As real as chemical synthesis.

I don't want MUN profs to go on strike. There. I've said it.

I like going to class and learning which political figure did this to that country. I like reading texts and having my ideas challenged. It excites me to no end when a debate begins in class.

I am nerd. Anyone who reads this blog already knows that.

It was funny, in Iqaluit, no one knew I was a nerd. Whenever people asked me what was up with my life and I responded with "Um, I'm majoring in Political Science and minoring in law. Oh, and I'm getting a diploma in Criminology." People kind of just looked at me with this weird expression on their face as if to say "But you work at North Mart."

It seems I can't even have a real conversation anymore. This whole not-learning-anything-of-value thing is getting to me. The only subjects I talk about now are the weather and downloaded television shows. When someone actually questions me about something of value I'm almost shocked out of my summer-stupor. Almost.

So I know that when school starts (when does school actually start?) I am royally screwed. I'm sure I won't be the only one, but let's be honest, I don't care about them. This is the longest time in my life (well, since I was four) that I've gone without being in school. I wish I could say it's been revitalizing.

The moral of this story? MUN profs, don't go on strike because my mind (along with the other 20, 000 students' minds) have already gone to mush. Even an extra week of "vacation" at this point could do serious long-term brain damage.

If you're not part of the problem, you're part of the precipitate!