I'm seriously, and sincerely regretting my past two weeks of slacking off on my duties of studying the whole two chapters of mere death of calculus. I'm not suprised why my mathematics tutor basically demanded me to fufil all the questions and equations and also study the text book as if it were a novel. Yes, novels are far more interesting, but by grasping the mind bobbling formulas which are scattered on every A3 page, I found myself hooked on how this beautiful numeral language has shaped life itself. Although the interestingness (If that is even a word) of this text book hasn't really concured my mind and actually physically forced me to spend my two weeks "break" to study this book.
Today the day I have been fearing has finally come. The day my tutor, oh my wonderful tutor shows up on my wonderfully messy doorstep and withers himself to the kitchen table to help me with my "studying".
Sticking coloured sticky notes on pages I haven't even attempted to read in detail, so it seems as if I had.
If you're wondering why I am so terrified of my, lets say overly intellectual being of a tutor. Let's call him "intellectual monster". It's simply because that is what he is. He is the meaning of smart, he has helped some kid whom has never been able to write his name, in year 11, which is quite astonishing, since thats what you learn in baby school, primary school. Anyway, the intellectual monster taught this boy how to study and well, how to write his name. This boy not only shaped his mind but succeeded by mastering every class he took, and got the highest grades out of the 20 kids in his class. I was suprised, mind blown. I guess the saying is partially true " you're only as good as you're teacher ".

Anyway, I best be off, wish me luck in facing my fate which I have set upon myself.