First of all, we can all breathe easy because the Red Sox are safely in the World Series. Of course, I expect Boston to spontaneously combust sometime in the next week or so.

I am procrastinating, to the benefit of my blog. I have many hours of interning to complete, but I am burnt out on my current project, so I think I'd better blog. Also, I should be writing my personal statement for grad school applications. Today I sent off checks to Carleton, Mount Holyoke, and ETS to get scores and transcripts sent. I'm hoping these literal checks will spur some figurative reality checks in the application process. In any case, it feels good and nostalgic to have a reason to procrastinate again.

I had a good, social weekend. On Friday, I took the train down to Lakeville/Middleboro to meet Keith. It's an hour's ride on a very comfortable train. I sat on the top deck and enjoyed the view of leaves changing, small towns, and cranberry bogs. The ride back to South Station on Saturday was enhanced by the presence of outlying Red Sox fans. I spent Saturday night in a bar in Harvard Square, watching Game 6 and losing my voice and my hearing. Sunday I had brunch with my sister and her friend in Brighton. I enjoyed walking around the city, continuing to figure out where things are located, and in what relation to each other. The days have been warm and bright, perfect for rowing, sculling, and baseball.

This week finds me reconsidering things. The only constant is how much I enjoy Boston. The internship is unsatisfying for a variety of reasons and my search for part-time work has stalled again. I wonder if I should form a new plan - work full-time and scrap the internship? I'm going to give it a couple more months and then revisit this idea. Or maybe I need to scrap grad school and look into professional positions instead. The possibilities keep hope and anxiety alive.

A lot has changed since my last post, but remnants of that mood cling. Transition is transition, with all its incumbent uncertainty. At least now my transitional feelings are taking place in new, interesting environs. I am living on the 5th floor of an apartment building in Brookline. I love being in Boston and my fascination is enhanced by the very specific time of year and set of circumstances in which I've arrived. I am speaking, of course, about the baseball post-season. The Red Sox are battling the Cleveland Indians for the ALCS pennant. I am a peripheral and intermittent fan, at best, but even I can feel the fever. I walked down by Fenway yesterday, around 1pm the day of an 8:20pm game. Fan were already roaming around in packs, bedecked in red and blue (and the occasional pink - MLB's unfortunate nod to femininity), seemingly just there to soak up the atmosphere. The weather was startlingly beautiful and the air lay sparkling around the park, shimmering and charged with excitement. Little did those early-gathering fans know: the game that night would last 5 hours and 14 minutes, finally discharging its weary and (momentarily) defeated denizens at 1:37am. I wonder what the atmosphere around the park felt like then?

I can report that Boston is a good place to be lonely, unemployed, and indecisive. I am feeling and experiencing all those things, but also the thrill of being in a new city that contains much to compel and fascinate. In a flash, I can take to the streets and discover new territory. I can nurse my nagging indecision over an excellent cup of coffee and eavesdrop on the deciders around me. I can take my laptop to the stunning courtyard of the public library in Copley Square and wait for inspiration to strike. I can gaze out my 5th floor window and let the vista of trees, old buildings, and hills spark my emotions. I can immerse myself in the chaos and confusion of the Haymarket farmer's market on a Saturday afternoon. I can wander the North End in search of pastry, secretly superior to all the tourists who are just visiting this city. I'm even enjoying the job search, as it takes me hither and yon, on the T and on foot, into high rises, hospitals, and ramshackle office parks. I almost dread the day when I will be returning to the same place over and over. These initial interviews are so delicious, filled with promise and flirtation, like a first date before the unfortunate political views of ones companion are revealed. I scan my email and phone messages, wondering if I'll get called back for a "second date". As delicious as the interviews are, the waiting is dismal. Time passes slowly and my worries proliferate. At least I am safe and secure in my housing and somewhat solvent, for the moment.

Just took a break from writing to discuss politics, baseball, and the visiting cat. I am keeping the plants in my room while the cat is here, so I have a jungle to contemplate. I watered my jungle and now I wonder what the rest of the day will bring, or what I will bring to it.