i am extremely tired. i am extremely stressed. i super do not want to write my mock trial questions right now, (we're up against Judge Memorial tomorrow) and I super do not want to practice my knife cuts right now (state Pro-Start is on Thursday). pretty much, i want to go eat some yaki soba at Wagamama's, spend a few hours in the NatGal, and go see Les Mis on the West End. THAT would be delightful. however, i need to start delighting in my life in Provo. I'm trying, i promise.
I'm the blog boss. Keep that in mind. Also, rules are made to be broken. For that reason, I'm writing many (belated) posts in one day. I have good reason, Wednesday was Laurel's Night and it was very fun. We ate tortellini, we played What If, we had a decent turn-out. It was shaping up to be a great night. Then we had this scheme: what if we go steal the cookies from Priest's Night down the street? Good plan right? We sneaked down, took their cookies and left our what ifs in place of the cookies. Then, Brother Cochran (new public enemy #1) snitched on us. We sprinted into Catie's house and barricaded ourselves. Soon, we found ourselves under siege. In my defense, my strategy was to ignore the boys, start one of our films and forget about all of this business until we next saw them. But no, retaliation was on the agenda for the day... which boiled down to us losing. They raided our fort. Which of course meant we had to go down to get our stuff back... it lasted a very long time. Finally, things were resolved with a treaty between Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill and Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo (for full disclosure on who was who, just ask). But by then it was too late to start a film which meant that we had brief "girl-talk". Yes, life is now very much like WWII, don't worry, as I kept reminding the boys--the Allies win. This is all beside the point. 1. Leeds Castle The volcano day trip. We only got to go because of Eyjafjallajökull. Yet I another reason I love this blessed volcano. This was a very beautiful country castle estate. We were even there for the tulip festival which was incredible.
2. The Beatles Maybe cliche. But I would argue that everything in the last 50 years branches from this band. Everyone either loves the Beatles or hates the Beatles and willfully tries to avoid them. Can the latter people really not see that trying not to be like the Beatles is still the Beatles' influence? At any rate, I love them. I loved Liverpool 30% because of them. They're swell.
and my endorsement of iTunes... also swell
3. Read more. Yet another list, because hey, why not?? I used to read all the time. Seriously a book a day. I never read anymore. Not even for school because we spend practically a term per novel. It's a problem. Luckily my frenemies at the College Board have my back, with this list.
[if you can read this, it means Leeds pictures are on the way, I've been struggling uploading photos. check back!]
Exactly one year ago today I was counting down the remaining ten days until the best six months of my life. What may you ask am I doing with my life now? Living in the past.
This is a thing I never wanted to become. It's true that my style is very vintage/retro but I also spruced it up ala Will Robinson/Walt Disney
"We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." --Walt Disney
I digress. The point is, I want to live for myself for now as well as learning from and LOVING the past. For that reason, for the next ten days I will share a favorite London place, a different British band/that I feel like sharing (it's up to me, I am the blog boss after all), and something I aspire to do by next year.
1. Kew Gardens The flower fairy-tale land where all of my childhood fantasies were sub-consciously set. I went my last week in London and would LOVE to go back. It was also a highlight because my camera died which meant I got to use Dad's Nikon. I covet this camera....don't tell the prophet on me.
Nikon D7000
I took a few photos...
Great place. 2. Flogging Molly [because I really want to put them on this list, we're pretending their from Northern Ireland] I think they're honestly just on here because it took most of my life before I knew what flogging was. Or why they were flogging Molly. To me that's a good enough reason. Also, I could do witty punny things with their name. I also love any singer who doesn't try to disguise his accent. And I love the film P.S. I Love You. And, I love this song:
and finally... 3. THE MOVIE LIST I will watch every movie on this list and (so I feel like this is a somewhat productive goal) write a critical analysis of each. I'm also giving myself more than a year on this one. I can do this because I am the blog boss as you may recall. ten...
Recently, it was brought to my attention by a certain neighbor from across the street (Miriam) that I don't spend nearly enough time thinking about really important things. I was therefore prompted to ponder some deep issues in the only form I know how. I reviewed the notes I took in AP European History about the major thinkers of the Enlightenment. I've always been rather partial to Descartes--his ideas are so beautifully simple. I know I exist, so I must, why does it matter what anyone else thinks? In all honesty, I never question whether or not I exist, but I find hope trying to discover beautifully simple things in the world. I set out on this whole blogging expedition with a creed, to find things I LOVE and write about them. I intend fully to resume blogging about things I love, and also, to record somehow the beautifully simple things I find in my day to day life.
1: Lotus Garden on Center Street. Something about Chinese food seems to melt troubles away and for that I am eternally grateful.
2: Christmas Break whoever planned a relaxation break in the middle of the school year was inspired of God.
3: The change in seasons. Knowing that the icy splendor of winter gives way to rebirth in the spring which falls to the sweltering romance of summer which falls into a bitter-sweet autumn.
