I was talking to my friend today (also an artist) about the latest chapter of my novel, and how I'd finally come across a chapter that didn't suck like one of those suppurating mud flats at Yosemite. It actually didn't make me cringe. Unlike the rest of this sucking novel. 

"That's why I never want to teach any art form to anyone ever," she said. 

"The whining, you mean?" 

"That, plus it's like this guy said in a news story I heard the other day. He was talking about golf, how the biggest enemy for most golfers is the one residing between their two ears." 

"It's true. All artists I know are like that." 

"There's this lady I know who's impressed with the fact that I'm in the art biz. She wishes she could do something, but keeps insisting she's just not talented. She keeps saying things like, 'I'd love to do art. It must be so relaxing.'" 

I sigh. I've had this same conversion with people. "Maybe if you're doing it as a hobby or something." 

"Yeah, because otherwise it's about the most unrelaxing thing I can think of." 

"Tell her it's like juggling really sharp knives when your hands are coated in olive oil." 

"Damn it. We're whining again." 

"Damn. You're right."