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Pat's Dad's Name Was Art
...but that's not the Art I'm referring to.
This morning, I talked to another friend of mine who's a visual artist, telling her that I was unnerved by e-mail I received this week from a classmate, who told me that while reading my learning-leadership-life history over this week, he wished he could have put his arm around me and offered me some friendly advice.
"Sarah, once you put your art out there, it's public property. Don't you think that if you publish a book and you sell 100,000 copies, there'll be 100,000 opinions?"
She liberated me, at least for today. It was freeing to realize that just because people reacted to my writing, didn't mean I needed to subscribe to all of their reactions.
Last Monday, our professor asked, "Who wants to go first?" i.e., who wanted to have his or her history interpreted during the next class?
I raised my hand.
There were to be two official readers, who would kick off the discussion while the rest of the class also had to read it, though not as carefully. Will I regret having taken this class after Monday night? Or will it prove to be transformational?