And it goes on, and on, and on....

Finally, my weekend has arrived. (Yes, I know it's Tuesday. Monday is my Friday. Fun fun fun fun.)

So, what do I have planned?

"Hm, well I think I'll finally rent a copy of Top Gun, and write about robots. And maybe I'll go buy new windshield wipers, since mine are terrible and the rainy weather has hit Ontario. And while I'm at it, I should wash my car-it's still covered in Toronto grime. Oh yeah, and I need to go to the bank, and get a police check, and send money to Algonquin to secure my spot and....oh no, I forgot about residence!"

Instead, I've been sitting at my laptop reading every last article on a blog written by an American Airlines 737-800 Captain and watching Gone with the Wind.

I instituted a minimum word count but I don't think I need to explain why I haven't been able to keep up with myself. Do you have a job? Work four-five days a week, surrounded by screaming children and bitchy adults in a hot and humid environment that sucks the very life out of you? Do you drive two hours total to work everyday? Are you forced to listen to not only seven Taylor Swift songs a day, but also Justin Bieber? What's next, Rebecca Black? Sigh. I think you get the picture.

I'm slowly getting the hang of this new job-so in good time, I hope I can learn to cope better and maybe I'll learn to juggle writing, work, my social life, and other pursuits (such as watching Top Gun) more effectively.

It really makes me wonder...how the heck am I going to adapt to college?!

OH SHI-

Six months and counting. Before I know it I'll be on my own for the first time in my life, in a city five hours away from the people I care about the most. I'll be getting up every morning probably around six a.m., I'll be taking classes again-and tough ones at that-and I'll have to actually force myself to do homework, something I struggled with in high school.

However, I will be FLYING- specifically, one of these:

A OFC Cessna 150, the previously mentioned Golf Foxtrot Tango Mike

And you know what, I've been dreaming of flying nearly my whole life (though by drastically different measures, but hey, it's still flying, ain't it?) and the moment is nearly here. By Fall 2012, I will have all my licenses, and I will be FLYING. Flying free as a bird, but hopefully getting paid to do so. D'OH.

I'm not going to lie to you to save face. I'm scared shitless. I'm scared I'll fuck up on an approach. I'm scared that I won't be able to understand ATC's instructions. I'm scared I won't remember to check everything before I go flying, or calculate the fuel I need corrrectly or-god forbid-crash the damn thing. I've never been good at math. I've never been good at parking my car or putting together cute outfits, or talking to people.

However, every flight school staff I've ever talked to has told me the same thing: "If you have the passion, the skill will come."

And hell, do I have a passion for it. So, will I turn out to be another Amelia? Time will tell, won't it?

Me!

In any case, I think I've found my heaven on Earth. And I've already logged 0.8 flight hours toward my future.