In Dedication to the Love of my Life

Oh calm down all those who know that I’m single and are suddenly severely worried you’ve missed something. No need for panicking. This love has been around for quite some time, and I’m not quite sure why I haven’t chosen to write about him before….or well not in great depth. Sure I’ve had a post or two where I’ve throw in his name, but it’s time he earned his own post. I’m talking about none other than my wonderful amazing and utterly lovable William Shakespeare.

10 Things I Hate About You fits a little too well in this respect

I have a literature professor who often refers to Emily Dickinson as solely Emily because he adores her work so much, so don’t take it as too much of an offense if I do the same for my darling Will.

Will and I were first formally introduced when I was in second grade. I had no idea how much I’d come to adore him, although I remember being interested at the time by the comical spectacle of Much Ado About Nothing. We met again in fifth grade when my school gifted and talented section put on Midsummer Night’s Dream.

But nothing could prepare me for the lifelong romance that would ensue after my first encounter with an actual text.

At fourteen I was able to travel to London for the second time in my short life. I remembered before liking it, but it was December and something about Christmas magic in the air made it all the more enchanting. And after visiting the Tower of London, some interest caught hold of me and refused to let go. And between the beauty and the history and the enchantment I found myself surrounded in, I became determined to learn more of the mysterious stories which governed this mystical land. Thus, I began reading on Richard III.

Now, besides Sir Thomas More, the most well-known account of what happened to this enigmatic king falls into the hands of my brilliant Will himself. With my obsession in mind and free-time on my hands during Christmas break, I decided to pursue the play itself to discover more. And though William makes a poor historian, he’s a genius playwright.

Many might scoff at the thought of a fourteen year old choosing to read a history play as her first Shakespeare, on her break no less. But the moment I began I knew I couldn’t stop. “Now is the winter of our discontent–” the words drew me in, created images of monstrous kings, and murderers, and innocent princes, and ghosts, and battles, and the little traditionally romantic (literary term, not in the general sense…trust me, it’s not a super romantic play), found herself engulfed in something she had trouble understanding, but nonetheless enjoyed.

Richard III was my first. And it remains a long standing favorite in the way I believe many first encounters do. It has something nostalgic about it, a little hint of the future years of joy and tears and marvel to come. I checked out movie versions, watched them multiple times, even with commentary on a few times. It wasn’t altogether surprising I wrote my senior high school thesis on the play, exploring the propaganda affects it had on historical readers and the assumptions it still causes today.

Shakespeare plays started becoming my main Christmas gift. Our festival in my local hometown does two a year during the summer, and my parents consistently would promise we could go. I began watching as many different productions as I could, and soon had set one of my first bucket-list goals of seeing all of the Shakespeare plays on a stage before my death. Thus far, I believe I’m about a quarter of the way through. And each summer I’d sit beneath the stars and greedily watch yet another of my beloved Will’s plays, and dream, and imagine the way any young person in love will.

College welcomed me to a class featuring my idol, devouring more than ten plays in the course of a semester, watching our theater company put on the witty and adored Twelfth Night. And I continued to realize that I had thoroughly and completely besworn myself to my Will, that each day he offered further enchantment, more and more material to adore and swoon over.

My final paper played an imitation game with his style, attempted to mimic the well loved hyperboles and phrases, earned a lovely comment from my professor on my talents at sounding Elizabethan. But that was no surprise considering how much I spent time with my Will, that my words might begin to sound a bit like his.

I was sorrowful as I ended the course, even more so on realizing I had to return my now much revered textbook to the renter. But to be sure my romance does not end even as this small part of life has. That is the joy of loving a man on a page, that he never leaves you, that the love is undying. Isn’t that indeed what he writes in his most famous sonnet 18:

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

And so as his sonnet lives, the love of this great man lives on with it, bits of affection and kindness and genius all tucked within the lines for me to discover each and every time I delve into the sonnets or the plays or any bit of this man’s beautiful work.

But in all seriousness I will say this, I admire greatly the genius of Shakespeare. Though I hope I don’t come off quite as obsessed as I may have jokingly suggested above, he is probably one of the greatest founders of my writing inspiration. My last finished book picked little bits of sonnet, and suggestions of King Lear, and a touch of thought on justice from Merchant of Venice, and my latest gathers a sense of destiny and fate from Macbeth. And though I may not really love the man romantically (yes let out that sigh of relief any who thought they had a crazy woman on their hands), I do love what he does on a page and hope desperately I can emulate the same laughter, tears, and thought from my own works. It’s good to have mentors in works…maybe even to an extent of feeling some sense of love.

Who do you greatly admire? Any obsession confessions anyone feels led to give? What were some early works that inspired you in writing, in life, etc? For any fellow lovers of the bard, do you have a favorite play or sonnet?

Reader Confessions Pt 2

One of my most popular posts is my Confessions of a Reader, where I delved into what issues I needed to get off my chest about how I read. But I have a few more I suppose I should talk about today because the truth is…I haven’t been much of a reader in the last few months. And so I shall regale you with my woeful tale of how I have strayed from the goodness of literature in a tale of my seven recent deadly sins of reading.

