Such stuff dreams are made on

I would give you bonus points for getting the reference in the title, but I'm about to talk about where it comes from, so it would sort of be cheating.

During my four years of high school, I was forced to memorize three different Shakespearean soliloquies: Freshman year- Cassius and the whole "Friends, Romans, Countrymen," bit, Junior year-- Lady Macbeth goes all "Tomorrow, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow," and then Senior year, Prospero laments with the "Such stuff dreams are made on" speech.

As I sat in English today, we started on Virginia Woolf's "Orlando," and I smiled inwardly at the memory of immediately switching out of a "Madness in Literature" course freshman year. On the first day, the professor, who was the wife of the professor I thought I was going to have, talked about her self for about 45 minutes and spent the last 30 going over the syllabus. First up, the Baccache. Then? King Lear! Followed by a little Nietzsche, and coming up the rear with "Mrs. Dalloway."

I literally ran from that classroom like it was on fire and switched out immediately.

Now, over the years I have been forced to read enough Hemingway that I have overcome my initial dislike of his works, and dare I say it, I actually have grown to like his writing quite a bit.

See, that doesn't work with everything, though.
2003 -"Cesar" - hated it.
2006- "Macbeth"- loved playing dress-up in Huggard's class, but ultimately hated it.
2006- "Othello"- hated it
2007- "The Tempest"- hated it

I do not care if that makes me intrinsically a piece of trash, but I can't help it. I have never, and will never, like anything ol' Willy turned out.

Which brings me to another little conversation that, if you don't grimace from it, you'll at least have to smile a little.

I met this guy a few months back, and as we talked about our schooling over the years, he said that his senior year of college was the most difficult of his life, and that when it was finally over, he was left reeling. He said he felt so intellectually stimulated still that he went to a bookstore and purchased the complete works of William Shakespeare and decided to read them on his own.

While I reacted as though I was mildly impressed, I felt as though I should physically cover my mouth to make sure my horror didn't spew all over him. I guess reading the collective works of William Shakespeare through one's own volition is objectively impressive, but, uh, subjectively?

Yeah. I should have known then it was not going to work. Honestly, I would have been more impressed if he told me he ran out and purchased the collective works of Steven King. Now that guy knows how to spin a tale.

Figure 1: I guess not all Shakespeare is bad:

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.