Hmph.
You know what? Beijing weather is still so stupid. =___= It's too cold in the mornings and too hot in the afternoons. This is why I don't really like the weather here. We live in a giant bowl, so all the rain and weather is coming down on the mountains surrounding the area, so it's always dry and stupid.
My school is so annoying. They say it's a new rule that every single student has to learn how to play either flute or saxophone. My sister and I, since we go to the same school, cannot buy two instruments that we don't even want to learn! Too expensive. Way too expensive for me, but our school is not a school, it's a business designed to squeeze our pockets.
I drew a very good picture for English class. We're reading the book Dreaming in Cuban and our assignment was to draw a picture of an event that happened in the book. Mine was
"She laughed when she recalled her husband's burning face, the way he bolted to the door, his head a flaming torch. she played this memory over and over from different angles, like pieces of a torn photograph."
What I did was draw pictures of a guy with a flaming head from many different angles, then color, then tear the pictures apart, leaving big enough scraps to see what the picture was, still. I then glued them half to the base paper, so they looked like they'd just been resting on the page, but wouldn't fall off. Then, I used my thumb to create charcoal smudges on and around the "photos" and the surrounding area, and then drew the woman. (I'm not gonna say her name, because if you want to read this book it's a bit of a spoiler.)
I really liked this drawing. I thought it was pretty good, and my friends and teacher thought so too. My teacher even put it where everyone could see, in the middle of the cork board.
I was very happy.
After school, when I was passing my English room, I saw two little girls, probably about 11 or 12, standing in front of my picture, laughing, pointing at it, and saying some very nasty things about both me and my drawings.
Let's just say that they're lucky I had my friend to restrain me policeman-style, or those girls would have been made to eat their own hair, with courtesy of my scissors.
My school is so annoying. They say it's a new rule that every single student has to learn how to play either flute or saxophone. My sister and I, since we go to the same school, cannot buy two instruments that we don't even want to learn! Too expensive. Way too expensive for me, but our school is not a school, it's a business designed to squeeze our pockets.
I drew a very good picture for English class. We're reading the book Dreaming in Cuban and our assignment was to draw a picture of an event that happened in the book. Mine was
"She laughed when she recalled her husband's burning face, the way he bolted to the door, his head a flaming torch. she played this memory over and over from different angles, like pieces of a torn photograph."
What I did was draw pictures of a guy with a flaming head from many different angles, then color, then tear the pictures apart, leaving big enough scraps to see what the picture was, still. I then glued them half to the base paper, so they looked like they'd just been resting on the page, but wouldn't fall off. Then, I used my thumb to create charcoal smudges on and around the "photos" and the surrounding area, and then drew the woman. (I'm not gonna say her name, because if you want to read this book it's a bit of a spoiler.)
I really liked this drawing. I thought it was pretty good, and my friends and teacher thought so too. My teacher even put it where everyone could see, in the middle of the cork board.
I was very happy.
After school, when I was passing my English room, I saw two little girls, probably about 11 or 12, standing in front of my picture, laughing, pointing at it, and saying some very nasty things about both me and my drawings.
Let's just say that they're lucky I had my friend to restrain me policeman-style, or those girls would have been made to eat their own hair, with courtesy of my scissors.
Topic : Almost everyday life
Genre : Diary
