Good things, bad things.

Today wasn't too bad. I haven't really done much (despite having been in school for six hours, even teachers can't draw upon their deeply buried reserves of productivity on a Friday). I went out for a cycle; something I haven't done for a long time. I think I might start training properly again; it's pretty fun to see how fit you can get if you set yourself a goal.

So, open day tomorrow! Good thing. I'm looking forward to it. This one's at UWE, in Bristol (the city I live in), so not far to go to see the campus, and I'll feel a bit more at home than I did on some of the other open days I've been to (cough, cough, Edge Hill). The day starts at ten, so I plan to get up early, eat breakfast out, and then go and see the uni. I hear it's pretty good for Law; we shall see.

Point one about today.
I was walking home, as you do, and there was this girl behind me. I think she must have been on her way to paralysis, or death, or something...Perhaps she was bitten by a snake? Had she broken an ankle? Was she suffering from such muscular atrophy that it caused her to walk weird? Of course not. But STILL those feet, those feet I wanted so badly to turn around and stamp on, they were scraping against the ground as if she had one of the above afflictions. People, listen to me very carefully. If you are scraping your feet against the ground when you walk, either go see a doctor or CUT IT THE HELL OUT. It is annoying. It is frustrating. It is unnecessary. You see those weird bits halfway down your legs? They're called knees. Use them. Please. For the love of God. Walk properly, you absolute dolts.

Second point.
To quote Chris Addison (funny guy, youtube him), "you could be my soulmate, you and I could share everything and have endless meaningful conversations, [etc, etc,] but if you're wearing Ugg boots, you can fuck right off". This is true. They are called Uggs because they're ugly. They look awful. They make you look awful. Shoes should either have structure or be flip flops. Not be dead animal mush that has a foot-shaped hole in it. Thank you.

Third point.
Girls. Leggings are meant for wearing with either short shorts or skirts. You can't wear them on their own. We can see your VPL (visible panty line). They make you look highly unattractive. Unless you are participating in some kind of sport which calls for both flexibility and warmth (ice skating or some kind of messed up Antarctic gymnastics, perhaps), then you look like a douche. Especially when coupled with that weird way of standing that you do where you put almost all your weight on one leg. This doesn't make you look cool; quite the opposite. You look like some sort of idiotic flamingo that hasn't quite worked out how to pull its leg all the way up, OR just like one of your legs isn't in fully functioning order. But back to the leggings; either take 'em off and give guys the good view and not essentially a pirate copy, or wear somethng over them so it doesn't look like you've forgotten a piece of lower-body fabric that really should be there. Cheers.

I think that's my rant over for today. Apologies. Well, no, actually, no apologies. If you fall into one of the above categories, sort it out, because it makes you a twat of epic proportions.

Happy reading, folks!

High fives and can-can kicks all around!

Not only did I yesterday finish a ridiculous amount of homework (I'm not whining, the teacher actually apologised for it at the beginning of the lesson), but this morning I received note that I've been chosen to represent my schools (I go to two different sixth forms) by the Debating Society. Score one for me! I was tempted to high-five the teacher who told me, but I thought yelling a rather loud "YESSSS!" would suffice.

Apologies, dear readers, for not having informed you of the audition for said society on Monday, but I wasn't completely sure I'd be accepted and therefore thought that to jaunt was to flaunt too early in the game. Had I not gotten the place, I would have had to explain why, etc., etc. hence my silencio on this little matter.

Secondly, I've cut my hair again. I like it better short as it's easier to deal with (not very short, obviously; I don't want an afro!) especially in the winter when a little bit of neck-coverage is important to keep out those nasty chilly breezes.

I'm in love with four-colour pens and big coats at the moment. I don't go well with wool and fluffy bits, though, but I do have a stunning winter coat. For any girls or guys out there who don't have at least one coat that falls almost at the knees, you don't know what you're missing. I love that coat with a passion I didn't know it was possible to have for anything other than hot, considerate guys and chocolate. You can quote me on that.

However, it has been so darn hot in England today, that there's no need for a coat. Or a top. I walked home in a shirt and bra today (and jeans, yes). It's ridiculous; my body is gearing up for the winter and then this happens?! I thought I was going to turn into some sort of melanoma-riddled prune at any moment! What a great travesty English weather is. We complain when it's hot, or when it's cold, and when it's raining, we always talk about it. SHUT UP. It happens all the time (note my terrible hippocrisy laid out bare for you all to see)!

