To blog or not to blog



To blog, or not to blog; that is the question.

Whether ‘tis nobler to make readers suffer

These posts and arouse outrageous mention

In the comments section and cause trouble,

Or opposing, end this scrawl today, to write

No more; and by to write to say I end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks

My posts are heir to, ‘tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d …

As you can see, I write a lot like Shakespeare, especially the parts that are his very own words, which I will put back later. I promise. I took them off an obscure website, so I don’t think anyone will notice. And no, I’m not plagiarizing; I’m merely borrowing. I learned that from my students, who often borrow entire essays.

In case you haven’t noticed (because you can rarely make it through my posts, and believe me I empathize: it’s hard for me as well), I have a lot in common with Shakespeare.

• He was born brilliant, and I was also born.

• We both had early lives.

• He managed to write 30+ plays (comedies, tragedies, and romances) and about 154 sonnets; I manage to write a now weekly blog.

• He liked hoop earrings, and I do too.

• He was a bard; I have been barred (due to excessive punning).

• He was from Avon; I have used Avon. *

• He was buried after his death, something I am planning myself. Not the death, the sequence of events: death, then burial.

Eerie, isn’t it? If I didn’t know better (and I rarely do), we could be twins, separated merely by talent, gender, legacy, facial hair, and about 450 years.

*Hi Miss Avon Representative: If you would like to give me free beauty products because I inadvertently advertised for you on my blog by using your company’s name, please feel free. I believe your products will make me look young and beautiful again. I also believe in unicorns. Just ring the bell.

If you are one of those I-can’t-look-away-from-this-train-wreck kind of reader and happen to have arrived here at the second ending of this post, both relieved and horrified, go here to see a 1960s “Ding Dong, Avon calling” commercial.




If you are an American, I hope you enjoyed your Thanksgiving spread. If you’re like me (and if you are, I hope you are seeing a therapist) you will carry memories of it in your hips and thighs for months to come.



My holiday spread begins at Thanksgiving and usually ends around Labor Day when I overindulge for the very last time this year (honest!) because I believe in moderation in all things. I also believe that my body’s remembrance of meals past enlarges me and makes me a bigger person, so I’m conflicted.



Of course, not everyone celebrates when you begin spreading, especially if you are sitting next to them on an airplane. These whiners tend to be the same people who object to using “them” with the antecedent “everyone” in that last sentence. I should know because I object as well. But only if I discover the usage in a student’s paper. In my own writing, in order to avoid using the awkward “him or her” or wasting time rewriting the sentence with a plural subject, I pull out my Shakespeare card and say, “I follow my Will.” He did, as you know, write the lines, “There’s not a man I meet but doth salute/As if I were their well-acquainted friend.” If the objector continues to complain, I pull out my failed poet card, put it next to Shakespeare’s, and say, “Bards of a feather flock together.” That rarely convinces anyone, but I take my pleasures where I can.



If you skipped that last paragraph, I congratulate you on your astuteness. It has little relevance to the purported point of this post. If you didn’t skip that last paragraph, well, better luck next time.



Now, where were we? (I hate it when I lose my spread of thought.)



Holiday spread happens, as does secondhand holiday spread (the encroachment of your spread into other people’s space.) This year show your love by giving Spanx.



Happy Spanxgiving!



I borrowed this picture from the official Spanx website ( If you Spanx me, I promise not to do it again.