further.
Oh, tangents-another great downfall.
So why do I write?
I should be writing for myself, as if there was no one else in the world who was going to be sifting through the complexities of my exposed mind. But I do write for others. I write for all those in academia, stretching my neck out and balancing on my tippy-toes, hoping to measure up to their prestigious expectations of excellence and brilliance. I write for my family, hoping to stand out against the backdrop of their loud talents, hoping to find my own individuality, hoping to find something I can put my personal stamp on and claim as my own. And there is this pukishly romantic side of me (that I will only claim as one of my sides, and not fully as myself) that writes for him. Who is he? The name is irrelevant, because it changes from year to year. Call him a muse. Call him a catalyst. Call him Dick, Mark, or John. It doesn't matter. He's more of an idea than a man. He's the one who, unlike you, my poor insomniactic reader, is madly sticken with love for me. It's true. Even at this very moment he is falling in love with each nonsensical sentence streaming from my fingertips, each misplaced semi-colon, each wanting attempt at rhetoric.
I write for him, and I write for them, but who are they and is it enough?
Is it enough? I'm not so sure.
I have decided to start something new and uncomfortable. I am breaking my carefully built walls of safety down, brick by brick, word by word, and I am now writing for me.
Just for me.
So do not be alarmed, offended, or hurt, dear reader, if I do not address you all too often in the future. Any further references made to a crazy insomniac will be directed soley to myself. Please do not think this too selfish. But I'm writing for me now, and not for you.
Perhaps when I have mastered writing for myself, I can then write something truly useful for others, and by doing so, realize my own unique inner-genius. I gather that I won't find a Coleridge or a Dickensen by any means, large or small. But I hope to find a Mather who is no longer afraid to mark her work with her name, a Mather who is proud to be just that-Evelyn Mather.
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