Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I was proud of the spackling job I did Tuesday. I am proud of the wall I painted at the museum, a battered cracked damaged wall that now looks new and smooth. I'm proud of my needlework. I'm proud of the bookcases I designed and built. I'm proud of a bunch of things, and I don't feel at all sinful about feeling proud.
When I look back at all the things that have been most satisfying to me, all the things I'm proud of, they all have one thing in common:
They are all things I made with my hands or did with my body.
I'd been in the wrong profession all my life.
Plenty of time to start over.
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