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This afternoon I saw the photographs of Nell Dorr at Amon Carter, which was a boon as I am interested in a feminine and antiquated perspective over the 1950's and 1960's. My energy is now concentrated in this century.

After work I came to the museum and walked around. I am possessed with a terrible energy now. I work furiously, and then I can't rest. I want to learn more. I am frantic to understand things and people. My mind never rests. At night, my dreams are frenetic. I feel impotent to express, because I have no understanding.

In my world I see work. I see industry. I see people shaped by their experiences and by their innate person. I do not understand why I work, why I desire to work. Is it because I believe in the American value of hard work? What is that value, even? Working hard for its own sake, or working hard for material gain. Is either one a reason for living?

What can I learn from my day-to-day life? What meaning can I extrapolate?

I also desire to understand myself. In this frenetic bustle I am faceless. Am I an artist? I define an artist as one who expresses an understanding of nature through a medium. Is this what I will be? Am I a technician? Am I defined by the labor I do for money? Am I a woman? Am I defined by particularities to my gender?

I desire knowledge. This terrible energy is a storm around me.

I realized that though I desperately long to create a work that is true to life, possessing verisimilitude, I cannot create unless I am unconscious of describing myself. I cannot write unless I am in a dream-state and am unfamiliar with my characters and story. Only in this inverted world can I create. However, I want to write what is real. I want my inverted world to resonate as a reflection of the world through the eyes of an intelligent, discerning being.

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