..i think i need a (tequila?) sunrise.

So: my first summer away from home. Granted, I've been away at college for two years now, but the decision to refrain from three more months lifeguarding at the FK Rec & Parks Department pool seems unfamiliar. After 19 summers in northern Maine, I was sure that getting away was the right decision; I'm now geographically reachable to my Syracuse friends, close and yet far enough away from my family, and most important, pursuing a productive and useful opportunity. Still, here I am, sitting in my bedroom in my apartment in Medford, a mere 35-hours away from my first day as an intern, unsure if giving up precious, quickly depleting time away from where the deer and the antelope play was the right decision. I keep telling myself that all of this will be great; a new shot at absolute independence, the opportunity to explore life in a city, and of course, the benefits that will supplement my education. I know that I am right, but I think it's going to be a lonely summer. My family is seven hours away, my friends are at least five, and I'm shy and alone in a city, working 9-5 with a few adults all summer long. Thinking positive, thinking positive, thinking positive. This summer will help me determine if I'm a city or country mouse (clearly a story pre-suburban sprawl), allow me to really get a feel for what I think I want to do, and will quite obviously provide the opportunity to learn a whole lot more about who I am, where I am at, and who/where I want to be. Positive, positive, positive experiences.

I am spending the next 10-12 weeks interning for the National Partnership for Educational Access. Essentially, the organization exists as a communications mechanism for non-profit groups dedicated to making improvements in education. The hope is that by sharing best practices and communicating research among different institutions, more of our nation's future citizens, especially those from minority and under-served backgrounds will be better prepared to deal with the crises of today.

I ventured into the city today to map out my route and check out where I will be interning...

I'm excited! The building is beautiful and located in the heart of the Financial District. While the aesthetics of the internship are enticing, the opportunity to learn about the future of education (and potentially even the early, miniature attempts at privatization?) will be invaluable. Summer in the city, what up?!

In order to travel anywhere this summer, I will be relying on public transportation. I practiced my 45-minute commute today, and was enamored by this incredible people-watching opportunity. The girl I am subletting from helped point me on my way and suggested I bring a book or my iPod to entertain myself, but I found such items to be a distraction. Why? Let me tell you why...

• After spending an academic year living on South Campus, I'm not used to having to pay to get on a bus. Therefore, I busted onto the 96 this morning and found myself a seat in the back. I did, however, forget to compensate the city for my use of their bus. I quickly realized my mistake and found myself in a bind: Should I pretend like I am completely unaware that I am even supposed to pay, or correct my error and rectify the mistake? Of course, heavy Catholic guilt overpowered any potential rule-breaking, and I journeyed to the front of the bus to pay my $1.50 fare. The driver seemed completely unaware of my misdemeanor, but he appreciated my honesty. I think. He could use a lesson from the Tuesday/Thursday morning Winding Ridge bus driver who takes his job far too seriously.
• The bus dropped me off at my train station, and I entered with the intention of purchasing a Charlie Ticket. That went off without a hitch, but when I attempted to swipe my card through the machine to venture downstairs to the trains, the doors in front of me would not open. I pushed them and pulled at them and even tried to separate them, but failed in all of my attempts. I looked around at the passengers around me who clearly were having no trouble getting through their gates; the doors were opening for them! Finally, a gentleman with kind eyes dressed in MBTA blues tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the gate next to me that was wide open, waiting for me to enter. Lesson learned: swipe Charlie Ticket on right, not left.
• A few stops down on the subway line, a man and a woman entered the train. The man was quite overweight, but the woman was very, very slender, with high-wasted 80's jeans, a tight, white, tucked-in tanktop, shoulder-length grey hair, and arms that would rival Mrs. Murphy's or Janielle's. The woman tried to stand near the man (clearly they were together) but he barked at her, she started to cry hysterically, ran off to the corner of the train, and hid her face so that no one could watch the breakdown. The man kept glancing over, but could not have been too concerned. In my opinion, he had just asked for a divorce. The very elderly Asian couple carrying a conversation in Chinese across the aisle shared the very same notion, I think.
• Four college-aged students carried half-a-dozen live lobsters onto the train in plastic bags, but all were too scared to sit near them.
• While waiting for the subway to enter the station, I watched a man fall down the stairs. Tripped,-slid-on-his-knees,-and-rolled-all-the-way-down-the-staircase, fell down the stairs. Everyone stared. It probably didn't help that he slightly resembled a young Elvis Presley. An Elvis Presley gone really bad, but still, Elvis Presley all the same. His trip rivaled my performance at 416 Euclid.
  

There you go. My first 36 hours in Boston. I'll keep you posted and I'll keep it epic.