And so I say with learned helplessness in my voice and the back of my hand pressed to my forehead, "My life is so hard; I suffer so much."
I spent an excessive amount on time on my last few rolls of film, to the point where I neglected some of my studies. Every ounce of effort was for naught.
In the darkroom, I must assign one roll of film to one reel. Two reels make one tank. The room must be completely dark while I apply the film to the reels, until I get each tank securely shut so that no light can interrupt the process. Well. I was having such a pleasant time in the darkroom at school -- I'd gotten all four rolls into the reels and was just about to began putting them in the tanks when someone opened the door completely, exposing all of my film.
Regardless of the number of apologies I receive, my work was destroyed. It's rather unfortunate that I recognize it as an accident, else I'd have someone to blame and release my frustration on. Alas, I ranted to mother for some time about it and she and I came to an agreement:
As long as I pay for the chemicals for developing et. all out of my pocket and ask for no help, we'll have the second upstairs bathroom turned into my own personal darkroom and she'll buy the developing
equipment. She understands how much this means to me, and insists I call it a late birthday present.
I'm very excited -- this means I don't have to depend on the school's resources any longer. Thank you, mom. ♥
Current Mood: |
cheerful |