Secondly, revision tip: find your favourite learning method, people! It really helps your memory. Alternatively, improve that noggin of yours by joining lumosity (google it) and having a go on there. If nothing else, it's a fun and possibly pseudo-constructive way to procrastinate.

If you're having trouble with procrastination methods and tricks, go to this website and have fun.

It's elemental, my dear...What, son?

You can all chide me for terrible title, but I think it's funny so tough stuff. There is a point to it, actually. If I'm completely honest, over the years there have been a few people I call my close friends, and they've stayed with me, but quite seriously a lot of the people I know just aren't that interesting. It's not that nothing happens, I'm sure lots of things happen to them that they find interesting; it's just more that the things they find interesting, I find boring. So, perhaps they're more acquaintances than friends.
Anyway, one friend I've kept in contact with is 22 23 8 3 (look at the title and figure it out if you can). We got along for ages and then there was this long break when 22 23 (for short) got into trouble with drugs and alcohol. Anyway, it seems she's out of that phase, which is great because she was such a lovely person before, she just made some daft choices and that led her down a treacherous path. Thank god she fell off it, though. I talked to her today and she sounds better.

Anyway, yesterday I was walking home and I saw 22 23's older brother (the older older one, not the younger older one). He's much more focused on work now as well, and it's nice to see that a year or two makes such a huge impact on somebody's life. Of course it does. Even catatonic people must experience some tiny fragment of change over two years.

I've been wondering for a while whether I want children (totally unrelated subject to the above), and what kind of lifestyle I want to lead. What do I want to do? Will I get married? Will I have children? What will I be doing in ten years' time? Will I be happy? I think that's my main worry. It's not what I'll have, it's whether I'll appreciate it. I see so many people here in England who spend their time complaining... Of course, sometimes bad things happen and you can feel a little down, but most of the time I think it's much better to see the good side. Walk away from depression. It doesn't have legs, it'll take a very long time for it to catch up with you if you're content.

I'm still reading this cracking book (The Vampire Lestat) by Anne Rice. I've also fallen even more in love with a band I'm interested in. If you don't already know them, I highly suggest you youtube Rizzle Kicks. Sylvester and Rizzle are amazing (not their real names, I'm sure you've guessed). They mix rapping, remixes, instrumentals of well-known tracks, and singing. They are ACE.

Not particularly good if you want to concentrate on homework though. I have a classical music playlist for that.

Questions welcome on any aspect of this post or any other post, as always. I doubt I mentioned it before, but I like questions.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. I'm trying to work out what my worst habit is. I'll report back when I find it.

Recklessness and stupidity

I've realised a lot of things about myself in the last week or so. Firstly, I really need to start going to the gym again, because I've developed a liking for burgers. I refuse not to eat the things I like, so to make up for it, I make sure I'm doing enough exercise. I'm no slob.

Secondly, I just can't talk to guys. This will bug me for a long time now. The thing is, once they know you like them, it's alright, because you're not a total idiot all the time (well you are but they at least know why). I'm not doing well so far.

Thirdly, if I don't do homework, no matter what I'm doing I do get a bit bored eventually. Which kind of sucks. Today I had the fucked up experience priviledge of having to restart a piece of homework after an hour's work, because I hadn't read the question properly. Sometimes I hate myself enough to restrict chocolate. Turns out, the essay wasn't on criminal liability, it was... Well, the title is "The term recklessness plays a vital role in determining criminal liability, yet its meaning appears uncertain. Critically analyse the meaning of the term recklessness in criminal law".

That is painful.

Fourthly, school takes it outta me. I'm dying. I'm so tired every weekday evening, sometimes I go to bed at nine. I find myself looking at the clock at seven thirty and thinking, "Would it be socially acceptable to say goodnight now?" Of course it wouldn't. I refuse to go to bed that early unless I'm ill. Unfortunately (or not, depending on how you look at it), I am almost never ill. I wish I were ill a little more often; it's so peaceful in my room during the day. There is, however, one major problem with sleeping when it's light outside. I can't. I like my room to be as close to pitch black as is possible before I sleep. I unplug everything except my alarm clock, and I plan to unplug that too once my bodyclock wakes me up at seven every morning. I'm looking forward to not relying on technical what-nots to wrench me from sugarplum dreams; I want to be capable of doing that myself.

