For some reason, I thought my seminar presentation was next, next Thursday, when in fact, it's next Tuesday. I feel doomed. I haven't even started reading the book yet.

Truth is, because the weather has been awesome (so awesome that people are dropping dead) I've been loosing motivation to study. In fact, I'm loosing motivation to do anything at all. I just want to sit and nap all day and drink Iced Caps and get fat and hyper.

My seminar class is so-so. I actually despise seminar classes, just because you're forced to talk and my brain doesn't think fast enough when I'm around smart people.

The seminar class I'm taking right now is on, and don't laugh or yawn while reading the title please, Native and North American Literature. The other seminar class offered in the summer was on Jane Austen WHICH would have been awesome to be in because I've already read half her books, which would cut my readings by half. Unfortunately, that class filled up as fast as you can say Mr. Darcy, so I got stuck in the Native Literature class.

I'm secretly (actually this is not a secret) a fan of Canadian Literature. I just think that there's so much to tell about Canada and how cool and awesome Canadians are and that American Literature is overshadowing Canadian Literature because American publications make a lot more money. Anyway, point is, we need more Canadian books.

The books I'm reading for this class is not all Canadian, but it's on Native Americans (duh). Native Americans are interesting storytellers. The novels, at least the ones I've read, are very choppy and non-linear and incoherent which is perfect because when I write my novel, it's going to be exactly like this: confusing.

Unfortunately, my love for Canadian Literature does not surpass my love for sleep so no matter how much I berate myself into reading that book for my presentation, I will most likely put sleep first.

The one thing that makes this class more bearable is my professor, though. He's tall and lanky and reminds me of a Disney cartoon character. He looks really young, and gets very descriptive with stories that is irrelevant to what we're talking about in class (such as his argument with the woman who works at Robarts, his love for Dixie bikes and floofy drinks). It's hard for me to imagine that he has his PhD because he doesn't act like it.

By this I mean, you know how some people with PhD's act like they're all that? As if the world revolves around their big brain? Not my professor. He acts like the average Joe who has romantic musings about moving to France when life here gets boring.

Anyway, the other week I was in the campus bookstore when I spotted this book on math. I don't know what came over me, but I bought it. See, there's a reason I major in English, and that's because I can't do math. When I was in high school, I used to cry over my gr.10 math homework. That's how much I hate math. But for some reason, when I saw this book, I was suddenly inspired, as if I was going to read the numbers off the pages in awe and the mysterious world of math would suddenly make sense to me.

Maybe it's my predisposed Asian math genes that compelled me to purchase this book, or the heat affecting my brain, but now I'm stuck with this book since the bookstore has a stinky 2 week return policy (not that I've ever returned a book in my life).

Life goal #379 that will most likely never get accomplished: read math.

I'm pretty sure reading math will be just as daunting as reading Chaucer.

Chaucer:

Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar

A paire of bedes, gauded all with greene,

And theron heeng a brooch of gold ful sheene,

On which there was first writen a crowned A,

And after, Amor vincit omnia

Math:

38 x 263 = 30 x 263 + 8 x263

= 30 x 200 + 30 x 60 + 30 x 3 + 8 x 200 + 8 x 60 + 8 x 3

= 6000 + 1800 + 90 + 1600 + 480 + 24

= 9400 + 570 + 24

= 9994

If only life was more simple :/

---edit---

As it turns out, my professor minored in math. Whaaa...