DIY History | Transcribe | Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries | Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

Page 035

53. The days which followed in quick-time were crammed with lecture and laboratory hours. And since I was taking art at last - heavenly thought! - the afternoons were very happily taken up with this life-long dream. There was oh, so little time left over for study. An hour here; an hour there, and that was all. Even so it was never possible for me to arise early for study, burn the proverbial "midnight oil" or pour over books at night. I invariably folded up with the evening, completely tired as I always was; and fell asleep trying to prepare the lessons of tomorrow. It is interesting to note in this connection, the entries in a diary kept spasmodically during that freshman year. A single impression is gained from an inspection of its pages - a feeling of extreme weariness. For again and again, day following day; the one notation is unconsciously but faithfully reiterated, "I am so tired tonight - so weary - so exhausted". Contradictory as it ay seem I think that I must have been born with the great fatigue of which I have so constantly complained these later years. And yet there seemed to be an over-abundance of nervous energy, vivacity and a zest and enthusiasm

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53. The days which followed in quick-time were crammed with lecture and laboratory hours. And since I was taking art at last - heavenly thought! - the afternoons were very happily taken up with this life-long dream. There was oh, so little time left over for study. An hour here; an hour there, and that was all. Even so it was never possible for me to arise early for study, burn the proverbial "midnight oil" or pour over books at night. I invariably folded up with the evening, completely tired as I always was; and fell asleep trying to prepare the lessons of tomorrow. It is interesting to note in this connection, the entries in a diary kept spasmodically during that freshman year. A single impression is gained from an inspection of its pages - a feeling of extreme weariness. For again and again, day following day; the one notation is unconsciously but faithfully reiterated, "I am so tired tonight - so weary - so exhausted". Contradictory as it ay seem I think that I must have been born with the great fatigue of which I have so constantly complained these later years. And yet there seemed to be an over-abundance of nervous energy, vivacity and a zest and enthusiasm