I've been wanting a bit of change for a while now; I think I'll cut my hair soon. I know it's getting towards winter, but trust me, with this amount of head fluff, hats are difficult to find. Ones that fit comfortably, at least. Currently it's shoulder length. Dark, dark red. With a blonde streak (I was testing the dye for a friend. It blonded my hair more in ten minutes than it did hers in an hour and a half). I got completely rid of my old computer. SWEET! So much more room on my desk for porn mags homework and school books.

I'm going to go to bed, you know. Sorry for the boring post. To make up for it, watch this. It's hilarious :D

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. I'm loving this cross-through thing, useful. I could have a lot of fun with it... And I probably will.

Four random suggestions

So, I posted a status on Facebook, tagging a friend and telling her I would write about a genre she suggested. Three people answered, and argued, and came to the four keywords I have to write about now. Which are pretty difficult.

I got Romance, numbers, cats, and pregnancy.

Right.

So I've looked up some cross-subjects to make it a bit more intriguing. Did you know that cats have a maximum gestational period (the time they are pregnant for) of 69 days? BAM! The average is about 63 days. I doubt cats are very romantic. I mean, sure, they look all sleek and feline, but nobody's special if everybody is...Right? I mean, imagine two cats going on a date. You've got your tuna, your cream, maybe for a show they'd watch two chickens fight to the death or something... It would be awesome. I still doubt cats have romance in the same way as humans do. I mean, for one thing, you know if you get pregnant and you're a cat that you're going to have more than one teeny tiny yowling mouth to feed...but it costs you nothing. Cats don't work much. They can chill with their friends and parents and generally do what they want. Most cats prefer to be alone, so I can't see long-term relationships working.

Back to the cats dating thing, though... What do they say? Do cats have pickup lines? Are they all, "Yo, baby, you're looking sleek!" or do they say things like "Nice whiskers!" to get another cat's attention? Do they high-five? (answer is yes, lots) ...There are many possibilities we have to think about here.

Anyway, real human pregnancy is pretty rough too. Much longer than catnancy (yes, I deem it a new word, the latin for which is felinus pregnatus), human pregnancy usually lasts about 40 weeks, or nine months. Catnancy is closer to nine weeks. I would rather have catnancy, because at the end you get this adorable cute little fluffy thing. Usually two or more, actually. In fact, up to eight.

I want a cat, mainly because they're independent, and mainly because I watch loads of videos of them doing stupid and funny things. But I want a microcat. I guess, if they were real, they'd be the same sort of idea/concept as micropigs, only fluffier and more miaowy. Yes, miaowy.

But, ah, romance! To find someone you enjoy spending time with, you feel safe with, that person you can talk to about almost anything, and laugh with even when things are going truly terribly. It'd be nice to find someone like that, but also my grades would swiftly decline from their currently lofty position, I reckon. Still, though, I'm sure there are guys out there (or girls, if you're a straight male or a gay female) who will make it worthwhile.

Note, due to my common sense, and having watched such movies as "The Ugly Truth", I would say that creating a list of criteria is NOT the idea. Stop designing your other half, you freaks. Let it happen the way it happens. People who are over-particular really limit themselves. I'm limiting myself to this: must be smart, must not be lazy. I think that's pretty good. I reckon cats probably have those same ideals.

Oh god, I'm going to be a cat lady when I'm older, I can feel it now. At least we'll have good miaowversations. (Damn, I'm good.)

Some more numbers...

36, the number of weeks we are in school in a typical year.
17, my age (and my shoe size plus eight)
11, the age of my favourite cousin.
5, the numnber of times I have dyed Aggie's hair.
168, the hours in a week.
3, the number of subjects I'm taking this year.
3, the number of children I want (a long time into the future!)
2, the grazes I have at the moment.
180, the number of tests I have to mark tomorrow.
136, the number of red noses in my room.
54, the number of barbies I had up until I was abut twelve.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. You can comment and suggest other genres if you like.

You know what really grinds my gears?

We've been back at school for two weeks now. I have to say, though there's a lot of work, it's enjoyable. There's a sense of routine and accountability that you completely don't have in the holidays. I think that, considering this will be my fourteenth consecutive year in full-time education, I'm starting to feel lost when I'm not learning, when I'm not in the classroom.

