On suit conundrums and passport freakouts

I find it rather irrational that one of my biggest concerns and stress inducers right now is that I don't have a work-appropriate wardrobe. Business casual is kinda not my thing. It just feels kinda stale and un-cool. I can't really imagine myself in a suit or jacket, it's just so stiff and uncomfortable-looking. That being said, I think I'm going to do what I always do when it comes to rules - I'm going to bend them, slowly yet intently. If you start by pushing the boundaries little by little, it's amazing what you can get away with in the long run. Start with something as small as funky-coloured socks, end up with a far more relaxed attitude towards what counts as professional in the clothing department. Either that or I just Tilda Swinton this mofo and suit up to high fashion levels.

I spent last night hanging out with Knives Chau. First we were at the cafe where she's started working. We started after closing just hanging out lazily, when suddenly someone walks right in when I'm the only one sitting at the counter, eating the leftover perishables. In my surprise I go "Sorry, we're closed!", to which he kinda just looks at me and walks straight into the kitchen to talk to Knives. Hi Knives's boss! Oops. Great first impression. A long period of awkwardness ensued with Knives actually now needing to work and the boss doing shit. I didn't really know what to do, so I started reading to be out of the way and tried to look casual, like it was super normal that I should be there. It was weird.

Going to the bar to hang out was much better, where we got to talk about us both moving and what  we want to do with our lives. There I also realized that Knives will be going to Portugal to see Sand on Sunday, meaning that my Saturday party will be the last chance I have of seeing her. This makes me feel guilty in regards to my weeks of people dodging. I love Knives, she's the best, and I feel like I should've made more if an effort to hang out. That being said, Knives us the type of person who understands that you might want to be alone when life is kicking you in the balls.

There are so many 'lasts' in my life right now. Not that I get Graduation Goggles or anything, but I get sad, because I feel like whatever I do, it might be the last time I do it for a long time. I feel like I'm acting a bit like a dying person, or that I'm going through the stages of grief in response to my moving. Last time to see Knives. Last time to drink whiskey in that easy going bar. Last time walking to the Philosopher's place late at night, smelling the night air laced with the scent of flowers. I might not be dying, except in that Sylvia Plath way that we're all dying, but this part of my life certainly is, and I'm mourning for it. It's been rough, but it's also been good to me. I've felt a sense of belonging for the first time in a really long time, I think. Maybe I should get flowers and put them somewhere like you do on something's grave, but I don't know where that would be appropriate. I just hope that despite all the sadness, I'll be able to move on, and I hope that not all things will be lost with the death of this era. I'm beginning to feel tired of lasts. I wouldn't really mind some cool firsts at this point.

I didn't have too much time to reminiscence about lasts today though, as I got a phone call from the embassy. Apparently my passport wasn't deemed presentable enough, probably because I've used it as ID for the past... uh, since I got it, and it looks pretty badly beaten up. Like got-in-a-fight-with-a-grizzly-and-lost-beaten up. I hadn't even considered that to be a possibility. The little woman at the Japanese embassy was nice about it and all, but it lead me to having to make an appointment to get a new one in a panic. Swedish passports take around five working days to get, and I only have seven. Luckily, the little Japanese lady said that if I'd just give them the new passport right away, they would have my visa prepped and finished in a day, so I'm a hell of a lot calmer about the situation than I was at three in the afternoon when this whole thing hit the fan. It was rough, I tell you. The things I do to leave this country. I thought about calling mom mid-panic, but realized that she'd probably flip out worse than I was flipping out, and decided that since it was looking like things would sort themselves out, I'd be okay. I'll just pull my new passport out at the airport, and when they ask about it go: "Well, it's a funny story..." and then watch them freak out about how I almost didn't get my visa on account of my passport not being pretty enough.