I glory at the wonder of the internet. I know it is fashionable to pooh-pooh its success, how it’s turned us into a world of loafers who would rather interact virtually than actually. I know the tendency is there — I Twittered about not being able to find my favorite sweater, so I know the trivializing tendency of it all.

But I adore the fact that obsessive-compulsive Stephen Fry follows my tweets as I follow his. I love that I can talk to friends around the world in real time and not always over the phone, because I will always imagine that I am better in print than in person. I love being able to bring up images of obscure medieval things in an instant for my students who have no idea what a wimple is or a rebec. I have more publishing opportunities than ever, because I’m not snobbish about print as “the only way to go”. I get news from around the world and see films and hear music that I would never have come across before the internet. I was listening to Robyn Hitchcock sing at the Iron Horse while reading a review of Roy Blount, Jr.’s Alphabet Juice.

I love the lively interaction of languages across the globe and I revel in the ability to find cheap travel and obscure books. My mind is alive with ideas and inspiration right now. Life is good.