Ukrainians?

I sent an e-mail to a Ukrainian student today. yes...the writer's club is participating in a pen-pal program set up by a woman in the Peace Corps. i'm so excited; i hope they reply soon. i don't exactly know who i sent the e-mail to, but i suppose i'll find out when they answer. so, in the meantime, i'll just write odd little...
OMG!!!! i was in AP this afternoon, working on a little writing project for one of the stories i'm developing (mainly i was making the language, rules of the world, history, etc., etc.) and i realized: one of these days i'm going to be one of those crazy old women who no one sees except when she dies and when people come into my house, they're going to find everything all perfect and picturesque until they get to this one room where the walls are completely filled with papers and sticky notes, with string running all around and charts hanging from the ceiling...and will all be for one book that i never actually get around to writing because i have to write down everything about the story. yeah...i have this problem that, either before or in the middle of my story, i have to write a history for its world because i can't just leave it without a history. so, normally i create a timeline and events that have happened, which normally exapnd across a great gap of time. sometimes, too, i have to write lists of the monarchs. i have to write down their full names, all their children, their spouses, etc., etc. and i have to write when they were born, how and when they died, what they did during their reign. it hardly ever ends...well, it only ends when i lose interest and start in on another story.
so anyway...i was sitting there, doing all of that stuff when i looked up (because i was listening to the Lord of the Rings thing, too) and i realized. "hey! i'm nearly as odd as tolkien." whereas angela turned around (because she heard rustling papers and me muttering to myself) and told me that i was just crazy. when i told her my whole old lady theory, she smiled and just said that she'd write my story if i died before writing it. she'd just use all my material (well, not all because i'm pretty sure a lot of it isn't necessary at all to anyone but myself). i laughed and returned to my muttering (well, after going into a lengthy tirade about the story i was going to get around to writing eventually).
well, basically, after only two days of having this story in my head, i already have a notebook full of stuff and a budding language i have to get back to. bye!

p.s. please tell me i'm not crazy