I will spare you the details of my daily schedule. Suffice it to say that apart from my class schedules MWF and TR, every day has a mind of its own. I'm enjoying all my classes, thankful to be taking a mere 17 hours this semester.

Being in Ms. W's fiction class has made me more aware of writing and I feel something giving way inside. Somehow, I've been trying to write from outside myself as an omniscient being. But this has all been futile and frustrating; I'm not God. I don't have many, or even a few, answers for the world's problems. Why then do I write?

Sarah Orne Jewett once advised Willa Cather to find the quiet center of her own life and write from there to the world. My quiet center is surrounded by a swarm of questions like bees around a hive. I've persisted this far in trying to put these questions to rest, but is that what I really want? I don't think it is. What good is a beehive without bees? Certainly, the bee has its sting, but it also makes the honey. If I can only let my questions be the means whereby I gather sips of truth and wisdom as bees do their nectar! Then in the confines of my quiet center let those questions fan the nectar into substance that will sweeten not only my own existence but others' as well.


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