Thursday, August 29, 2013

Something to Ponder

I have yet to see anyone enter or leave the apartment that neighbors mine.  I'm beginning to wonder what kind of hillbilly hermits occupy this place... 

It has also come to my attention that approximately 85% of my trash is comprised of Band-Aids and their wrappers.  So maybe the neighbors are just trying to stay clear of danger. Can't say I blame them. 

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Not So Easy

Allow me to begin this rant with the night before I left New Jersey for West Virginia:

The last of the items that needed to be packed all pertained to the kitchen.  Thus, I was neatly packing my beloved Ninja Blender so that it would efficiently fit between my protein powder and wine glasses when my right hand became enveloped in bright red blood. (Apparently the Ninja is more stealthy than I anticipated.) I naturally walked myself to the bathroom to drown my blood in the cool water of the running faucet.  (I cut myself way too often to be too severely alarmed by gushing blood. Here's a fun fact: I wasn't allowed near the scissor wall in 5th grade because I stapled my shirt to my arm.  So that's that.)

Our travel day was interrupted by frequent re-bandaging and thunderstorms so severe that I probably would have had blisters on my hands if my wounded thumb hadn't prevented me from gripping the steering wheel tight enough to cut off circulation. 13 hours later, we arrived in Huntington.  

12 hours after that, my Mother was on her way back to NJ after helping me move-in illegally (Loverboy had the keys to the apartment even though I technically did not check in for my key.) Three hours after that, the leasing office for my apartment complex asked if my mother was available because they lost her signature as my guarantor.  They wouldn't give me my keys until the next day when she was not in a moving vehicle and was able to fax her signature once again.  Off to a good start, right?

Saturday morning, I got my keys to the apartment.  Saturday afternoon, I locked my car keys inside my car.  My spare set is at my parent's house in NJ.  

After a reasonably smooth-sailing Sunday, I was pumped for an agreeable first week of classes.  I decided to make a hot dinner for Loverboy and I to enjoy when he got home from work.  I preheated the oven, and before I even got to put anything inside, the fire alarm went off.  I tried again ten minutes later, same thing.  No problem, I had chicken in the fridge I could cook on our George Foreman.  Well... as soon as the raw marinated chicken hit the pseudo-grill the fire alarm went off.  Sorry Loverboy, no hot supper for you tonight.  

I'm having trouble accepting the fact that the transition to total independence and adulthood isn't going to be easy.  

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Fashionably Late

Classes have started here at Marshall. According to me, my first class wasn't supposed to be until Thursday.  According to Marshall University and my self-regulated class schedule, my first lecture was Monday at 4:00pm. Imagine the melt down that followed this realization at 5:09pm. 

After frantically calling my mom, Loverboy, and the only two contacts I have recently aquanted myself with in Huntington, I decided it would be in my best interest to do as my advisors recommended and hop on my beach cruiser to speed to the lecture for which I was then an hour and twenty minutes late.

Let me illustrate the scene for you:

I am sitting on the couch aimlessly navigating the Internet in my sweaty sports bra and gym shorts. I am feeling accomplished after a satisfying gym session, an apartment-wide vacuum, load of laundry, and meal prep.  In the midst of productivity I decide to log on to the MU portal where my class assignments are posted.  I think, hm, maybe I can prepare for my class on Thursday like a good little graduate student.  Seconds after inputting my username and password my class schedule alerts me that I needed to be in class from 4:00-6:20.  Panic surfaces and my thoughts become unclear.  How could this be? My first day of class is going so well. Too well.  THIS IS A GRADUATE SCHOOL NIGHTMARE!!!!!!

Fast forward 10 minutes and I am apologetically explaining to my professor (and head of the department that hired me for my graduate research assistantship) that I am not usually an irresponsible airhead ... just sometimes.

Luckily my professor (and head of my department - have I mentioned that?) is an understanding man and was able to laugh about the entire ordeal with me.

Everyone cross your fingers for a more punctual rest of the semester.

Monday, August 26, 2013

There's a Payphone

... in the bar.  Where am I? 
Also, this particular bar in Huntington, West Virginia, has a doorbell you must ring to enter.  Georgia, the establishment's only bartender for what I can only imagine must be the past several decades, controls the lock button on the (all but inviting) front door.  So obviously Chris dragged me to this payphone-bearing speak-easy twice within the first 48 hours of my residence in WV.  

In other news, I seem to be fitting in quite nicely. Ya'll.  

Friday, August 23, 2013

I'd Go Anywhere

In high school, I found a boy whom I would chase anywhere.

The slight chance of seeing him sweaty and cranky after his Friday night football game had me regularly skipping home games at my own alma mater.  His job bussing tables had me cheating on my favorite pizzeria to eat where he might be.  And when he didn’t bring me to his high school dance, I stuck around until he did. 

He hasn’t gotten rid of me since. Not that he really had a chance anyway.

Over six years later, Loverboy and I are smittenly inseparable. And now, post-high school young love, post long-distance college relationship, he is taking his first steps toward a new career.  These steps are in the direction of Huntington, West Virginia, at Marshall University.  

Guess what I did.

I followed.  I applied to Marshall University to earn my master's degree in Literacy, to research rural education, to jumpstart my career as an educator. and to live close to the boy who I will never get tired of chasing. 

This marks the beginning of our new adventure, together. Exploring a new state, a new school, a new career, with not-so-new company. 

To borrow the words of Jake Owen:

West Virginia, Baby I don't care.

"I'd go anywhere, anywhere with you." 

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