Meetings with Professors

I had a series of meetings with professors.  I showed up at a class I wasn't enrolled in and after the class, we went back to his office to talk over my future plans. 
He thinks I could make it into graduate school, which is one of the things I want to do with my life.  I like academic work.  Parts of it are scary, but I like reading and analyzing and talking.  I'm excited about teaching.  I don't want to teach younger people because there's a lot of hand holding involved, but the idea of teaching students who want to be there and are at least marginally interested in having conversations about art, literature and other related topics excites me.  (Maybe I don't even want to teach in the traditional sense where I lecture and students take notes, but where I encourage students to think for themselves and learn to be their own best teachers.) 
Anyway, I'm clearly getting away from the story I'm meant to be telling here. 
After that first meeting, I happened to wander down the steps of the building, and I passed an office.  Just to see what was going on, I poked my head in.  I wanted to get a look at the list of current professors to check to see if certain people were around.  And lo!  A couple were.  I started contemplating dropping by their door to see if they had office hours posted.  As I was turning, I ran into Cameron. 
I hadn't seen Cameron in about a year.  He was coming out of a meeting.  He looked different, in a subtle way.  There was something different about how his hair sat on his head and his face seemed more square than I remembered.  We talked briefly, and he told me to call him so we could have a drink. 
I went down another set of stairs.  I ran into another professor.  He told me to come see him the next morning, at eight. 
"Eight?" I said.  Eight's really early for me, at least these days.  I used to get up at eight for work, but since leaving that job, not so much. 
I think he could sense my reluctance for that hour.  He sort of laughed at me. 
I've got mixed feelings about this teacher.  He's kind of a jerk.  I get the feeling he's one of those people with low self-esteem, because he can't seem to handle anyone knowing anything and there's something very pushy about him.  But I could at least consider what he had to say.  Maybe it was something good?
I went past the office of the other professor I actually wanted to see, and she told me to come in the next week, and okay, okay, I can do it.  She's only available for two hours every week (pretty much no exceptions), which is kind of annoying, because I have a schedule too here. 
As I was going down the last set of stairs before I reached the door to the outside, Bobby came through the door.  I haven't seen him in about a year, and I was so excited to see him.  Bobby is one of those people that I just adore.
Bobby and I mostly talked shop.  He told me about the professor he was working with on an honors thesis.  It was actually another professor I didn't particularly like, but whatever.  He told me about how he's decided to concentrate on early modernism, so stuff around the time of Shakespeare.  
He had heard through the grapevine a little about what I had been up to, mostly thanks to Erin.  He also invited me to a party.
I have to admit that I have a bit of a crush on Bobby.  In addition to being nice and smart, he's obviously into literature, and that's way more than I need to be happy with a boy.  (It is a sad statement on boys that even with those two requirements, not many boys are left.)  Unfortunately, Bobby's got a girlfriend, so I don't think anything will be happening there anytime soon.    

Queer Theory

I went over to the Union today to have a meeting with my friend Erin and work on our papers, the one I mentioned yesterday. While I was sitting there waiting for her, I did some reading for the class. We're reading essays on queer theory, which is fine, but whoever had my book beforehand wrote some seriously stupid notes in the margins of this chapter. At one point, she (I'm assuming she, given the handwriting) asked if the open sexuality the queer movement was espousing included pedophilia and necrophilia. Um, no. But really? Did you really need to ask that?
I'm always shocked and saddened with how many people have to ask questions like that. This year especially, I've encounter a lot of people who don't even know the basics on issues like gender, race, and sexuality. If it's not their identity, they're ignorant.
How can people live like that? Do they really believe they are the only version of human out there, or do they just think they're the only kind they should bother knowing about?