That being said, there are some things that really grind my gears about being back at school. Such as, you're able to see your friends on a regular basis (obviously not 100% good from a work point of view), but there are people at school who... Well, frankly, whom I would have killed a long time ago, if I knew I'd never be found out. Having observed the workings of a school system from both sides (I have done quite a few teaching placements with different year groups), it's perfectly fair to say that students are total cocks. We seem to endlessly insist that thigns for us are done first. We always want our way. We don't take no for an answer. We bug and bug and bug.

The main problem area I've come across this year is the student who asks stupid, blatent questions to which there are obvious answers, and then goes berserk if the answer given is not to that student's liking. There is a fine line between annoying banter, dear student, and behaviour which will seriously endanger your life. I wish someone could have taught you your grammar better as well. I never want to hear the words "you was" come out of your mouth ever EVER again. God, you'd think you hadn't been listening all the way through primary school.

I'm hoping you've all heard of socialisation. If not (tut, tut) then the quick explanation is that socialisation is the process through which an individual learns how to fit into society and live within the boundaries of that society's norms and values. Your parents are responsible for your primary socialisation- that is, they socialise you to talk and not to (putting it bluntly) do such things as piss on others. Anyway, I stray from the point.

My point is, there seem to be students in the sixth form who simply were not socialised by parents or school or society. They stand out. They are notorious, famous, popular because they are interesting, intereting because they do stupid things that others find funny. These students have bad attitudes.

I don't mind it if you don't want to work, but please don't stop me. I really need good grades. All I want to do is work, ice skate, and write my blog (and somewhere in between some food and rest, those are good too). So yeah. That really grinds my gears. We have a fine educational system, for free, and these kids are wasting it. I wish they wouldn't.

On a lighter note, there have been no more gigantic spiders in my room! YAYS! Though now I've said that, the chances are there'll be a King Spidey moment in a day or two. I've run out of energy; goodnight!

Happy reading, folks!

Eight - legged eeks!

So, I have a big piece of work due in tomorrow on omissions in Law. I've been writing it for about a week and as I've written it I've created a references page and everything to go along with it. Well, tonight, I was doing exactly that (fine tuning takes about six hurs or so) and I decided to do it in my room.
Now, last night I was writing on a bit of paper in here and I made a mistake, so I screwed it up and threw it on the floor. Like you should. And of course, it was still there this evening. I bet you're thinking that piece of paper continued to be useless, no? Well, no. No, this paper saved me tonight. It provided a vital alarm: the ArachAlarm!
So there I was, typing away like my happy nerdy little self, in silence (save for the clicky-click of my keyboard) and what should I hear but this strange little noise at my feet? What could it be? Well, I'll tell you, it was the most fucking ma-HOOOOOOsive spider I have ever seen in England, save from in the zoo. But I wasn't thinking this at the time, no, not at all. Indeed, what I was actually thinking was "Holy shit, where's the nearest glass?" and seconds later, "FUCKING HELL THAT BASTARD MOVES LIKE A LITTLE EIGHT-LEGGED BULLSEYE!"

The eek-attracter, this huge intruder, this offending arachnid with visible eyes and thick legs with hair as long as my eyelashes, it stopped in front of my wardrobe. I thought that finally one giant beastie might be easy to catch. But, it had two leggies underneath the wardrobe already, and I could tell he was a teasie beastie. Bastard, bastard beastie. Teasing me, this horrific eight-legged eek ran under my wardrobe. I called in back-up in the form of my twelve-year-old kind of sister. Aside from giggling a lot at my obvious terror, she also resorted to making comments such as, "Wow, his legs are reeeeeally long..." to lighten the mood. I told her I'd formed a plan. All this time, I'd been thinking, though. I'd had on my mind that any spidie-widie large enough to crumple paper under-hideous-foot was probably a little big and burly to be messing with using the conventional methods.

The plan meant taking apart my chest of drawers and moving it away from the wardrobe, therefore giving the beastie a faux chance to escape. After half an hour of grunting and moving heavy furniture on my part (there's a bookcase on the chest of drawers), the bastard made a break for it... straight into a glass. My terror... it was mixed with pride. I had not screamed once! I am still proud. I did swear a lot.