Sin #1: I started off the year great! With tons of free time before I left to study abroad I had a ridiculous goal to read a book every day! I read nine…and slowly started drifting further and further away from my goal. Soon it was a book every three days. Then one a week. And by the time I was off on study abroad I’d almost completely forgotten what I’d set out to accomplish. Summary: I set too lofty of goals, as I often do, and quickly fell short only to give up rather than choosing to revise my previous goal.

Sin #2: Studying abroad was fun of course, but it gave me a good excuse not to read. Because reading in English would completely distract me from learning French, right? And reading French is much too hard! I brought a total of one book with me. Figured I could read some ebooks on my iphone if I got truly bored. I read the one book, picked one lame free ebook and started trying to read Sherlock Holmes. And yet, without classes to get me reading literature, or a goal of some kind, I slowly slipped away from the world of reading and wasted my life on the internet instead. Summary: I allowed slothful behavior to dictate my life in the name of becoming better at French (and yet spent plenty of time on English using internet pages) and was too lazy to try reading more French books in the name of frugality and avoiding feeling overwhelmed.

Sin #3: I read one French book for my class as part of a project. I showed my professor my choice (recommended by my host mom) and she told me it was too hard. Stubbornness kicked in and I read it anyways…or rather did my best struggling all the while before reading summaries to improve my meager understanding. Summary:  Rather than taking the advice of my professor, I chose to pursue the book and in doing so over-challenged myself to an extent where I had to rely on Sparknotes rather than truly delving into the literature.

Sin #4: I picked up a few paperback books for my trip home, figured I should try to get back into reading. Should be easy right? Wrong! I had to force myself to finish most every book I had other than The Marriage Plot (a fantastic read if anyone wants a recommendation). And I did so in the name of reading. Summary: Should reading be forced? Maybe after a study abroad where I’d done none. But this will follow into sin 5.

Sin #5: I came home and read one book this summer. ONE! It was a good book, but I look over my reading list and am shocked to see the horrible results of where my sloth led. The main reason I failed is because, like with my trip home, I was trying to force myself to read what I really didn’t want to. Classics. I love good classic literature, but the problem is when it comes between playing games on the internet, or reading a book that takes time and concentration- internet wins out every time. Summary: I failed to choose books I actually really wanted to read after several months of reading nothing. This was an utter misunderstanding of how hard it would be to get back into the habit of picking up books. And thereby I did next to no reading this summer.

Sin #6: I assumed I could just jump back into school. Funny after spending months not doing any practice. But somehow I just assumed I could do it. If any professors are reading this, my apologies, but I definitely didn’t do a thorough reading of the first few weeks material. Even now it’s still a struggle sometimes. Even making myself read Jane Eyre again, my all time favorite book was hard! Summary: I may or may not have made good use of Sparknotes (after having read of course!) and definitely felt no joy reading any material for my classes the first weeks. Also, reading 150 Shakespearean sonnets after a semester of almost no reading is the worst punishment imaginable and I like Shakespeare.

Sin #7: I have begun reading Divergent series in an attempt to get back on track. Nothing wrong with reading some poorly written teen fiction of course, but the only reason I have started is because my computer is broken, and I’m left to using the school ones during the day. Hence, my start of these is simply for the fact that I am bored without internet and again not out of true love of what I have to read. Summary: If you take my computer, I’ll begin reading. Sad fact of life I suppose. I’m an internet addict who loses her reading skills due to the copious amounts of time she spends on it.

So those are my reading confessions to get off my chest and tell the world. Hoping to get back in and start working on improving my skills again, letting go of my laziness and embracing the joy of reading once more.

Anyone else want to get any confessions out there? I promise I won’t judge. Can’t really be cruel after displaying my own literary faults to the world.

Holding onto Hope for Hogwarts

My roommate’s sister got her wisdom teeth out yesterday and the subsequent effects of painkillers were hilarious, causing her to believe she was going to Hogwarts. I have now become dedicated to making sure everyone sees this video because it makes me laugh so much.

As a huge Harry Potter fan I had to share this video and the hope of that magical wizard school. Many of us stopped dreaming of getting our owl when we turned twelve. There was a sense of despair, a reality setting in. It was right in our brink of the teenage life, the time we’d be changing into adults and gradually leaving childhood fantasy behind.

But that joy that Hogwarts and Harry’s adventures can always stay with us…especially with the help of meds apparently. So I share this video to make you readers laugh and to remind you of that joy and hope of Hogwarts letters.

This was mostly for fun, but as someone who never has lost hope of finding that magic I love in fantasy books, I suppose her excitement “going to Hogwarts” really makes me happy. I remember the point where I stopped knocking on the back of wardrobes as a child realizing I’d never go to Narnia. And yet some sense of joy still lingers in me at the memory of my experiences in that world. And I have never fully lost hope that there is something greater out there.

Anyhow, as I said…mostly just me feeling a need to laugh during finals week.

What hopes and dreams did books instill in you as a kid? How anxious were you for a letter to Hogwarts?

25 Signs You’re a Book Addict

Another Pinterest finding that I couldn’t resist sharing. I think almost every one of these fits me. Which ones do you think are the best?

Horror Stories for Horror Stories

I found this amusing and thought I’d share it. Just a cute cartoon about the reality of some books transition into movies. Hope it made you smile!