Self-obsession.
You are probably the most remarkable fantastic machine that you will ever come across.
You have such detailed case studies on you.
You are like an ipad^40 in terms of features yet to be explored.
How much CAN you know about how you work?
How much DO you know?
What buttons can you push on yourself, and can you disable them?

"There is just a square here, so what?"

It seems that the experience of art can be underwhelming rather than overwhelming, and this seems to make many deeply uncomfortable.

"What is this?"

Its as if the only emotion that one takes in their wallet to an art exhibit is awe. If you can't spend awe then the trip is a failure. But what about the rest of your emotions, your boredom, confusion, your evolution, your contempt, your disgust? Those are all valid, and being exercised.
In classical Indian Dance there are 9 emotions or the nava rasas. Possibly translated as 9 flavors. The main job of a drama-dancer is to envoke them: Anger, disgust, jealousy, fear, awe, strength, heroism, love, equanimity.

"I don't get it.."

Maybe you are trying too hard to get it. Just react and pay attention. Not to the art as much as to yourself.

"I can do this, ergo not art."

Bizarre distinction.

I feel very frustrated.
I have a lot of ideas, I have potential, I can juggle ideas well.
But I don't have that opportunity yet. I still have to do low level coding tasks which try my patience and eat up my time.
I honestly feel that I would be 100x better as a prof--for myself.
I also feel that I would be 100x better than the average prof out there.
I hope I get this chance soon.
Down.
Depressed.
I don't want to straddle my thought process to the trenches for 10 hours a day.

The earl gray tea explodes on my tongue.
When the liquid is on your tongue, you cannot taste it.
Bland hot.
Once you swallow it, its gone, but leaves a whiff of rose behind.
Chasing.
An echo of the taste pops up in the back of your throat,
the front of your tongue.
The taste you never tasted when it was there before.

It feels different to write on a page.
Its involved and organic, the shapes flow
I've been writing since I was young.
I stopped in the middle, but started again.
Its how I take stock and make sense of the world.

I love the feeling of writing on a page.
Its personal and intimate,
the way the words and letters curve
off of my pen and explode into the page.
The things I sent into the garbage,
a rain of words, coming back at
me like a blizzard.
Leaving blisters where they
fall. Trying to make sense of a word salad.