Love/Hate

Remember how I have conversations with my favorite authors in my head? (Remember how that is kind of schizophrenic? Shut up!) All my literary conversating of late has been exchanged with none other than the man himself. That's right. The Bard is my new brain companion.

The thing about Shakespeare is that he is brilliant and also headache inducing. So I'm taking a class on him, and there are times when I am astounded by the brilliance of this man, like when I read the Crispian day speech from Henry V, or when I wish that Elsinore was real so I could go beg Horatio to marry me, or when I wish I was as clever and quick-witted as Beatrice. And then there are the times when I think I will put a fork in my eye* if I have to read any more footnotes and search for any more nature imagery because apparently "that is most often a significant move to represent the emotional state of the characters" or something.

Thankfully, I go to other classes too. Which means that in between Shakespeare plays I get to argue and analyze with Chopin, and Tennyson, and the Brownings, and Christina Rosetti ( who is a whole new barrel of unhealthy, by the way). And I can do all sorts of literature besides Shakespeare! My brain can rest! I can stop thinking about Caliban and trying to decide if I hate him or Prospero more!

But wait. Next week the Actors from the London Stage are coming to campus to perform The Tempest. I am required to go see it. In multiple classes. And the actors themselves are coming to do workshops on The Tempest in not just my Shakespeare class, but all of my English classes. And we are doing a bunch of assignments on The Tempest. Plural. Multiple. In every class. That's right. ALL OF THEM!

I love him. I love him. I will die if this class doesn't end soon, but I love him.
This might sound too forced to be convincing, huh? 

Also, I started another phase of  "I will drink less diet coke and be healthy." That may have been a badly timed effort, here in the yuckiest part of the semester, hence the increase of author schizophrenia.

* Parrish supporters, this one's for the good old days of fenestration and nefarious prevarication.