Seeing as I am the world's greatest and most consistent blogger i felt like I would post today. Mostly because, I've lately found a word to describe how I feel right now.
BURNED-OUT.
Okay so that's two words, but there's a hyphen. I am tired of life, everything feels so extremely mundane. I wake up tired, I go to sleep tired, I spend the whole day tired. My legs feel like lead half the time and jelly the rest. Sometimes I contemplate the pros and cons of just amputating my legs. Rationality always wins out, don't worry. The important thing is that even though I'm so tired, I really do love my life. It's true that the solution to all of my problems right now is probably dropping out and spending my energy becoming a trophy-wife, but I've always been a believer in the journey so I guess I can graduate from high school before marrying for wealth. All of my complaining likely poses this question:
why exactly do you love life right now?
Because: I have great friends. Crazy nights where you go to the mall dressed in unitards and feather boas. I love my family. My family loves me (usually). I believe in Christmas miracles. I'm on the culinary team at my high school.
In retrospect, it seems like a no-brainer that I'd get into foods, but believe me, it was a little surprising for me. When I was little, I would watch Food Network everyday and I would plan out recipes I would make on Iron Chef. Now I actually get to do just that and it just makes me happy. I love pro-start, so much that it may prompt me to post more often than every six months. I'll leave with just one thought: Brighton, watch out. Because we're going to Kansas City where everything is up-to-date.
That is, unless Kansas City decides to burn down. Seeing as I spend the better part of my life trying to avoid cliches I refuse to write some long post about how I remember having stake conference in the Old Provo Tabernacle, how I felt the spirit so strongly there. How I felt like my childhood memories were being burnt up. In perfect honesty-- I didn't care for those reasons.
"frankly my dear, I don't give a damn"
I care because it was a B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. building. I care because it was so old. I care because we can rebuild an exact replica that will never be as beautiful. I care because there are people in the world who say
"it's good that it burnt down because it was so old"
I care, because that statement characterizes the thing I don't like about Americans. I HATE the idea that things should be torn down when they're old because we could put something newer in their place. It's old so we SHOULDN'T put something else in it's place.
THE IDEAL
Speaking of London. It's burning. Again. I see nothing wrong with speaking up for your beliefs. I have absolutely nothing against protests. But whatever happened to Ghandi? Martin Luther King Jr.? What have they come to represent these days? Nothing. It appears as though a peaceful protest has turned into a true oxymoron.
Since the whole world is on fire I'll end with a listing of "fire" songs to get you in the arsonry mood.
Disco Inferno--The Trammps Your Ex-Lover is Dead--Stars Firework--Katy Perry Fire Burning--Sean Kingston Ring of Fire-- Johnny Cash, Adam Lambert, or Joaquin Phoenix versions Slow Dancing in a Burning Room--John Mayer The Unforgettable Fire--U2 Burnin' Up--Jonas Brothers Black Burning Heart--Keane St. Elmo's Fire (Man In Motion)--John Parr Playing With Fire--Brandon Flowers Fire with Fire--Scissor Sisters California's Burning--Augustana Fire--Augustana Fire & Rain--Mat Kearney Crossfire--Brandon Flowers Burning Down the House--Talking Heads Fire and Rain--James Taylor
This is belated. 14 days after the fact is little late for a welcome home post. It's even later if you consider I haven't blogged since Edinburgh. But the amount of time I've been home does NOT lessen my joy to be back. I love London. Maybe more than Provo. Definitely more than life itself. But not more than I LOVE my friends, my own bed, my cats, my house, my home, my country, my closet, all my favorite restaurants, and did I mention my family??
The first thing we did in Utah? See Alyssa Weist, what else? Her whole family was waiting for her brother to get back from his mission when we came down the escalator at SLC International Airport. Having a welcome party? Greatest feeling ever.
The next thing we did in Utah? JCW's of course. I'd been having dreams about these cheeseburgers for about six months and I almost cried when I tasted my first bite of grilled perfection. I also almost cried when Charlotte informed me that due to the new health plan, America outlawed unlimited refills. NOT FUNNY CHAR!
I also almost cried when we pulled up to my house to see a car parked out front. I love Paige Kate Handley. And Tickle-Me-Elmo's. I finally possess one now which added to the teary eyes for sure. Staying up to talk to Paige, Eric, BJ, and Davis was great except it felt like 4 a.m. which wasn't too great.
I loved waking up the next morning in my own bed and feeling like I was finally back where I belonged. I loved seeing everyone AGAIN on Saturday night and my first date... and I love Eliza Ringer and that she can somehow hit the sweep with her bowling ball TWICE.
Mostly I loved traveling with my mom. The whole thing felt reminiscent of our October 2010 Disneyland vacation. A.K.A. the funnest trip of my life. We also did our best to rewrite Party in the U.S.A. (our fave song)
I hopped off the plane at JFK with my mom and her cardigan....
