I hate moving

The title is pretty self-explanatory. I hate moving. and yet, I'm doing it...AGAIN. It's been a little over a year since I made the BIG move from Florida back to New England. I settled into this apartment and swore I wouldn't move again for at least two years.


ooohhhhh self, you should've known better. You've moved every year since you started college many moons ago, why would this be any different?

So once again, I am packing my shit into boxes (and I have entirely WAY WAY WAAAAAY too much shit) and getting ready to move on Thursday...however, I do think this move will be different than previous years because I am not moving in/out of a dorm, I am not moving to a new state or even a new town. Oh no, I'm simply moving to a new street....2 streets away to be precise. While this may seem ideal to some and trust me, I'm super excited to be staying in my neighborhood, it's going to be the biggest pain in the butt I've ever experienced. for several reasons.

For those of you who are familiar with Boston, particularly the North End, we have a delightful summer tradition of "feast". Every weekend the masses flock to Hanover St to worship one Saint or another (and by worship I mean close down the largest street in the neighborhood in order to set up 93840923498324 fried dough, pasta and sausage carts while greasy Italian men from nearby suburbs try to hock all the cheap crap they couldn't sell at the flea markets). So, in true Marie-luck fashion, feast happens to start while I'm moving meaning Hanover St will be closed and the neighborhood will be ridiculously overrun with tourists, hardcore Italians and other general pains in the asses. Problem numero uno.

Problem numero dos lies in the actual apartment set ups. Holding near and dear to old school Boston architecture, both my current dwelling space and new digs feature spiral, walk-up staircases...and I do NOT live on the first floor (or the second for that matter). Have you ever tried shoving a couch down three flights of winding stairs only to bring it right back up a second set of winding stairs in a new building? When I moved in last time, my box spring was so jammed that we had to saw it in half and then re-bracket it back together once it was in my bedroom.

Problem numero tres is probably the most hilarious yet potentially fatally dangerous situation of them all. I looked to hire professional movers, however in reference to problem #1 and problem #2 it was going to cost me a small fortune to get someone to help me...and being the stubborn Irish shopaholic that I am, I just couldn't imagine parting with that much money for something that I've done so many times before. So I rented a U-haul instead....this is where the hilarity may or may not ensue. Being freshly single and moving mid-week, many of the strapping young men I would usually rely on are not available to help. I have enlisted the help of some gentlemen with muscles but they are meeting my roommate and I at our apartment. This means Jenny and I will be picking up the Uhaul and driving it to my apartment by ourselves. Now I realize many of you do not know me well. I suck at driving. a lot. I'm very much a fan of the words "oops", "shit", and "oh wow I didn't even see that there"....and this is when I'm driving my Toyota...not a 14 foot moving truck down the smallest, narrowest, winding-est (is that a word?) streets in the city of Boston. I'm contemplating leaving flyers on all my neighbors cars instructing them to park somewhere else for the day or else cross their fingers and say a prayer.

Needless to say this move is going to be horrible...but the end result will all be worth it. I will be gaining a new roommate, a much nicer apartment (heat included yaaay!) and be able to start saving money for the grad school I'm so desperately trying for...

stay tuned I will try and update this weekend post-move....if I'm not in jail for several hit-and-runs around the North End area. or dead.

Sorry for the lack of posts and updates lately. With school out for the summer, my routines have all gone out the window and trust me, this blog isn't the only thing that has felt the effects...my wallet and diet have as well (too many summer nights spent at the bars equals way too much time spent eating late night pizza which, consequently, leads to too many mornings spent in bed hungover, of course correlating directly with too little time spent in the gym)

can you see how well all the GRE studying is paying off?

G.R.E is the devil

I'm a big dork.

I love going to school. I really miss being in college...and not just because its totally acceptable to get black out drunk on a Tuesday night or create a diet plan based solely on Ramen Noodles, McDonalds and cheese pizza. I miss college because I *gasp* enjoyed the classes.

Now, don't get me wrong. I didn't love all of them and I had my fair share of skipped afternoons and strolling in late, but for the most part I generally enjoyed learning "stuff".

Being in the education field, many of my professors told me it's best to wait on grad school until you have some field experience so you have some actual knowledge to back up all the crap in the book. So it's been a few years and it's time to roll out the red carpet for graduate school.

However, before I can picture myself submerged in the wonderful world of learning, Starbucks in hand, cute new academic wardrobe squarly set, I must overcome a couple obstacles.

Getting in being one. Taking the GRE being the other.

and this is where the whole "G.R.E. is the devil" idea comes into play.

I've been putting this test off for roughly 6 months now and I finally bit the bullet and registered for the end of August. This gives me approximately 2 months to study...so being being the stubborn and set-in-my-ways self that I am, I ignorantly skipped off to Borders to pick up some study books.

$59.95 later, I walked out with my two study guides the size of phonebooks, still feeling confident in my skills.

Until I opened the first one and tried to do the practice test...

holy.mother.of.hell. I. am. screwed.

16+ years of classes, exams and study sessions and I felt like a first grader studying for this.

So needless to say, the next two months will not be filled with visions of cardigans, corduroy and latte's on campus...instead, it will be filled with moments of absolute sheer panic, stress lines and random episodes of head banging against the table at the local starbucks.

stay tuned!