My last entry and this one are home-learning tasks set by our teacher. What we have to do is describe a person we know quite well (e.g. a parent) without describing their physical attributes. You aren't just supposed to tell people about them, though, you're meant to make they reader feel as if they know them. It is actually quite challenging. I didn't totally get it in my first attempt. I was more describing our relationship, and what she is like as a mother. I don't really think of her as a person, you know. Mum is what she is to me. But this time we had to describe a good friend, and this is what I did.
I walk with her to and from school nearly everyday, and we never run out of things to say. It almost seems as if we have our own language, because we talk so fast and seem to know what the other is feeling. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her (she can seriously maim you with a pen if she wants to) because her temper can flare and she can get feisty. She hands out on the hot rod scene with the best of 'em, but is also a graceful and talented dancer. She'll laugh at an inside joke from years ago, and laugh into hysteria right by your side. She's the sort of person who will come over to your house just to straighten your hair. She listens to everyone one of the million things I have to say. She takes on my obsessions, (she'll now forever be annoyed by grammar errors) and she will run around in the blazing heat just because you wanted to join the cross country team. But sometimes our words aren't even needed; we can share opinions and agree on things with just a glance. We've never fought in all the years we've known each other.
Ma amie. My comrade. My chum. My friend.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Home-Learning Task
Her voice is the first thing I hear in the morning. I blink bleary-eyed at her as she says, 'Morning, love,'.
She's my mum, and she can make everything alright. She knows me inside out, at times convincing me she knows more about me than I do. The sounds of her footsteps late at night is the most reassuring of lullabies. The light drifting from her studio in the kitchen like a night light is as comforting as her sitting at the end of my bed. Her arms wrapping me into a hug take me to a safe place, from where I will emerge more positive. The scent of turpentine and wet paint creates a picture of her in my mind. She makes sure I do not immerse myself solely in the logic side of life. The way she looks at the world, the pure creativity and talent that she possesses, encourages and challenges me, helping me grow as surely as the orchids she tends to and adores. For someone I have spent my entire life with, describing her is proving to be an almost impossible task. What can I tell you? She is my home. She is the epitome of love and comfort, strength and safety and nurture. She is my mother.
She's my mum, and she can make everything alright. She knows me inside out, at times convincing me she knows more about me than I do. The sounds of her footsteps late at night is the most reassuring of lullabies. The light drifting from her studio in the kitchen like a night light is as comforting as her sitting at the end of my bed. Her arms wrapping me into a hug take me to a safe place, from where I will emerge more positive. The scent of turpentine and wet paint creates a picture of her in my mind. She makes sure I do not immerse myself solely in the logic side of life. The way she looks at the world, the pure creativity and talent that she possesses, encourages and challenges me, helping me grow as surely as the orchids she tends to and adores. For someone I have spent my entire life with, describing her is proving to be an almost impossible task. What can I tell you? She is my home. She is the epitome of love and comfort, strength and safety and nurture. She is my mother.
People Aren't Made to Fly
We are doing Creative Writing this term in English. In our lesson today, our teacher, Ms. Wilson, told us why we do this topic and why it is so important. Creative writing is so important because it deals with being able to express yourself and, ultimately, being able to write in an effective manner. No matter what career you chose, during the course of getting the appropriate qualifications, you'll need to be able to write. You have to be able to explain yourself.
I realise all branches of English deals with those things in some way, but creative writing is a particularly interesting medium to do so. It pushes you (it certainly pushes me), because there are no concrete rights and wrongs. And topics can be as diverse and endless as your imagination.
Creative writing is good for getting things out (i.e. emotions, opinion, ideas) and also useful for preserving special experiences and memories.
A point that Ms. Wilson really stressed was the need to make the reader feel as if they are there. To accomplish that you have to be able to effectively and fluently translate the ideas and thoughts in your mind into words. You need to use the right syntax, wording, punctuation, and vocabulary to pull the reader to a place where what the words are representing exist, where they are not just letters on a page. So, as you can see, it is a very important branch of English.
Subsequently, we now have to post at least one piece of creative writing a week on our blogs.
I think this will be interesting because you will be able to see how you improve over the course of the term.
