There is a point to this entry, I promise. But you’ll have to read through to the very end to get it.

Despite the fact that he is an anti-Stratfordian, Bob remains one of my closest friends. We had a long conversation a year or so ago in which we talked about whether it is indeed possible that Shakespeare was written by Shakespeare (or, as Bob put it, "That guy from Stratford"), or some other guy. I haven’t followed the authorship debate very closely, since there’s never really been any doubt in my mind, but it was an intriguing discussion. There are times when I am convinced that the anti-Stratfordian position is based more on jealousy than anything else; many of those who favor it seem to think that it’s impossible that someone like Shakespeare – a poor actor, not even a noble – could have written the plays that he did. Could someone who never traveled, for example, have written such a great description of the Italy of Romeo and Juliet? In my own not too humble opinion, some people figure that if they can’t do it, then no one else could ever have done so, either.

Personally, I think that there are always more geniuses than we realize, and that we frequently don’t recognize or appreciate the ones that we know.

I’m pretentious enough to say that I love Shakespeare. I don’t always understand the language, and sometimes I skim through the longer soliloquies, but I think that Shakespeare is a lot of fun. One of the funniest plays I’ve ever seen is A Comedy of Errors (done by a high school troupe in downtown Davis, and set in 1967 San Francisco); I’m always enchanted by A Midsummer Night’s Dream; frustrated by Hamlet; haunted by King Lear; and disturbingly amused by Romeo and Juliet (probably something to do with Shakespeare’s very accurate portrayal of teen angst and the too-vivid memories of my own teen angst). When I worked at the Renaissance Faire, I enjoyed acting out scenes from Shakespeare; and I loved watching scenes performed by the Reduced Shakespeare Company, who spoofed Shakespeare’s plays brilliantly. And I recently downloaded the complete Sonnets of Shakespeare onto my Palm Pilot and I browse through them when I find myself in situations where I need something to read (here’s a helpful hint, by the way: if you have downloaded good e-texts onto your Palm Pilot, you can move the stylus on the screen and look like your taking notes during a dull meeting when you’re really just re-reading a favorite story by Stephen King or H. P. Lovecraft – not that I would condone such behavior, of course).

Now, the only thing which really makes the hour-long commute to work bearable is the CD player in my new car, and the fantastic invention of audio books on CD. When I was asked what I wanted for my birthday, I said the I wanted books on CD, and that Shakespeare paraphernalia was also good. So my parents purchased for me a copy of A Winter’s Tale on CD. It’s not that easy to listen to; it’s easiest for me to understand and appreciate Shakespeare when I actually watching them performed (or watching a movie version); reading is a close second; hearing it performed without seeing what’s happening, or at least being able to read along to see what the stage directions are, is very difficult. I’ve found myself hitting the "back" button on the CD player several times to listen to a scene over again in order to understand it. I’m enjoying it, though; I’ve been working on this play on and off four a few weeks now (when I’m actually commuting to the office here in California, and not flying up to Portland) and I’m almost on the second CD.

Shakespeare inspires me. Really. I have found that reading Shakespeare – or watching a Shakespearean play or movie or even listening to one on tape or CD – helps me center and re-focus. It’s kind of like meditation. Maybe it’s because I’m concentrating on understanding the story and the language; or perhaps there really is something inspirational about the Bard.

I promised you a point, and here it is. I’ve written before about looking around the world to see what’s fascinating and interesting and even magical, like the bearded dragon in the pharmacy. One of the ways that Shakespeare excelled, I think, was in showing us what can be fascinating, interesting, and magical about humanity. Many of Shakespeare’s plays remind us that while human beings can be base and cruel, they can frequently be noble and heroic. Between that and the bearded dragon, there is a lot in this world to get excited about. Keep your eyes open, and be willing to learn instead of trying to control the world; most misery, I think, comes from frustration that the world is not meeting your expectations. But if you are willing to see what the world has to offer, things which you might never have even dreamed of, instead of narrowing your focus on what you think the world owes you, you’ll probably find yourself much better off.

It’s a lesson that I desperately need to learn.

Does this have anything at all to do with Shakespeare, or my friend Bob and his anti-Stratfordian views? Probably not. But that’s one of the great things about an on-line journal: the only person you really have to make sense to is yourself.