Harrible

This semester has been testing my will to be an art major. I've been putting off the 3D courses (ceramics and sculpture) because I really just haven't wanted to take them. And now I know why.

Despite the fact that I am forced into painful mental contortions to think in three-dimensions, I don't like the smells, the sounds, the mess or the process. I wake up every morning with absolute zero motivation to roll out of bed because I get to start my day, everyday, with three-dimensional exercises. I don't like this sort of exercise.

But today made me feel like I had real justification in my aversion to sculpture. We were watching a steel demo (forging, welding etc.) in the miserably cold annex to the building and I, bundled in knee socks, long pants, a turtleneck, a vest, and cotton-duct coveralls over top to boot, was freezing. As we were watching, through our Darth Vader helmets, the "miracle of welding" I noticed how awful it smells. Like burning. Finally it was my turn to step up to rusty steel table and give welding a go. My attempt was semi-successful and but as I lifted up my helmet to look at my beautiful silver bead, the girl behind me gasped and asked, "what is all over your back?" My first thought was, How should I know? I can't even see out the front of this thing, let alone the back. She began brushing off little black flecks of burnt something off my back and then it dawned on her (and me) that it was hair.

Yes, apparently the burning hot flames from the forge kindly licked the back of my head and took off a good 3 inches from the back of my hair. Lovely.

So here we are, 85 days away from the big day, and going in for an emergency haircut. Crisis control style. Strap me to a gurney.