Me and Bill

I had forgotten how much I love Shakespeare. In the day-to-day hurry of things, I lose track. A gigantic pile of laundry doesn’t whisper to me in iamb. (Although it is, technically speaking, a tragedy.)

Then came my newest adventure in college, a survey of Shakespeare’s plays, and I have fallen in love again. Oh, how I wish people really talked like that. I wish my life had such a well-composed plot. On the other hand, I’m glad I have never known anyone who got revenge by feeding someone her own children in a pie. Ew.

My biggest hitch is the same problem I had in last semester’s English lit class – I would like to have a little peace to stew over each play, but there are these assignments that the syllabus says must be done. Here I am, pondering away like Tom Cullen (M-O-O-N, that spells Hamlet), and then I have to snap to it and write a paper. Even with a year to complete the course, I’d better get going.

All in all though, it is a wonderful problem to have: gulping Bill’s brilliant words instead of dainty nibbling.