Welcome to my midlife crisis. I’m a longtime Shakespeare lecturer who's taken a break from teaching to do what I’ve always wanted to do but never made time for: writing. I hope these little essays will help me develop the discipline to eventually compose something of genuine merit and substance.* In the meantime, they will at least curb my tendency to over-post on Facebook.
I knew “writing about whatever I want” would feel self-indulgent; I didn’t expect it would feel so utterly irresponsible. But that’s the climate we’re living in right now. I understand the instinct to focus all of one's waking energy on digging in and holding our ground and fighting the good fight and all of the other battle clichés. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it does sometimes feel as if we’re at war, or nearing one. But I hope my friends will forgive me the indulgence of writing “for fun” about things mundane and philosophical, silly and nostalgic. I’ll strap on my armor when the time comes. I just need to build some muscle first.
*Yeah, it’s only the intro and I’ve already split an infinitive. This clearly has disaster written all over it.
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