Never done this before. Well, it's time you people who have been cruelly tricked into "watching" me to suffer this.

Unfortunately the workload has become quite overbearing. Like a pair of bailiffs threatening to re-break your broken limbs because you've failed to return the wheelchair you're carting your sorry ass around in; it's endless. Although I can't say I've ever had a proper workload before, so I can't be blamed if I happen to waste my time looking through the DevArt emoticons for something acceptable - nothing too overly clinically depressed, I don't want to look like a flailing attention-whore with his face partially on fire. Then again, who looks on here anyway?

The workload which I speak of is the A-Level coursework. Not a real life workload (god forbid!). I don't do "real life", if I did, I'd eventually have to face up to things like the weather, tea and a proper wardrobe. What comes at the end of this workload? More, naturally, but of which variety? Office job? Nah, too many pencils and carpeted surfaces. I was beginning to worry quite a bit, until I saw people like Tracey Emin getting near enough a whole page in The Independant for a poorly-written half diary entry about pretty much nothing, accompanied by a photograph of one of her gaudy creations. Now, I'm not really one to critique either, especially the art part - I don't understand it, nor do I pretend to. Abstract art is a strange thing to me. Or just lazy, I forget.

In either case, I figured out that I could probably make a pretty decent pay-check at the end of the month for sneezing in hankerchiefs embroidered with the names of the people I hate, nailing it to a boat, sailing it down a river, dismantling it, and making an extremely abstract-looking desk with potentially violating seats where it doesn't matter where you sit at it to do your work, because you're never going to get it done.