The fabulous thing about working at a hospital is that, as long as you are brave enough to sneak away from your tiny cubicle, you get to experience a wealth of information bigger than the palacial institute you are currently standing in.

I am far from loving my job this summer, but it isn't bad, and jobs, unlike relationships, are something in which I am okay settling for the mediocre. I'm doing a lot of interesting but unimportant research on topics I'll only broach ever again if I end up dating someone health-savvy and have had several glasses of chardonnay.

I work side-by-side with a very cute guy from Moravian, whose teeth amaze me, as they are commercial-white and perfectly straight. He golfs, which I've always thought is funny when you're under the age of 40, although I have no justification for the feeling (I think it has something to do with the image of plaid pants and off-kilter caps). He has no clue what he wants to do when he graduates, which makes me feel better about my own uncertain future. And he's an all-around nice guy, a people person, and I'm afraid he may think I'm cold because as much as I try to return his niceties, I'm not nearly as natural about it.

My boss is slowly coming to terms with not being a kid anymore, as she's just had one of her own. The redefinition process is a curious thing to observe, as she tends to straddle the invisible but marked lines between young adulthood and parenting, between her twenties and her thirties, between boss and colleague. Transitions are always a challenge.

The doctors I work with are a blast, and certainly some of the smartest people I know. They seem to have it all, an American dream packaged neatly in a white lab coat. Despite my envy, I still prefer my life to come with some assembly required.

I'm finding that I'm not nearly as type-A as I've pinned myself to be in the past; many of my peers seem to be running as A-pluses, planning and pining and worrying and studying and hoping. I've got my biography on Virginia Woolf, my four-day-old rice and beans in the fridge, and time to nap, and it all suits me fine.

Clearly I still freak out too much about small things. There are still things I want, and that's why. I'm in the process of pursuing, and it's tiring. I'd like a few things to be figured out. Like where I'm going to live and work between May of next year and February of the following (when I'll be going to Spain, Chile, or China to teach English). Or what I'm going to eat for dinner tonight (the rice is really getting skanky).

But it's all somewhat enjoyable, and I guess for now I can't ask for much more.