One of the requirements for the Art History major at Williams was Art Studio 100, which I absolutely dreaded but forced myself to take sophomore year. All of the “drawings” I produced in that class were pretty bad and immediately forgettable, but I think I did leave my mark as one of the messiest people ever to pass through the Spencer art building. Not messy in the sense that I spilled ink or left a trail of drawing paper in my wake, but personally messy. As in, I myself was always completely covered in charcoal, ink, what have you at the end of every class. We all had to wash our hands at the end of class, which I always dutifully did, but that didn’t keep people from staring at me as I walked home afterward. How did I get charcoal on my lips? All over my forehead and neck? The middle of my back? Anyway, I’ve just been reminded of this lately ‘cause for the last few days I’ve been wearing a black skirt and black tights, which really throw into relief all of the white chalk dust that apparently follows me out of the classroom. I’ll look down and realize that my feet and ankles and the entire front of my skirt are covered in white smears. I don’t even want to think about what I look like from behind, given my habit of leaning back and resting my butt on the blackboard ledge. Aahhh.