Grad Art Geeks and Makin' Robots

Never-ending work-obsessed nights, an inside-joke busting world of friends limited to the confines of the building you've been working in for days on end, a do-or-die work ethic, minimal sleep and a diet of coffee and cigarettes: you're in grad school baby, art grad school. (Cue Yeah Yeah Yeahs)

A visit to Bean Town and my girl Amber's MIT mystery zone immediately wisked me into participating in a final term project involving wine, cigarettes and 5000 lines of computer code, all of which I endured, knowing once upon a time not long ago I too had to sucker each passing friend into helping me. Kharma.

As a reward, I got a tour of the latest think tank projects, including dancing shoes, almost-real animals and robots that could pin me down and accidentally kill me on a desk.

While it is unfathomable at the time you're consumed by it, grad school will, in fact, be over someday. And you will miss the obsession, the consumption, and the conviction that your film or painting will surely cure cancer. You will even miss the poverty and the sleep deprivation.