Monday begins as yet another day in the continuing war between those who seek the highest of ranks amidst the world of art against the evil forces that would see them returned to a life of part time wages and bleak outlooks. As we stand on the battlefield that is the Spring semester, opposite that of the giant shadowed beasts which call themselves Professors, who wield razor-sharp tongues and are armed with "projects" formed of the hardest stone and most jagged steel, we tighten our grip around our wood-encased charcoal pencils and synthetic haired sable brushes, spit in the dirt, adjust our kilts, and charge up the battle field emitting fierce battle cries (in slow motion, of course) to meet our foes head on.
My preparation for said battle was perhaps not as complete as it should have been this past week, but it did include "flaming" one of my sketchbooks, as well as enjoying an end of the week Mexican style dinner prepared by the lively Rachel.
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