Results of Ruminations

Attendant to being an English major is the assumption that you have to like William Shakespeare's stuff. It draws an interesting line of conformity: you can be counter-culture conveniently by disliking the Bard or you can be part of the establishment and, like a tool , enjoy his works. (There is a third option, one of liking the works but distrusting the source, but this isn't where antistratfordianism really came into my perception.) I think this assumption is fair, though perhaps over-worked. In my (limited) experience, Shakespeare didn't infuse a lot of my courses, which were, for the most part, concerned with other avenues of literature. I don't remember him creeping into conversations, being used as a comparison to other texts, or passing by, like streak of light, to illuminate other texts. Even my British Lit classes (easily my preferred courses; American literature tends to leave me a little cold) skirted about him. I think this was done as deference to their ...

I saw the movie Anonymous  last night. I'm sure the Internet has sounded off all over this thing, but, as an unabashed Bardolator, I feel like I ought to put down my thoughts. The movie has to be judged in two ways, and neither has anything to do with the other. On the one hand, it is a film--a piece of entertainment and fiction--and ought to be graded and regarded as such. On the other hand, it is a dramatized posit of a hare-brained (pun intended: Shakespeare coined that phrase) conspiracy that has real world parallels. The Film As a film, I liked it well enough. Then again, I like most every film I watch, as I love being able to relax and appreciate the entertainment, so that isn't really a glowing commendation. There were some problems with the acting--the young Queen Elizabeth, in particular, really bothered me. So did the Earl of Essex. There's a way to shout emotionally and there's a way to sound like a moron with a loud voice. Much like the Queen in Snow W...

My main reason for writing a blog came out of wanting to discuss MGS2 in a defensive, vindicating light. Really, that was all. I can't really see a reason for writing anything else, what with much more interesting things out there, and since I can't write anymore (at least, that's what it feels like), it seems foolish to even try--particularly in a forum of instantly published potential embarrassment like the Internet manages to provide so readily. But here I am anyway, pretending to write, pretending to be profound. My class is really cool. I have 21 kids, which is just right for me. I have their names memorized, I know whom I'm worried about, and we're finishing up Beowulf on Thursday next. The school is fun, small, and I have a job satisfaction level that I've never felt before. I finally feel like a contributing member of society, rather than a warm body cog that is adept at mediocrity. One of the saddest, most frustrating parts about me, though, is that I ...