04 October 2007

Master of My Universe

I am a Master.

No, not that kind of master from the Seinfeld episode, but the real kind. No, not the kinky bondage kind, the academic kind. The post-graduate-degree kind.

Even though I finished my last class at the end of June, updated my resume in July, and officially graduated in August (we skipped the ceremony because it was right during The Monkey's most sacred Time of the Nap, a time we don't fuck with), I didn't really feel done-done until today, when my diploma came in the mail. I had to sign for it because it was sent certified. It's super fancy, much fancier than my undergraduate or high school diplomas, and arrived in a lovely blue padded diploma-holder-folder thing.

The thing is, I don't really know what to do with it. Its current position on our dining room table, along with a pile of mail and grocery coupons, isn't a long-term solution. I don't have an office outside of our house to hang it in (I switched jobs within my company and now work out of our basement family room/office space) and I don't actually work in a job in my master's degree field.

I guess it's going to become Another Thing on a Shelf (subset: In a Cabinet) and that's a little depressing. Depressing because of a) how much money we spent on my degree, b) the fact that I don't have a job in my field yet (have I mentioned that lately?), and c) how much fucking money we spent on my degree. I know there are things I should be doing to try to find a new job (besides thinking, "I need a new job") but the last position I applied for, interviewed three times for, and that seemed absolutely perfect for me in every single way was such a let-down when I didn't get hired (cue generic rejection letter) that my motivation has taken a vacation to Hawaii and brought my enthusiasm along with it. Maybe I should go to Hawaii and join them. A beach sounds great right about now.


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