Today we were shown a photo of a man flying through the air with his bike in tow. The caption below instructed us to write a story imaging we were the person on the bike. It was interesting to see everyone's different takes on it. It should be aruond 250 words, our teacher said, and this story is 343. But as that guy wrote in that letter; I would have written less, had I had the time.
People Aren't Made to Fly
I realise all branches of English deals with those things in some way, but creative writing is a particularly interesting medium to do so. It pushes you (it certainly pushes me), because there are no concrete rights and wrongs. And topics can be as diverse and endless as your imagination.
Creative writing is good for getting things out (i.e. emotions, opinion, ideas) and also useful for preserving special experiences and memories.
A point that Ms. Wilson really stressed was the need to make the reader feel as if they are there. To accomplish that you have to be able to effectively and fluently translate the ideas and thoughts in your mind into words. You need to use the right syntax, wording, punctuation, and vocabulary to pull the reader to a place where what the words are representing exist, where they are not just letters on a page. So, as you can see, it is a very important branch of English.
Subsequently, we now have to post at least one piece of creative writing a week on our blogs.
I think this will be interesting because you will be able to see how you improve over the course of the term.
Today we were shown a photo of a man flying through the air with his bike in tow. The caption below instructed us to write a story imaging we were the person on the bike. It was interesting to see everyone's different takes on it. It should be aruond 250 words, our teacher said, and this story is 343. But as that guy wrote in that letter; I would have written less, had I had the time.
People Aren't Made to Fly
This was it. Those three words pounded in time with my racing heartbeat, a frantic mantra, reminding me of all that had led to this moment. I raised my eyes to the heavens, not in a gesture of last minute faith, but to admire the sky of unnaturally incandescent blue.
I eventually pulled my eyes back to reality; back to now. Fear lurched within me.
My gaze kept falling, traveling down the steep and ruthless hill.
What had I gotten myself into?
The crowd that had gathered was getting restless. The had come here to see a coward or a hero, they didn’t care which. But what about the other option? What about that high chance of a painful and shaming demise? Your bones shattering on the pavement...
Whatever happened, it was too late now. Either way, I’d still be known as The Guy Who Didn’t Do It.
My mouth felt bone-dry. I desperately needed to breathe. I couldn't fly off a ramp at high speed if I couldn’t breathe. Okay. In. Out. There’s no time like the present.
Suddenly the wind was knocked out of me and was soaring around me. The ramp was getting closer by the second. I was so close to being dead broke, I could not afford to hesitate.
Then I was flying, flying; instinct and practice taking control. Time was traveling unusually fast, or maybe that was just me. Then, as abruptly as it had begun I was falling. Everything around me was rushing to the surface but I was I was going down.
My hands absorb shockwaves as my bike bounces on the road. I grit my teeth against the pain.
The road is real and unforgiving beneath me, but it doesn't seem like it's there. My mind is still flying in the sky above me.
It comes to me slowly, as if from a far-off distance. The sounds of cheering and applause hesitantly reaches my shell-shocked, but very alive, form hunched on my bike. It was done.
And I was The Guy Who Did It.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
First Rehearsal
Yesterdaywas our first rehearsal for the school production, Alice in Wonderland. It went from ten on the rainy morning of Sunday until two that rainy afternoon. To be honest with you, it wasn't that thrilling. The auditorium was freezing; I was so cold it was actually starting to hurt my poor digits and limbs.
If you hadn't gathered the fact by now, I got a part in the play, I am Gardener number 1.
I have one line or so, but I am in that same scene for longer, involved in non-speaking ways. I also am in the finale. I don't want to say too much about it, but this version of Alice is different to any I have ever seen before. It's quite quick, in comparison to the movie, and straight forward, so I'm not that worried it won't be ready to perform at the end of this term.
I am quite glad now that I got a small part, so I can get the experience and build my involvement over the next few years.
I think this version makes one of the concepts of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland very clear and understandable, which I like. After I heard the line that applies to it, I suddenly clicked, I hadn't realised that moral was hidden in this story.
