...does that mean that you have ceased to exist for that day?

More and more often I feel as though I spend al day trying to get something done but end up not finishing anything. I stayed up until 2 a.m. finishing homework that I was planning on doing this weekend but took a back-seat to more important things. Yet, today, I still had to read a chapter for my creative writing class right before class started, finish writing an essay for my math class that still isn't done, catch up on two weeks worth of geology labs that I haven't had time to even look at yet, finish reading a novel for my fiction class that--you guessed it!--I still haven't finished.

So that begs the question, what am I doing blogging when I could be doing homework? But I have been doing homework ALL DAY and I need a break.

Another question that brings up is what am I doing writing a four-page academic paper for my 100-level math class about Georg Cantor? And don't worry, the teacher reminded us that we have to follow APA formatting including margins and citations and use at least five academic sources. Not only do we have to write the essay, but we also have to explain one of Cantor's theories to someone not in our class and have them sign our essay affirming that we taught them about said theory. I still have two pages to write, and I've run out of things to say about infinity. Ugh!

Okay, I'm finished complaining, I promise.

I'm working on writing some short stories at the moment. I've always loved reading short stories, so I'm really excited to be writing some. I have files and files of short stories that have never before seen the light of day, but I feel the ones I am currently working on are really pushing me.

As I was driving around rural Idaho, I got this image of an old man who refuses to relinquish his farm life, and I began wondering why this man won't to move on though he is really too old to work his land. And why haven't his kids taken over for him? After getting out the first draft, I realized that I know nothing about potato farming nor about being a 73 year-old man who doesn't even own a computer. So this is where my journalism skills kick in. I've been interviewing everyone I know who has lived or worked on a potato farm, I'm researching irrigation techniques, farm equipment and faming philosophy, and I'm loving every minute of it.

Who would have thought a city-girl from the suburbs of Chicago would grow to love a 73 year-old potato farmer from Paul, Idaho? And whoever thinks writing fiction takes less time and research than writing nonfiction has no idea what they are talking about. I have spent twice as long researching this short story than I ever spent writing any newspaper article.