From Stephanie Meyer's New Moon, because I haven't YET come upon a quote that does teenage resignation better:
"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."
Above, after all our apartment ridiculousness, here is the stack of forms we filled out but didn't turn in for some appalling number of apartments. (Fewer than twenty.)
Above, calendar from last month.
Above, calendar for this month.
Above, other calendar.
Above, teaching myself Arabic letters to pass the time. So far I have committed to memory only the sh, s, t, and voiceless th sounds.
Above, this confounds me.
Even after watching numerous instructional YouTube videos and actually stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara wand, I haven't figured out how to use this without ending up looking like I have 6 eyelashes. At least it was free from that cosmetics settlement thing.
Above, the fact that I bought a lot of shoes within a few months of each other means everything is falling apart at the same time. (Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Hello, Mr. Yeats.)
Above, last look at my wall before I had a really painful time removing the tacks yesterday night.
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