Speaking of firsts, today we started term two. I hadn't seen seven am in two weeks, so it felt very strange walking to school this morning, cold and bundled up in my jumper, when I really should have been asleep. We had P.E. first period, during the first part of which I was understandably lethargic. We were walking the cross country track, and the cold water underfoot and refreshing breeze woke me up. It was weird going to back to school, but happenings of familiar change are usually so, if that makes sense. This day was a long one, so maybe it has affected me in a way I wasn't aware of, i.e., I'm so tired I'm not making any sense. I guess I should conclude this entry, before I confuse you and myself too much. I am glad to be back at school. Even though the holidays are fun, being completely lazy gets old and boring eventually; you need the busy days, early mornings, and hard work to make you appreciate those days.
I guess that's it from me today, though it's probably counted as tonight, as it is 6.25 pm and there is not one ounce of sun in the sky.
Goodnight.
If you hadn't gathered the fact by now, I got a part in the play, I am Gardener number 1.
I have one line or so, but I am in that same scene for longer, involved in non-speaking ways. I also am in the finale. I don't want to say too much about it, but this version of Alice is different to any I have ever seen before. It's quite quick, in comparison to the movie, and straight forward, so I'm not that worried it won't be ready to perform at the end of this term.
I am quite glad now that I got a small part, so I can get the experience and build my involvement over the next few years.
I think this version makes one of the concepts of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland very clear and understandable, which I like. After I heard the line that applies to it, I suddenly clicked, I hadn't realised that moral was hidden in this story.
Speaking of firsts, today we started term two. I hadn't seen seven am in two weeks, so it felt very strange walking to school this morning, cold and bundled up in my jumper, when I really should have been asleep. We had P.E. first period, during the first part of which I was understandably lethargic. We were walking the cross country track, and the cold water underfoot and refreshing breeze woke me up. It was weird going to back to school, but happenings of familiar change are usually so, if that makes sense. This day was a long one, so maybe it has affected me in a way I wasn't aware of, i.e., I'm so tired I'm not making any sense. I guess I should conclude this entry, before I confuse you and myself too much. I am glad to be back at school. Even though the holidays are fun, being completely lazy gets old and boring eventually; you need the busy days, early mornings, and hard work to make you appreciate those days.
I guess that's it from me today, though it's probably counted as tonight, as it is 6.25 pm and there is not one ounce of sun in the sky.
Goodnight.
Apple Pie
Last Thursday, on one of the many rainy days of the holidays, I asked my little brother what he would like to bake. He told me, somewhat enthusiastically, that he would like to make apple pie. It turned out that we had all the ingredients, so we went to the kitchen, and baked up a storm. Now, when my little brother says he'll bake with me, or that he wants to bake, what that means is that he will hang 'round in the kitchen for a while, making mischief, then will leave and play Lego somewhere. But anyway, I enjoyed baking the pie, and I had never tried making that type of desert before, and so I was pleased with myself for expanding my baking repertoire.
That pie turned out great, my family all loved it, and I've made it once again since then, especially for my Grandad, who came up for lunch yesterday. So, if you hadn't guessed this already, I have decided to teach you all how to make a very nice apple pie. I got the original address from www.dltk-teach.com/alphabuddies/recipe/apple_pie_recipe.htm but have changed the recipe after what I learnt when I was making it.
So, to make the pastry you need:
2 1/2 cups white flour
2 tbsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup cold butter, broken into small pieces or 1/2 cup margarine (it doesn't really matter)
1/2 cup ice water
Mix the flour, sugar and salt together. Be generous with the flour, because it's better to have more pastry than you need when covering the pie.
If you're using chilled butter pieces, 'cut them in' by placing them all in the bowl and crushing it with the flat side of a butter knife. If you're using margarine, rub it in using your fingers until the mixture becomes crumb-like. You might find you will need to rub in the butter as well as cutting it in, to make sure it is well combined. Stop as soon as it is completed; be sure not to overmix. Add the ice water gradually, you will find you might need more or less. Add it a few tablespoons at a time, until the batter turns to a soft dough that isn't sticky but holds together.
Lightly flour a surface and knead the dough (press it down with your knuckles) then divide it in half. Then flatten each portion into it rough disk, no thicker than an inch or so. Cover each disk in glad wrap and pop it into the freezer for half an hour. While the pastry is chilling I find it's the perfect time to prepare the filling.
To make the filling you'll need:
2/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch of salt
6-8 medium sized red or green apples, (depending on how big you dish is and how much apple you want in your pie)
Pre-heat the oven to about 170'C (depending on your type of oven, but remember we want the pie to cook slowly, from the inside out, and by having the oven temperature too high, you will end up burning the crust and having under-cooked filling).