I'll spare you the rest..
This concludes my post. For the sake of length I will attempt to keep my posts to a minimum. Please scroll up for a continuation of my life back in the U.S. of A.
Scotland. In case there was any doubt I am not Irish. I am Scottish, and after this week I am proud to proclaim--it in true Scottish fashion. Something about Edinburgh had an air of effortless cool. My Scot fest started with Peter Pan at the Barbican and continued with the Edinburgh trip. After a 4 hour train ride we checked into our hostel then went to the writer's museum to study up on the three Scottish greats: Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson.
Then came the castle:
I thought this castle was really interesting but I won't pretend that I loved it. I'm glad I saw it, but before too long and after too many bagpipe anthems I was set to move on. We had really good Italian at a place called La Favorita before exhaustedly climbing into our bunks for a semi-restless sleep. The next morning felt much like the day before, and much like every day since January. My feet were tired and callused. I had to consciously make my legs climb down the ladder and into the shower. I thought, well I'll nap later, but this nap never came. I'm not complaining, what is tiredness compared to Europe? An hour by train found us in Stirling to reconnect with our roots:
Once upon a time there was a man named John Macfarlane, who lived in Stirling, Scotland. Before too long he died leaving behind his wife and three children and was buried in Holy Rood churchyard. His wife, her family, and his children converted to the Mormon church and migrated to Utah. His oldest son John, who adopted the middle name Menzies, married three wives. He and his wives moved to Chihuahua, Mexico to avoid persecution and eventually had a mess of children, the very youngest of which was Herbert Adams Macfarlane. Who had a son named John Ralph Macfarlane. Who had a son named Roger Thomas Macfarlane. Who had a daughter named Caroline Elizabeth....who begat... I think I've traced it enough. It was great to be somewhere where I know my family once was, I wonder if someday my great-great-great grandchildren will take a day trip wherever to see my grave? The enormity is hard to grasp.
Apart from root finding, Stirling is an amazing place. Ever heard of William Wallace and a little battle at Stirling Bridge? What about Robert de Bruce and Bannockburn? It's all one and the same. We saw the castle and the room in the castle where James I of England and VI of Scotland was born. We climbed the 246 steps to the top of the National William Wallace (Braveheart) Monument. I felt freer and more proud to be Scottish because of it.
The train ride back was full of agonizing hunger leading to Wannaburger. These were the best burgers in Britain. Large, tasty, and the ever elusive satisfying--they had it all. If they were a boy I would marry them, they were that perfect. It was good that they were filling because Leslie and I headed from dinner to our Ghost Tour. Our tour guide was Faith and she radiating creep-factor. Our tour had the perfect balance of real terror and humor. I'm not sure how I convinced Les to do a ghost walk with me, but we both had a really fun time. The vaults under the city were super creepy and so were the stories, but it was very fun to watch Faith interact with the 15 English rugby players in our group.
The next morning was very similar to the two days prior until I looked out the window. The sky which had been blue splotched with patches of grey the day before had been blanketed by a looming grey cloud. What had once been streaks of sunlight hitting our window were now streams of rain. I remembered that I was in Edinburgh and didn't let it hinder my day as I walked from the hostel to the Scottish National Gallery and then to Scottish Parliament.
I've always felt as though Scotland is rather like a toy government. The English let them have their Stone of Destiny, they have their own currency (which is really like Monopoly money that people accept so it counts as having a value), and they have their own little parliament. This feeling was heightened as I walked through the Scottish Parliament building, especially in the main room debate room of Parliament because it really did feel like a play government. Which is really quite sad to think about--that this nation was once a great threat to England and now it's just like a doll's country.
We left parliament to visit Chocolatesoup a great place where we got drinks and sundaes. Leslie and I bought t-shirts from a stand out front before we headed to the Scottish Museum, there were some seriously cool and seriously old things there. Our train ride home was filled with a three hour tournament of family Pounce which included an offer to sing 'Love at Home' to us.
My Scot fest ended with Macbeth at Shakespeare's Globe. I won't give a review of it here because I'm still not sure how I felt. It was entertaining and it was bloody, including writhing bloody corpses amongst the groundlings. Still, I was able to see through the gallons of red corn syrup and the torrential downpour of Macbeth's saliva on my face to fall in love. With Malcolm. The Prince of Scotland. He was beautiful, rugged, noble, brave, and Scottish. In other words, he was all I want in a man. I was in love from the first word he said in his flawless Glaswegian accent and I knew that it was meant to be. He even looked at me. The fact that he's a little old, I'll never see him again, he is unaware that we're going to be married, and the rest of the students are also in love with him are mole-hills next to the mountain that is our love. In more serious terms though, I've learned this week: 1. I find Scottish accents ridiculously appealing, as in attractive. 2. It's good to be proud of where you come from AND where you are now. So I'll end with the Macfarlane clan motto