This is the third or fourth spider in my room of this size (I think this one was the king though, as it was a lot bigger than then previous one I caught). I like to think I am becoming more equipped to deal with them; I always have a glass, I always have my shoes on, and my room is tidy (usually) so I can see them from a distance. This one nearly got me; the adrenaline rush was the only saviour my body gave me. The thing to remember, folks, is that fight is better than flight in these cases, becuse if you fly and then come back and it's not there anymore, that's a shame. A shame because either you will have to put
your house on the market, or simply board off that room (and any with connecting doors).

These eight-legged eeks cannot win this war! They should not! We are hundreds, thousands of times their size! And yet they are terrifying. Did you know most people fear spiders more than they fear death?

For those of you who need someone else who knows (or those of you who save us all the time and shock us with your amazingness when you pick up spiders in your BARE hands- a wonderful trick and talent!), clicky here. I swear to you, I love this because it defines me quite well- certainyl in Autumn when more eekies come into the house (due to deteriorating weather- they hate rain even mroe than you do) and I have to deal (or scream and run) accordingly.

This is the last spider, about a week or two ago. The one tonight was about one and a half times this size... To be honest, I didn't keep the first one, so I can't check. Let's just say, the one today left me literally almost unable to form words.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. This is my bedroom after tonight's little incident.

Fatal Considerations of the craziest kind

Aside from growing up making the majority of us taller, heavier and in many cases more immature (the gained knowledge can only work to a perverse advantage sometimes), there are other things we adolescents have to deal with. Such as Sod's Law.

This bastard of a concept mjust have been spawned by the devil. Basically, for those of you who do not know, the concept that Sod's Law summarises is "if it can go wrong, it will". So be it that I'm a negative thinker from time to time.

Back in May, we were preparing for our AS exams, perhaps working hard... perhaps hardly working. I joked to some friends that I'd probably mess up for no reason other than sheer bad luck. Well, it just transpired that I was to nearly expire the week before we started examinations. I chucked myself off my bike; onto grass, yes, so perhaps not the worst strategy, but certainly not the wisest. In the fall, I lost my glasses, some of the free movement in my neck, and also a nice purple hoodie I had come to treasure. The paramedics were lovely, though, and friendly. And they didn't slap me when I got all woozy. Anyway, I ended up with a concussion, the repercussions of which were that I had to somewhat re-learn much of my courses. Which would have been wonderful if I had not accidentally forgotten an entire half of the Politics book. I got an E.

Anyway, Sod's Law cropped up again a couple of weekends back when I was going to attend a Law course. Planning to leave the house at five a.m. on Saturday, I did a cursory check of how my laptop was working. I came to a rather downtrodden conclusion that, as it completely failed to start, and then kept coming up with error messages saying FATAL! FATAL!... It wasn't going to work too well. I spent two hours fixing it.

The next morning, my mother and I got on the train. The wrong train. Hence, we missed our train (upside: the one destined for Taunton, and not London, didn't leave with us on it). We got on a half-hour later one. That one left just fine, and arrived just fine. The PreLaw course was good; I got there with time to spare, learnt a lot, and left with interesting information to mull over.

We went for a bit of upmarket banter and had a chat in Harrods. Everything was expensive; but of course, it being London, it was awesome too. Then we went for dinner. Overnight I went from fine to absolutely fucked-up ill. Every couple of hours I would wake up and retch for a bit, and then go back to sleep. The Sunday morning was awful, I was in a terrible mood... The rest of the weekend passed without event, but the night was just crap.

Back to the present, this morning my neck and back were hurting (the result of the bike crash and a couple of car crashes I've had in the past). I left the house quickly, and walked quickly... Obviously I began to overheat a little, due to the heavy bag and the hoodie and coat I had on. I took off the coat and the bag, to put the former in the latter. It was at this point that I realised the bag wasn't my school bag. I had no books. Shit. Almost in tears from the neck pain, now standing halfway between school and home, I thought "fuck it".

Having done this, I went through lessons (only with partial success) and then broke my brace at lunch. My teeth fucking hurt. I'm tired. The two redeeming factors of today were accidentally having spare keys in this wrong bag I took to school... And the book I was given for my birthday, which I am reading at the moment. "The Vampire Lestat". AMAZING book. Anne Rice is a literary goddess and her stories provide me with much time-filling brilliance. Well-plotted, well written, with flair and general awesomeness. I might even start thinking positively!

Happy reading, folks!

Aaaaaand BACK to the future!

