Shakespearean Convert

My past two days have been filled with Shakespeare.  Normally, or, I should say, back at school, I would not be thrilled about this fact.  I would probably moan and whine about it enough that that would be quite obvious.  So lets get some of the moaning and whining out before I explain my real reason for writing about a man I was formerly indifferent to.
I've never been a Shakespeare kind of girl.  Romeo and Juliet is beautiful and I cannot deny the talent and feeling that was put into it.  But it is the epitome of mush and gush as far as my mind is concerned, second only in mushy-factor to the The Notebook. (I love the movie, can't stand the book--please don't get me started.) Reading Macbeth in seventh grade was likewise terrible, mostly because of my complete inability to understand the language.  I would undoubtedly end up reading the translated text, and that just isn't the same.  I have been told many a time that reading Shakespeare and watching Shakespeare preformed are two completely different experiences, the later being worth your while, and the former being...well...not. I didn't believe it until last night. (Though I often wondered why my teachers would say this, then turn around and proceed to assign whole acts to be read for class the next day.)
Last night our whole group of 38 students lined up outside the Globe theater, tickets in hand, to be groundlings at Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Winsdor.  I will admit, I wasn't thrilled at the idea of standing for three hours with nothing but a stage to lean on and a Shakespearean play to entertain me.  I waited, quite afraid that I would again get lost in trying to decipher the Olde English, and become literally bored to sleep.  (I am not proud of this, nor my inability to appreciate Shakespeare as he deserves, but, nonetheless, there it is.)  But as the gates opened and the attendees were ushered in, I found myself getting a bit excited, even if it was only because I was standing at the world-famous Globe theater in London, England, about to see a play and walk on a replica that had successfully traveled through time and history.  The play began, and, I swear, I didn't mind standing for the required amount of time--it was not a burden, it was fun.  I became engaged in the dynamics of the play, eager to see the plot thicken and resolve itself, enjoying every minute of it.  I danced to the music and song at the end scene and talked about it incessantly on the tube ride home--from St. Paul's to Notting Hill Gate.
Now  I understand my teachers when they tell me I have to watch Shakespeare to get the full effect of it, the difference real actors and costumes and emotion, instead of the imaginary ones inside your head, make is remarkable, and transforming--I have a new found respect for Shakespeare and the imagination and skill that created his plays, though I still vow to never read one again, unless forced.  I will watch them from now on, as they were intended to be experienced.
So, today, when we took a day trip to Stratford Upon Avon, Shakespeare's countryside hometown, and visited five different sites associated with him and his life there, I appreciated them.  And while I'm positive I would have appreciated the homes and buildings for their historical value alone had I not been to the Globe Theater the night before, I had the blessing to be able to love them because Shakespeare had been there, and had written his touching tragedies and witty comedies at these vary locations.  For a little while I got be a part of the places that shaped this literary genius, even if just for a second of insignificant time, my footsteps are still there, and always will be. 
The lush green foliage of the English countryside always reminds of home in Connecticut, and the beautiful greens of nature that should be turning vibrant colors any week now.  The "ooooo"s and "ahhh"s of the Utah kids at the beauty of  the nature, at all the trees and shrubs and just the general color green that is plastered everywhere the eye can see makes me laugh, but also makes me feel lucky and blessed to have grown up in an area of the world where those are scenes from everyday life.  People vacation to the countryside of England for the beauty of the earth, but I don't have to, I can go home to get it. And that's even better.

Hello, Hello

So, I've never done this before, and my lack of writing in my journal over the summer months is a testament to the concern that I wouldn't be able to maintain a blog. But I have broken down, I have succumbed to the peer pressure, if you will, because everyone around me has a blog, and I have finally been persuaded by the abundance to start my very own.
I won't write everything here, I have a journal for that (which I have been writing in on a regular basis, thank you very much.) And as much as I probably love all of you that are reading this, because, let's face it, who wants to read about my life unless you are in someway significantly connected to me, I don't want you to know everything, nor would you want to.  So there will be many things that will find their way only to my journal, reserved for it pages for safe keeping.  Call me a romantic, but there's something so appealing about a person's real handwriting on paper in a bound book that an internet blog can never replace.  It will never be as real, or as personal, as intimate.  That's another reason I won't share everything here, or post everyday--if only to give a reason to keep my journal. And if I write everything hear, it will turn into a journal, making keeping one superfluous and a waste of my time.
So every week, maybe more if I feel the need to write, which I often do. I think this blog will become a great outlet for that, something I've never given myself before, and something I am excited about.  It's an ideal time for me to begin, too, (or not ideal, depending upon how you look at it, because when I get home from London, what will there be to write about?!) because I will be able to write about my unique experiences and preserve my memories of London before they fade away, and hand them to you all, instead of filing them away in my journal. 
I hope that you'll find my stories and entries entertaining, or at the least they'll keep you satisfactorily updated on my life here in the UK.  I've started a month into it, so you'll have to forgive me for foregoing a few stories and jumping straight to the present, though I will probably relapse periodically and pull some of my favorite happenings out of my back pocket on a quiet day that holds no other interesting news, if you will allow me the indulgence.
I'm afraid I've got to attend to some pressing Great War and Modernism homework now, maybe even some Religion and Humanities that didn't get done for class this morning.  We'll see.
Until next time,

Carolyn