Today I skipped lunch to go over my "Airman" draft with my professor (the one who wrote the book. Come on, you remember. Yes, that one.) He gave an awesome lecture today over the Waste Land. I feel so good when he speaks. As we went over the draft, he basically said that I'm not missing anything, but that I should add stuff to it. That's cool, I guess. But I really liked it when he liked things I said and that he had never thought of them before. Then he told me that I would make a great Yeatsian. I was so happy I just wanted to scream! See, my professor is a Modernist, although he also specializes in Queer Studies (I think he's the only one at my school who does), and absolutely loves Yeats. For him to say that I should be a Yeatsian is a HUGE compliment and an honor. As we went through my paper we started talking about other things: the US view of suicide bombers, heroic archetypes, Indo-European languages and how they have changed over time, etc. He even dropped the F-bomb a couple of times. It was great. I could just talk to him forever. He's so smart and I really feel like he understands me. I want to take Brit Lit 1 with him, so I told him that I want to request him to be my professor for section. He looked so happy and said, well Maryam you did so well in this class, I don't see why you won't do well in that one. Once again, I was beaming and didn't want to leave his desk. But alas, I had spent an entire hour talking to this great man and agreeing that he is my second favorite SMU professor of all time, although the first male professor. What a feeling!