what's on my mind

At the sound of the tone, the time will be exactly October 2009. That means fall is on my mind. I'm loving the cool weather we're getting here in the desert—"cool" meaning the lower seventies. It's nice to have a temperate breeze blowing through your hair rather than a scorching blast of hell-fire. My allergies are bothering me more so than usual, which ironically may have to do with the Santa Ana winds that have cooled the temperatures down to such pleasurable levels. Airborne mold spores and pollen might be traveling long distances and lodging themselves in my snout. The nearly nonstop coughing and sneezing I've been enduring daily has, by default, been on my mind lately. I mentioned earlier that the soonest I can get a flight physical is October 13. That's two weeks away, dang it. I can't resume flying until after that date. That leaves me wondering what the heck I'm going to DO with myself during those two weeks. I can write and read, sure, but I'll get cabin fever before long. I really ought to be doing something constructive, I suppose, like job hunting. Figuring out a useful occupation is weighing on my mind. At some point this week I have to investigate the other facet of my occupational education: bartender's school. I must start calling around and getting more information. I plan on doing that tomorrow, but it's on my mind nonetheless. From the way I'm writing about it, you might get the impression that I think it's a chore. Well, I'm sure school itself won't be, and neither will tending bar. But looking up the information might be a drag. I sure wish I could just dial a number into the phone or computer and have all relevant data instantly downloaded by wireless Ethernet into a computer chip embedded in my cerebral cortex. Hurry up, technology. I've been reading more H.P. Lovecraft this evening, and the blood-freezing anticipation of what the unsuspecting protagonist will find in shadowy Innsmouth is sinuously entwined about my brain. I would appear to have gained a few pounds since I returned home from Korea in mid-July, which is depressing me, because I'd hoped I could keep it off. I've resolved to eat more vegetables and smaller meals; that's how I lost the 20 pounds in the first place. So far it's going tolerably well. I was forced to eat a can of cold sauerkraut this afternoon because I was practically starving to death, but apart from that, success seems attainable. Those regained pounds—and the fact that, by admitting this to you, I sound like some kind of insecure, emasculated health nut—sit heavily on my mind. I'm cursing myself for slacking in other ways as well. I resolved to learn Korean, once, and now that I'm home, my textbooks have been doing nothing but collecting dust. Now that I have so much time on my hands, it's high time to start learning. Hey! I could address this concern and figure out what to do with myself by studying Korean every day! Well, scratch those two off the list. I just learned the meaning of the word "sophomoric" today. Though I'm grateful that my vocabulary has been boosted a little, I'm also a trifle distressed. The word "sophomoric" seems to describe me perfectly. Look, I'm using the word "sophomoric" in a blog, for Pete's sake. What's more sophomoric than that? That could even be considered ostentatious (which I used to think was the perfect word to describe me). I'm having a cocktail party on the third weekend in October, and trying to organize a group trip to Las Vegas the weekend before that. So far only a couple of people have expressed interest in either event. That's just great. Since when did all my friends get to be so staid? How come they can't get time off work? What's with their deplorable lack of enthusiasm? What's wrong with my capabilities as a host—or indeed, my personality—that people are so reluctant to do things with me? What in blazes is going on?? Most worrisome, I've recently become unsure of my chances of marrying an Australian girl. I've heard rumors that they don't really like Americans as much as everyone says they do. The American accent is annoying, for one thing. For another, an Aussie girl can never be sure if an American fellow is going to up and take off for somewhere else in the world. What kind of chance do I have? My voice is annoying even by American standards. Plus I'm a self-proclaimed globetrotter. No Aussie girlfriends for me. I'm doomed. Finally, I begin to feel as though I've been blogging too much lately. I rapped out two entries today, and another one yesterday, as many as five or six in the last few days. It's too much. This overbloggage is taking over my life, just like the Bearded One warned that it could. So I think I'll taper off. I don't think I'll do any blog-writing tomorrow, or even the day after...possibly not even the day after that. Hold all my mail.