If I had my druthers

Today I find myself sitting at home studying, or trying to make myself study. Studying is always made more difficult for me by competing druthers. I sit here, trying to focus on my notes, or trying to solve problems, and I think “music … book … fireplace … Waffle House … anything!”

I was briefly in the history graduate program at UT, an ill-fated venture, and I remember being so miserable that I was intensely jealous of my father digging potatoes out back. Digging potatoes, for those not in the know, is just about the most miserable thing you can do in a garden. And I don’t even care for fresh potatoes (they make lousy french fries). It was truly a sign that I was in the wrong place – that and the fact that I’m horribly allergic to dust, and therefore allergic to studying history.

Anyway, I’m trying to make myself focus when I’d rather be doing anything else, but I very much don’t want to dig potatoes, so at least there’s that.