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Language Log

Saturday, Nov. 04, 2023 - 7:51 p.m.

Part 2. It didn’t really get better. I kept trying, kept getting frustrated. I think the problem was normally I’d stay with an exercise until I was happy with what I was doing, but of course the class couldn’t do that. And so it moved on and I felt progressively worse. I told myself it didn’t matter, told myself I can go back and try later and watch later. Had a couple more meltdowns anyway. Ended up sitting on the bed in a fetal position just listening for the last hour. I couldn’t even watch.

I like the really free dancing lines with movement across the page, but in practice, I like a lot of control. Need, perhaps, a lot of control. The combination of those facts frustrates me. And I don’t mean a little abstract frustration, I mean, it enrages me and leaves me feeling powerless and ineffective.

Anyway after the class I fell asleep and processed. I always dream of lines, calligraphy, practicing, laying out, trying to solve the problems I’m having. Sometimes I do solve things that way, but not this time. I still feel bad.

I’ve never been a class-taking person for art. Initially with this, I thought that might change, and I suppose the jury is still out on that, depending on what this fertilizer does for my artistic practice later in the season. But right now I feel like I might never want to do another one again. It’s so viscerally aversive and physically and emotionally difficult, how it’s made me feel. Next week is the last one, and I hope it goes well for me. That would make a difference.

Also made oatmeal scones, potato soup, cheese dip for frozen pretzels.

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