I didn't realize until this afternoon what a bunch of geeks we -- lit people -- really are. A friend of mine hosted a Sunday brunch reunion with folks from my theory class, and I have to say it was kind of surreal and exciting and strange. Yes, a strange bubble, a haven, a culture of book enthusiasts, thinkers, and writers -- doubtless.
I had always speculated what academic faculty parties might be like: folks talking about recent books/articles they've read or published, indelibly impressing peers (and no, our shindig wasn't the kind geek fest that had participants reciting Beowulf lines in Old English); but still, in our own strange way we resemble the kind of community I imagined myself a part of, where lofty aspirations -- literary or not -- bounce off from one another, a space full of energy.
Like any brunch that serves mimosas and Italian sparkling wine, some of us had too many and was rambling on and on. Finally, I got the opportunity to talk to my theory prof in a non-academic setting, which was nice and intimate. I don't think I could have asked about her own specific work and interest during office hours, so it was a real treat to hear her so excited about a vampire course she is conceiving; heck, it was thriling just to be able to talk to her on a personal level. So at one point I mentioned how her class was so much more "ambitious" than my other classes -- I can't believe I admitted it to her -- but I guess at one point I fantasized describing how much I adored her and to her work (this is the same Dr. Ivy league I am talking about). I am certain she found it amusing -- indeed it was a compliment! -- but I was also simultaneously caught off guard. But she was there ... listening, and I wondered if being with us was a kind of nostalgic trip to the early years of graduate life, as young novices.
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