Will you marry me?

Oh, man. Every time I sit down to write I feel the pressing urge to rave for paragraphs about how much I love my English classes. As you know, I am taking two of them. Shakespeare and Textual Analysis. And I love them. I want to marry them.
However, I highly doubt any of you care. "Of course she's a fan of her English classes," you'll all say, "it's her major!" And this is true. English is very dear to my heart. I love the feeling I get the first week of any really good class, though. The one that says "This class is going to be hard, but I'm going to kick its ass. And when I'm done, I'm going to be so damn smart." But add to it that it's an English class, and I get that extra special thrill.
Remind me of this thrill in a couple weeks when I'm inundated with reading and papers, would you?