Welcome To Bah-stan, Pt. 2

So on Saturday, it was time to really relax and hang out. I'd spent about two months previous to this in the company of strangers or by myself with very few interactions in between (like when the CDC people came out or I meet with my supervisor). Sitting out by the pool with my family was a welcome change to all that.

I think that's about when I started considering what it is I'd gotten myself into. I take my internship very seriously, but there's a downside to that. A person cannot exist on work alone, as I'm finding out.



My parent's house happens to be across the street from Boxford State Park & Wildlife Preserve. Naturally, I decided to go for a hike. I wasn't fully prepared for the drastic change of scenery, though. Here there were no mountain lions, but the ticks are everywhere. I think I'm more afraid of ticks than anything else I've encountered (or could encounter) in the woods. There's also a nasty creature called a Fisher Cat my mother has grown obsessed with. I might have to go get her a Fisher Cat knife like the mountain lion knife my brother got me.



The trails were overgrown and unmaintained, sometimes nearly impossible to spot because of the long grass. In some places, water had reclaimed the soil and I was not about to cross this green bog for anything. Think about what lives in the marsh to turn it green!

I ended up following my little traced map (I drew a general sketch of the trails on a post-it note from the internet) and managed to steer myself the way I wanted to go, even after the watery detour. I kept hearing noises out in the woods, but paid no attention to them. Right up until a blue heron flew directly over my head. Who knew there were giant birds out there??



The problem with my post-it map? The internet was not drawn right and therefore, neither was my post it. When I left the woods (btw, there was not a scale on the trail map), according to my post-it, my street was only a short walk to the left. Twenty minutes later and well past the park, I found myself wondering where the hell the street was. I had to call home for someone to mapquest me. Turns out the street, from my exit, was a short walk. To the right, that is.

By the time I got home I was sticky and gross, but luckily I had a nice pool (with dogs in it) to cool down.



It was nice to sit in a lived-in house with a tivo and other people in it. It made me really think ahead to after this work is done in December. One thing I wasn't used to was how close everything is when you get up north. My mom and I drove 25 minutes and hit Salem.



The main attraction is the Witch Museum, which was a little hokier than I thought it would be. Thank you, Park Service, for ruining my standards on exhibits. My mom and I sat on a bench in a darkened room, listened to narration and looked at wax scenes that illuminated when talked about. It was interesting, if just a tad bit subjective.



This town is a tribute to all things magical, which is confusing in a way. The town's history is morbid and scarred with the deaths of innocents and torture to a town in mass hysteria. And now, you're more likely to see the Harry Potter/B'Witched kind of magic themes here than the true view of "magic" that gave the town its name.



There were still some historic places preserved and not done up for the tourists. One thing I noticed in northern Mass is that every home is historic (except the one my parents live in). You'll see preserved houses along Salem's Derby Wharf and all throughout the town. There'll be little plaques telling you when it was built and who lived there. Even in our neighborhood you see these attached by the front doors.

I tried to imagine my life in Boston when I moved back. I told myself if I didn't land a job by then, I'd go to grad school. Of course, at the time, there was nothing I could see myself going back to school for. I've literally spent months online, looking at all different kinds of programs--law school, psychology, school counseling. Could I see myself as an occupational therapist? Sure I could. How about a guidance counselor? Why not. I pretty much resigned to the fact I could do something, but just be mildly content doing it.

Journalism is dying and psych degrees get handed out like candy nowadays. I kept looking for something different, something I could really see myself doing--and being happy doing. I could be happy being a park ranger--for all of about two years. My problem is that I need a challenge. I have always had a job (or three) because I can't stand to sit still. I need days that change and don't repeat (a la Groundhog's Day). Most people know that my ideal job is working for the Rodale Corp (magazines, book publishers), but I need to be able to be a medical writer and break down medical literature for a different audience. The degree I'm looking at getting now gives me that skill.

People keep saying this came out of nowhere, that it's all of a sudden I want to do this. The sad fact of the matter is that this is always what I wanted to do, I just didn't know people actually did it. With this masters, I can be a medical writer. I can go into marketing. I can help implement programs. Publish. All the things I like to do, just with a specific focus--something I'm already obsessed with anyways.