I'm to the point where I can spell iambic pentameter without looking it up. Check that off the bucket list.

I don't think I'm stupid. Maybe that's a bold statement

to be making, but I really don't consider myself an id-

iot. It is a blanket statement, though. I still can't change

the oil in my car, and would have no clue what to do 

with a flat tire. So, maybe I'm sort of stupid, though not

understanding mechanics is basically out of my hands, and

doesn't bother me all that much. When it comes to 

Shakespeare, though, I'm seriously worried. Just when 

I think I get it, just when I'm on the Antony/Octavius

 side after battle, they praise Brutus's name, and I start to 

reevaluate my life again. It's a brutal, bitter cycle. And 

now, I'm tackling this beast of a play. Is it pathetic that I 

can't do it alone? This is me, en medias res, beginning my 

play-reading ritual: following the words as Librivox recordings

read in each different character's voice in my ears, and I hurriedly 

translate Shakespearean language into dialogue I can

understand. I've never felt so dumb before. Good thing

the language and iambic pentameter are beautiful. They

make up for all of those hard words and complex metaphors.

Don't let my complaining fool you. This class is my most

favorite one, and I never want it to end. I love the stretching

I am constantly feeling, to expand my knowledge of the 

written word. Dissecting language sure is fun.

Hey, Antony & Cleopatra: 

This is the part where I make you my bitch.