I'm flying to Boston on Sunday for a working week and some typical extracurricular adventures. I've already composed a flurried "On Tap" list: a film at the Brattle and maybe one at the Capitol, the Garment District, cocktails with Carl, brunch in SoEnd, the Breakfast of Champions on my way to work, those giant glass marbles at the MFA, red wine with Hender, CD shopping in Davis or Kenmore or Harvard square, a Thai tea at Ben's in West Newton, laughing with the NT5ers, noodle soup with the Freys in the Porter Exchange, a Debbie dinner, a bookstore visit. Just a few things that put me back in that space/time continuum.

In my mind, Boston has become the place where I was single and adventurous and in-your-face independent-- so this trip has taken on that nostalgic feeling of dabbling in a past life. Tonight I was reading a feature in the Post's Weekend called "Chad About Town"-- in which our everyman moves and shakes his way through a typical single weekend. This particular passage thrust me back there-- charmed me in that flipping-though-old-photos kind of way:

"All of them seem always in motion, on their way to or from somewhere else-- graduate school, another job, a girlfriend, a foreign sojourn, a party-- traversing a meandering, unhurried limbo between college and yet-to-be chosen commitments. Their lives intersect for a Saturday night or a couple of months or a year or three across the geography of their own particular DC, a city of sublets and group houses, dance clubs and coffee bars, internships and Metro rides and pack dating and takeout sushi and taxicabs."

It's odd when I think about specifically moving from Boston to DC in order to move past some of this-- when it was never really about geography to begin with. Even at the time I knew it-- but I also knew that clean breaks make clean slates. And when you pick a new point, you improve your chances to rocket your tangential in a completely different direction.