In a cold room tucked away inside other rooms in the midst of academia, I sat today for nearly eight hours. A microphone hung precariously from the ceiling, its cord barely peaking through the dark gray foam padding. Across from me was a curtain and behind the dingy yellow folds peaked mirrored chrome glass. The chair felt like 19th Century furniture intending to perfect one's posteur and a brown table screamed institution while I sat motionless. Can't wait to do it all over again tomorrow.