Mix together the flour, sugar, cinnamon (you can put a whole teaspoon in if you really like the taste of the spice) in a large mixing bowl.
Peel the apples, and cut around the core, then cut each quarter piece into thirds (I find this is a good size to have in the pie). Try and make all the pieces even. Mix the apples and the dry-mix together, and mix with your hands if need be to cover all the apples.
Now it's time to grease and line the pastry dish (you can use a low cake dish, or even muffin dishes if you want to make mini apple pies).
Grease the dish with marge or butter or cooking oil (the base ans the sides), then you can even line it with baking paper or sprinkle it with a little flour. Get the pastry out of the freezer, sprinkle flour or cornflour onto a fairly large, flat surface (I prefer cornflour because it isn't absorbed by the dough and makes it very flexible). Roll each disk out until it's large enough to generously cover the bottom of your dish. Hold it over you dish and press it to the bottom of the dish from the centre out to the edge. Leave a slight overlap of pastry at the edge. Using a fork, add a few air-holes (for lack of a better term) in the bottom of the dish. Rub a tiny bit of butter/marge to the pastry. Pour in the filling. Cover the apple filling with the other rolled-out disk of pastry and leave an overlap matching the one of the base. Put plenty of air-holes in the top of the pie so steam can escape during cooking. Press the two overlaps together with a fork and fold back onto the pie so no pastry is over the actual pastry dish.
Place in the hot oven. It will need to cook for 40-50 minutes, but check on it regularly, making sure the pastry isn't getting to brown or one side isn't cooking faster than the other.
When juice starts bubbling through the slits or air-holes, the pie is ready.
Leave to cool for about ten minutes, then cut and serve. This pie is particularly delectable with milk or vanilla ice cream.
Now you know how to make a very nice apple pie- enjoy!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Friday Night
Last night my friends Bobbie-Leigh and Francesca and I went out to this concert in town.
Bobbie was meeting a friend of hers there, and that friend's brother was the bassist in one of the bands playing. About 9 bands played, and they were all, by my guess, school-age. It was a tour, and a few of the bands were from our capital city. Since May is our country's Music Month, we thought this event was very appropriate.
Anyhow, this is what happened:
We were all going down in the same car, because Bobbie's mum was going to stay down there with us. After our drive down to our country's largest city, and a bit of frantic map reading, we had found the community centre where it was being held. We got there at about 6.30, so waited around in the foyer until the show started at 7. It was only $5 to get in, and upon entry we were given free stuff, and c'mon, everyone loves free stuff! The pack was full of badges, guitar picks, ear plugs, stickers and even some coasters. The first band up was Charm School Rejects, which was the band whose bassist's sister we knew. They were pretty good, and it's impressive that they were already writing and performing their own material at such a young age. Every other band that played performed some original material as well, and that is very encouraging.
They were very enjoyable to watch; there were seven of them on stage and they were all jumping in sync and dancing. We were a tad shy because the show had just started, and so just stood and watched, rather than moshing and head-banging.
We went outside after their set and found that everyone was relatively hyperactive.
We convinced ourselves that we would dance to the following band, but when we got there, the stuff they were playing was rather slow and the lead singer didn't even move. He just stood there, wearing his leather jacket, and sang with his hands in his pockets.
I'm not an expert on performing arts, but I think it is crucial to strike the right balance between engaging the audience and entertaining. It can be very boring if a band just plays for themselves.
The next band was a group of girls named Cross Eyed Mary, and they were very skillful and also perfomed well. We jumped and cheered for them, and got over the initial embarrassment of being the only ones doing so.
Over the next couple of acts, we really got into it, and pretty much mastered the art that is moshing (in our opinion anyway). Even if no-one else was dancing, we could pull it off because there were five of us (we had met up with a mutual friend of Bobbie and Steph).
Once, we even got a mention from one of the bands- exciting!
But dancing and the like is tiring and hot work, especially at our level of skill, so soon enough we were red-faced and puffing.
After a short break, though, we were back into it and I even won a shirt because I clapped the hardest for the sound-guy. Steph tried to tackle it off me, but was unsuccessful. I counted myself lucky, because the girl who caught the first shirt ended up on the floor while trying to keep hold of her prize.
