On administrative disasters and death

Man, job hunting ain't easy. I received a crazy four page application thingie for one of the jobs I applied for. I was almost a little surprised that they didn't ask for my star sign or blood type or favorite breakfast cereal. Talk about being thorough. They required two letters of reference though, at least one from an employer, and that makes me a little bit nervous. I can probably get a letter of recommendation from one of my teachers, but asking Karate Husband to write me something is just about the scariest thing ever. Maybe I should ask his wife? She's the one in charge of the staff after all, and she likes me. Not that she ever called me 'little fishie', but she's always really kind to me, so I guess I've got that going for me anyway. Strangely the rest of the staff don't seem to like her all that much. It would seem that the staff and I have pretty different ideas of our bosses in general. Probably because they've all worked there for far longer than I have. Ah well. As long as I get my reference it's all good.

Sorry Karate Husband, the little fishie needs a bigger bowl.

I talked to Mafune and asked her if she thought I could ask Karate Husband or Karate Wife to write a letter of recommendation for me. She looked really uncomfortable for a second, during which time my brain went "Oh my god, I knew this was a bad idea", but then she told me to write it myself, and she'd translate it and then someone from the Karate family would sign it. "They don't have time to write one themselves, but they like you, so they'll sign." After the initial rush of happiness and gratitude ("Aww, they like me! For real!"), I was filled with a sense of shame. Why am I essentially spying on people who like me? Because that's kinda what I'm doing when I'm running around playing detective. Karate Husband may have one of the most interesting backgrounds I've ever come across, but is it really cool that I'm digging into it like some sort of hyena? Even if I'm curious, is that enough of a reason? I don't know. I need to give it some thought.

I handed in my papers for getting my degree last Friday, and I got an email from the administration on Monday (which I found today) saying that they'd handle it, but that it will take fucking five to eight weeks to get the stupid piece of paper. "They're really busy," the student counselor said. Fuck being busy, how can it take five to eight weeks to process a piece of paper when every single credit required is already in the system and has been since fucking June? Seriously, it's ridiculous. I was thinking three or four weeks tops, feeling generous, but this is just about the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I guess there's nothing to really do about it, but it's not going to stop me from bitching angrily to anyone that will listen. Shit.

Yeah, fuck you, Architecture school!

I'm mostly pissed at myself really. I've had the opportunity to go hand in all the papers for months, but I didn't. I guess I only have myself to blame. Then again, I think it's unfair to be punished like this for just avoiding a place that I associated with nothing more than horrible anxiety and unhappiness. It was all I could do at the time. But yeah, this whole thing makes me feel like everthing kinda sucks a little today. I can't even really revel in the fact that it's Friday, because I have to come into work again tomorrow. It's only for four hours, but it's still probably until closing.

The day did end pretty nicely with Moonlight coming by work and us going to get a beer. As sometimes happens he started talking about dreams, and how important it is to have goals. "If you died tomorrow, would you be happy with where you are?" he said, trying to hammer in the point that we should do something every day that makes us happy. I tried kissing him right then and there in the bar, because if I'm dying tomorrow I want to do things that make me happy. He pulled back pretty violently and I felt really embarrassed, but then he went in for a nice long one after he finished a monologue on future goals I was only half listening to, as I was busy fidgeting on my shirt feeling rejected and awkward. After that, order and peace was restored to the world. I appreciate that he's not the clingy type the way Hemingway was, but I'm just really not used to the total aversion for public displays of affection. It's not really my thing either, but when you're faced with a scenario involving death, wouldn't you want to end life on a high note?