Okay. So I've been enjoying myself here at college far more than I thought was possible. I like most of my classes, and I'm fine tolerating the classes I don't much care for.
Like my Language and Formal Reasoning course. It counts as a quantitative reasoning credit, which is great, because that means I don't need to take any statistics. It's a beautiful thing. LFR is my favorite class this semester. It's challenging. Because even though it is a "language" class, it involves a lot of . . . math.
A lot of math. I mean, it's not real math, but it might as well be. The "language" is so jacked up on crack, it thinks it's math. It's ridiculous. There are proofs in this class. PROOFS. AS IN, THE KIND OF THING THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO MAKE THE WALL BLOODY FROM POUNDING YOUR HEAD AGAINST IT IN FRUSTRATION.
Because really, what other kind of proof is there? I'm an English major for a reason. I don't do proofs. I hate proofs. Proofs should go step on a Lego.
But it's so fascinating. The way my professor talks, I can see how multiplication was eventually invented, along with division, in a sense. It's way cool to see how everything with subsets and members and absolute complements all work together smoothly.
But that's only if you know what you're doing.
Which has lead me to believe that my Language and Formal Reasoning class is like a bad boyfriend.
I love it. Possibly more than I should, and all it does to me is make me question myself. It's a challenge I want to overcome, but it makes me prove ITS problems.
I think that this is probably not the relationship I need right now, so I will have to break it off sometime. Maybe before Christmas.