Five became four when Erin (the mutual friend) was picked up, but there were still loads of bands to go.
One band, who I'd say were heavy rock/metal (think Rage Against the Machine), named Sir Psycho had a bassist wearing a Mini-mouse outfit, and a guitarist in purple skinny jeans, tartan shirt, Dock Martins and a to-the-floor, fluffy blue coat.
There was one more band after that one, but Steph had gone, so we decided to take our leave, too.
It was a fantastic night, I had such a blast. I definitely want to go to more things like that in the future.
I do recommend moshing to everyone, it's great fun and a good workout.
Bobbie was meeting a friend of hers there, and that friend's brother was the bassist in one of the bands playing. About 9 bands played, and they were all, by my guess, school-age. It was a tour, and a few of the bands were from our capital city. Since May is our country's Music Month, we thought this event was very appropriate.
Anyhow, this is what happened:
We were all going down in the same car, because Bobbie's mum was going to stay down there with us. After our drive down to our country's largest city, and a bit of frantic map reading, we had found the community centre where it was being held. We got there at about 6.30, so waited around in the foyer until the show started at 7. It was only $5 to get in, and upon entry we were given free stuff, and c'mon, everyone loves free stuff! The pack was full of badges, guitar picks, ear plugs, stickers and even some coasters. The first band up was Charm School Rejects, which was the band whose bassist's sister we knew. They were pretty good, and it's impressive that they were already writing and performing their own material at such a young age. Every other band that played performed some original material as well, and that is very encouraging.
They were very enjoyable to watch; there were seven of them on stage and they were all jumping in sync and dancing. We were a tad shy because the show had just started, and so just stood and watched, rather than moshing and head-banging.
We went outside after their set and found that everyone was relatively hyperactive.
We convinced ourselves that we would dance to the following band, but when we got there, the stuff they were playing was rather slow and the lead singer didn't even move. He just stood there, wearing his leather jacket, and sang with his hands in his pockets.
I'm not an expert on performing arts, but I think it is crucial to strike the right balance between engaging the audience and entertaining. It can be very boring if a band just plays for themselves.
The next band was a group of girls named Cross Eyed Mary, and they were very skillful and also perfomed well. We jumped and cheered for them, and got over the initial embarrassment of being the only ones doing so.
Over the next couple of acts, we really got into it, and pretty much mastered the art that is moshing (in our opinion anyway). Even if no-one else was dancing, we could pull it off because there were five of us (we had met up with a mutual friend of Bobbie and Steph).
Once, we even got a mention from one of the bands- exciting!
But dancing and the like is tiring and hot work, especially at our level of skill, so soon enough we were red-faced and puffing.
After a short break, though, we were back into it and I even won a shirt because I clapped the hardest for the sound-guy. Steph tried to tackle it off me, but was unsuccessful. I counted myself lucky, because the girl who caught the first shirt ended up on the floor while trying to keep hold of her prize.
Five became four when Erin (the mutual friend) was picked up, but there were still loads of bands to go.
One band, who I'd say were heavy rock/metal (think Rage Against the Machine), named Sir Psycho had a bassist wearing a Mini-mouse outfit, and a guitarist in purple skinny jeans, tartan shirt, Dock Martins and a to-the-floor, fluffy blue coat.
There was one more band after that one, but Steph had gone, so we decided to take our leave, too.
It was a fantastic night, I had such a blast. I definitely want to go to more things like that in the future.
I do recommend moshing to everyone, it's great fun and a good workout.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Art.
My mum is an artist; a painter. Lately, she has been running art workshops and lessons to ensure a stable income, which can be hard to come by in that certain career.
Today I attended one of those very lessons. Sadly, I had to miss my 9 o'clock cross country training in order to get down to the local art centre and set up. We also had to make a stop to buy some paint, which is quite often used in painting classes.
It was the lesson that taught your some fundamentals in painting, so that's why I chose to go. I was the oldest person there, and, embarrassingly enough, the majority of them were about ten. First off, we created a colour wheel. We were only allowed to use the three primary colours; red, blue, and yellow. We started off by painting one segment red, easy enough. From there we had to gradually lighten the shade until we painted a portion pure yellow. It was not as easy as it sounds. It was, in fact, extremely frustrating. I ended up just painting a red, a light red, three segments of the same shade of orange, then yellow. My mum said not be deterred, because some of the adults who had taking this class had walked out crying because they had found it so challenging. She also said that at art school they had been made to do a wheel of thirty-two shades, and students had been walking around with there head in their hands. We were only doing a wheel of sixteen shades. It is an exercise that really tests you; your concentration, patience, eye, and perception of colour.
