The Fog Cometh...And Stayeth

That's right, FOG. And lots of it, baby. What better way to top off a week long bliss of sunny, eighty degree weather, in which one can enjoy all the fruits of cargo shorts and sunglasses, than with a weekend of nipple-perking wind that makes it seem as though one should be inside stoking the fire and stirring the stew. So much for sunny views, surfer dudes and groovy attitudes.

Really though, the fog doesn't bother me so much as the inconsistency; such as thick fog and cool air in the morning and hot streets and sunny skies in the afternoon, or vice verse. Most of the weekend was spent recovering from the week-long boot camp that occurs in the first semester of graduate school. And week two plans to be no different. Thus my preparation for week two began in the wee hours of Saturday morning and continued through the weekend to included the following: hand-sharpening my pencils to razor point precision, inspecting each sheet of my drawing pad for proper tooth and weight, eating large quantities of raw steak covered in gun powder, tying a red cloth tightly around my sweaty, furrowed brow, searing the Academy of Art University logo into my arm with a red-hot Leatherman knife, and sitting in my dark room for hours repeating my mantra, "Murdock...I'm comin' for you!"