must be weird to be an art prof

so i stopped painting at 5 this morning so that i could drive my painting back to school and not paint on it. had to have a little individual critique, a bit of a sit-and-chat if you will, with the stupid prof. he asked what my plans are for the summer, and the fall and after school and crap. i almost asked why he cared. instead i told him about driving tractors. it was like talking to a highschool guidance counselor. he was asking me what i was going to do after i graduated.
him: so if you could be anything, what would it be? (i'm not kidding, he asked this!)
me: anything?
him: yeah, anything. not necessarily art-related, just anything.
me: some kind of fictional character. ideally.

i have a tradition of not sleeping before critiques.