Yes, that's right.
Recoil or guffaw all you like, this is my passport photo. The passport photo of shame. One of those dumb, unexpected times, such as when you are 20 years old, awkwardly trying to do something "different" with your hair--but what that really means is you have a haircut like an eight-year old kid in the 60s that mom accidentally dropped a bottle of bleach on. And taken on a morning when you hadn't even put makeup on (what were you thinking?!?) and are still bleary-eyed from sleep. That whole not-smiling thing is so lame, too, because I don't think I have ever affected this look of utter and laughable boredom ever before in my life. And here it is, slapped on a government document that I actually have to produce to people across official counters, from which they inevitably look back and forth at my real-life face and always struggle to find the connection (annoying, but thank god).
On the other hand, there is the page where Irish customs gave me an extra three months on my tourist visa inexplicably, but I'm led to believe it's because my hair is red.
Great news today: I received my official CAS (Confirmation of Acceptance for Studies) number from the University of Edinburgh, so once I get the amount of loans squared away, I am eligible to apply for my student visa in three days.
Days to Edinburgh move-in: 93