Into the Darkest Heart of the English Major

No, not my heart -- the central work of being an English major.
This semester marks the first time in all my academic careers that I haven't had to take a group of academic pre-requisites. No math, no foreign language, no religion, no physical education! Most bizarre of all, my academic advisor told me I had to pick out some electives. Of course I chose Chinese history and bio-ethics, since I have no real common sense. A reasonable person would have chosen introductory drawing or something that doesn't require writing long papers.
Anyway, that leaves me with three English classes. They are a lot of fun, and I'm learning a lot. If there's a problem, it's that I am reading so much that my poor brain is jumbling up Mary Queen of Scots with Robinson Crusoe and Jay Gatsby. I keep having snippets of dreams in which they meet each other and, oddly enough, don't get along. Gatsby the romantic fantasist and planner isn't at all impressed with Mary and her gambler's impulsiveness, and neither of them can stand to be around Crusoe. The think he really needs (1), a bath and (2), some manners. Evidently he's been spending way too much time with his goats. The result is three sulky characters, wandering Crusoe's island and being mean to each other.
And each of them thinks he or she owns the island. Mary claimed it for Scotland, Crusoe has claimed it for himself, and somehow Gatsby has sent his realtor a wire.
When I choose my classes for next semester, I think I'll choose one century and stick with it, instead of bouncing around from the Renaissance to the 18th century to the 20th. This semester, my mental landscape is just too confusing.