So basically before the holidays we were doing a lot of stuff at school to prepare us for university, for having to apply to university, for alternative options, etc. etc. (i.e. THA FYOOOTYAHHHH) and we had to fill in UCAS forms online, including where we wanted to apply and for what course (and so on and so forth). I did mine pretty early, got most of it done by July 25th (except the personal statement bit and some other stuff) and then I got the WHOOP WHOOP ONCE IN A LIFETIME invite to go to UCL (in Laaandaaan!) for a couple days, for Law, my favouritest subject in the whole wide world aside from ice skating (okay so favourite academic subject). So, I'm going there tomorrow. It's to prepare for the Law course at uni and the LNAT I'm also going to take to get into a couple of the unis who want it. Not all do. It is the National Aptitude Test for Law; obviously I'm hoping to pass with flying colours.

There is, however, a catch. Well, kind of two. A) I have to get up early tomorrow morning - so I should really reeeeally be asleep right now... five fifteen, baby. Ooh yeah. I like the smell of a painful awakening in the morning... ugh. B) it's the weekend before we go back to school- I usually spend this weekend chilling out, instead of spending lots of money to go to Laandaan (woo!) and stay in a swanky hotel with my muzzer, as she insisted upon accompanying me. C) (added erkness) I have to wear a skirt. Now, while I like my legs all that much (okay not THAT much), it's gonna be bloody freezing and I doubt there will be large quantities of cream of chicken soup to ease the pain. Mllluurrgrhhh...

So yeah. Five fifteen. It's quarter past midnight now... so I have five hours. Wh-- Oh, sod it. Goodnight folks, and happy reading!

Accumulation of timetable

Well, I've got my timetable. I had to decode part of it, not pleased but I got there in the end. I have double German first thing on a Monday morning- the only thing that is really annoying on the whole two week schedule, really. Nine out of ten days I finish at one, which is good because it gives me plenty of time to go out and do other things (besides the huge amount of homework I know I will have). I'm pleased, I never have more than four hours of school in a day. Well, I will, much more, but most of it won't be structured class learning. For sociology our class is quite large, as well as for Law, but German has a maximum of six on a good day so there's lots of time to make sure work is of a high quality.

I'm truly glad that we start school soon, because I'm over bored. I did some more drawing...

I also did a Codeword. I love codewords, there's barely any way to cheat (barely) so they take a while, which is the entire point. I'm still trying to fill time. The drawing does this as well, because I don't want to be doing things that are half-assed. I've made a small wall montage out of some of my artwork.

So there you have it... My not-so-interesting life for today. Oh, yes, the news! UpstairsMan actually managed to not have sex last night. I was shocked and in awe of his sudden restraint...considering he's been bloody loud every evening for the last week or so. Happy days.

Also, I was unintentionally very rude to someone today. Now wondering how to make it up to her (apparently spoke in the wrong tone of voice). She was really pissed off.

Happy reading, folks!

Time filling

I've taken to time filling. For those of you who don't know (most of you, I guess) I barely passed my Art GCSE. I can't draw observationally. Not well, at least. And I can't imitate other artists' styles, which is what they asked us to do. Don't think I was idiotic to take the course if I so blatently couldn't do all the things we tried to complete for classwork and coursework... I actually signed up for ceramics, but we somehow ended up with the wrong teacher - one who wasn't qualified to let us play with clay, as I so kindly put it. This teacher and I didn't get on at all, to be quite frank. I went to a maximum of thirty percent of those lessons. For most of that thirty percent I messed around. It was great, honestly.

So, to prove to you I can draw (somewhat, they're kind of little designs I do when I'm bored but have paper and the right equipment to hand) I'm going to put up some images of the stuff I did today.

So yes, there you go. The last photo, with the three boxes, has what I call a "feathered" effect. It takes about five minutes to do a box, and they're about three or so centimetres high and a centimetre wide. I love being able to just sit at a blank piece of paper and draw things like this; I'll try and put up more pictures of some of my older work. Today I started using a cotton bud (pic. 1) and very sharp rubber (cut off larger slab, picture 1) to help with blending and precision. They're very useful, though you have to be careful with the amount of graphite you use because it goes REALLY far on the bud! I use one end of the bud to sweep graphite on (so I load it first) and the other to sweep it off (creates a softer, lighter lookk without using the eraser). I had fun.

Happy reading, folks!

P.S. School tomorrow, kind of. We'll be getting our timetables. I hope they're not killers. I shall voice my contentedness (or lack thereof) tomorrow...