Next we had to paint from still life. We were also meant to use our new colour-mixing skills to get the right shade of colour. We were painting vases of flowers. We didn't have to paint everything we saw, we could pick one part, or one type, of flower, but we had to paint it as it was. It as surprising how many people didn't do that. They painted what they thought a flower was, or what they wanted to paint. I tried my best to paint the flowers. I'm not too flash at drawing, so this was challenging and frustrating. It all just really annoyed me, to be honest. I could see the flowers right there, why couldn't I just put them on my canvas in paint?
There is some logic in art, but barely any facts. You can't just learn to paint in one two hour session.
Some people just see the world differently. I wonder what it would be like to see and think of the world as shapes and colours.
My painting wasn't a total disaster, and, my goodness, there were even a few parts I liked. When I didn't over think it, and spent most of my time looking at the flowers, the right shape appeared. I definitely have new found respect for my mother and what she does. She makes it look so easy. But I do believe she is one of the few that see the world in colour. Her clothes are organised according to colour. She has her drawer of oranges, and her drawer of browns. She dresses for colour too, depending on what she's in the mood for.
I think I am going to go to attend more classes and try and learn from my mum. I believe it is so important to keep pushing yourself and to go outside your comfort zone. It not only helps you develop and improve new skills, it helps your grow as a person. Developing the artistic side intelligence and skill, I can see, would be very beneficial.
Leonardo Divinci said simply in his five-point technique; learn to draw.
Today I attended one of those very lessons. Sadly, I had to miss my 9 o'clock cross country training in order to get down to the local art centre and set up. We also had to make a stop to buy some paint, which is quite often used in painting classes.
It was the lesson that taught your some fundamentals in painting, so that's why I chose to go. I was the oldest person there, and, embarrassingly enough, the majority of them were about ten. First off, we created a colour wheel. We were only allowed to use the three primary colours; red, blue, and yellow. We started off by painting one segment red, easy enough. From there we had to gradually lighten the shade until we painted a portion pure yellow. It was not as easy as it sounds. It was, in fact, extremely frustrating. I ended up just painting a red, a light red, three segments of the same shade of orange, then yellow. My mum said not be deterred, because some of the adults who had taking this class had walked out crying because they had found it so challenging. She also said that at art school they had been made to do a wheel of thirty-two shades, and students had been walking around with there head in their hands. We were only doing a wheel of sixteen shades. It is an exercise that really tests you; your concentration, patience, eye, and perception of colour.
Next we had to paint from still life. We were also meant to use our new colour-mixing skills to get the right shade of colour. We were painting vases of flowers. We didn't have to paint everything we saw, we could pick one part, or one type, of flower, but we had to paint it as it was. It as surprising how many people didn't do that. They painted what they thought a flower was, or what they wanted to paint. I tried my best to paint the flowers. I'm not too flash at drawing, so this was challenging and frustrating. It all just really annoyed me, to be honest. I could see the flowers right there, why couldn't I just put them on my canvas in paint?
There is some logic in art, but barely any facts. You can't just learn to paint in one two hour session.
Some people just see the world differently. I wonder what it would be like to see and think of the world as shapes and colours.
My painting wasn't a total disaster, and, my goodness, there were even a few parts I liked. When I didn't over think it, and spent most of my time looking at the flowers, the right shape appeared. I definitely have new found respect for my mother and what she does. She makes it look so easy. But I do believe she is one of the few that see the world in colour. Her clothes are organised according to colour. She has her drawer of oranges, and her drawer of browns. She dresses for colour too, depending on what she's in the mood for.
I think I am going to go to attend more classes and try and learn from my mum. I believe it is so important to keep pushing yourself and to go outside your comfort zone. It not only helps you develop and improve new skills, it helps your grow as a person. Developing the artistic side intelligence and skill, I can see, would be very beneficial.
Leonardo Divinci said simply in his five-point technique; learn to draw.
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