Making Mental Notes

Sitting here, in the quiet of my room in Hamilton, New Jersey, on Oct. 20, 2009, full from a dinner of chicken seared and oven-baked in white wine that was terrible to drink, just fine to cook with.

Drinking strong coffee made about seven hours ago, listening to a new song from a group I would never have known existed if not for turning my television on for the first time in months because I wanted to lay in bed while watching the Phillies game.

I am making mental notes of where I am at any particular time. It is now almost four years gone since I went to South Korea, and about four months until I go again.

Rowan said I sent my information soon enough after EPIK accepted me to the program for the February intake that I will almost certainly have my first suggested choice for location.

Busan is the second largest city in South Korea, with nearly eight million residents, a decent nightlife and a robust foreigner population. It lies in the southeast of the country, about 1 1/2 hours southeast of Jinju.

To give you a sense of location, it took us about an hour to get from Jinju to Masan, 

where I had my paperwork finalized in 2005. See that mess of islands on the southwest 

portion of this map? Where Mok'po is? That's where Imja island is. 

Not much of a robust foreigner population there.

My ankle still hurts from when I miscalculated a step in front of Ren.'s house and came tumbling down upon it. Its Ace bandage lies to my right on this bed, unmade since I washed the sheets this afternoon and have yet to put them back on. I am making mental notes of where I am.

I have an $1,800 project ongoing writing a booklet on neonatal care for a medical equipment company. It is my first major project ever. It comes in a year of firsts for me, and I feel fortunate to have been able to do as much as I have in 2009, and in my life in general. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever decide to stop. I wonder if I will know when it is time to stop, if that time ever comes. Maybe it will, maybe I will know when it does. But, not yet.

The light from my lamp reflects over the windows looking out on this unseasonably warm evening, the first of several before we return to normal late October temperatures at the end of the week. The United States Postal Service Express Mail is guaranteeing my paperwork arrives in Seoul by Friday, and the process will continue from there. For now, I lay here with the warmth of this computer on my lap, my hands dry from cleaning thousands of eggs over the last month and a half, in a calm state because tomorrow is another day off from work where I can sleep in and then study thermoregulation on premature babies some more over some more French Pressed Small World Coffee. I am making mental notes of where I am, so I can remember them fondly tomorrow.