Alright, blog. I admit it-- it's been far too long. I totally owe you, and I've owed you for a while. Not like anything huge has happened. Not like I (finally) got my master's or anything. Not like I got another year older. Not like I've spent time lately thinking about life's turning points, and how they can be beautiful even when institutionally imposed...but I guess a lot has happened.

To be brief about the birthday, it was anti-climactic. Not anyone's fault. BJ got me a lovely teaching book (How People Learn: Brain, Mind, Experience, and School,) which I summarily devoured in a cafe that day and on the plane ride home. I started the day with a breakfast at Bentley's-- my second favorite coffee house in the whole entire world- got taken out to a nice dinner, baked some cookies, made some new buddies, and curled up and watched TV with them. But, frankly, my birthday was going to come anyway, and required no special effort on my part to effect its arrival.

My oral exam was, however, surprisingly climactic and necessitated near-Herculean strength, if only to battle the weeks of sleep deprivation that preceeded it. After talking to a few older grad students and some of my own buddies who had already passed their exams, I was prepared to leave the exam room frustrated, nervous, and quite possibly on the verge of tears. No one ever feels as if they did as well as they could have, or as if the exam allowed them to exhibit the full breadth of their knowledge on any of their given subjects. My exam was no different, (I didn't, for example, get to expound upon my theory of the novel form as a reaction to the (specifically epic) figure of the hero and the totalizing perspective his function implies, and I didn't get to talk about how ethnographic literature between 1680-1800 seems to be experimenting with different conceptions of subjectivity...specifically asking whether or not a Lockean paradigm of subjectivity can really accurately assess the psychology of, let's say, the colonial other...) but...well...if I were to distill my two-hour exam down to a few highlights, it would look like this:

(The Kickoff/ Completely surprising minute one touchdown.)
Advisor 1: We've reviewed your writing samples together, and we unanimously agree on their superior quality.
Me: Oh...okay!

(Early American exam, 2nd quarter touchdown)
Advisor 2: If you were to construct a feminist version of Early American literary history using these 10 texts (lists off texts), what would that narrative look like?
Me: You know, it's interesting that you've only listed texts authored by women. I don't think that the best way to go about constructing this type of narrative because (2 minute explanation on what's wrong with approaching feminist readings that way,) so I'm going to add these works (list list list) and start here...
All three advisors: Raise eyebrows and nod simultaneously...

(19th Century American Exam, 3rd quarter touchdowns)
Advisor 3: So the American Renaissance...which means what?
Me: F.O. Mattheissen's formulation of the flowering of American literature that took place between 1850 and 155.
A3: Involving which authors?
Me: Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Melville, and Whitman.
A3: (probingly) In that order?
Me: (unflapped.) Yes.
A3: And which big works?
Me: Representative Men, Walden, the big three Hawthorne novels...
A3: Which are?
Me: Scarlet Letter, 1850, House of Seven Gables, 1851, and Blithedale Romance, 1852...
A3: and what else is important about 1852?
Me: Uncle Tom's Cabin was published (which Matthessien doesn't seem to want to admit,) and Melville's Pierre.
A3: Subtitled?
Me: "The Ambiguities."
etc., etc.

Yeah, I was unstoppable until I couldn't identify one Bryant poem...which A3 didn't seem to mind too much, but I'm sure I'll hear about later.

And then...
(Novel list, 4th quarter touchdown)
Advisor 1: Before I start, I just want to say...Oh my god, you've become a full-fledged Americanist...I can't even keep up...

Then he asked me about Waverly, which I had skimmed, on a freak instinct, the night before. (Definite hail mary pass.)

When we all got up to leave after everything was over, A3 actually clapped me on the shoulder and told me that I deserved to go home and have a beer. Score!


So...yeah. There was a fair amount of dominating. Or at least I felt good about the whole experience when it was all over. I've spent the past few weeks recuperating, trying to catch up on everything that I had ignored while I was studying (what? Obama's president? what? I actually have people that love me that I should call? what? I have to pay my power bill?) and being, in general, as useless as possible. This weekend, for example, I hung out with my friends, watched cheesy romantic comedies on hulu, ate a jar of peanut butter, and learned how to play "Hey Ya!" on the guitar. Ridiculous? Yes. Regretted? Absolutely not.

I guess that's the best thing that I can say about all of this...the years (literally) that I've spent studying, and my 25th year in particular. From what I can see now, it seems like I've used up a lot of time worrying, and wondering whether or not all of this is good for me. I'm not sure if I have an answer for that question, but I feel like I'm in a position to realize that there's a lot about the past few years that I wouldn't give back. I've liked the books. I've liked growing to the point where I can not only talk about them cogently with other professionals, but also make them provoking and accessible to students. I'm also secretly proud of the fact that I can provide an Emersonian quote to fit nearly every human experience, and contextualize the quote with an explanation of its literary and historical importance.

I can even tell you what Emerson might think about all of that peanut butter. But that is perhaps best saved for another day...