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The final day of pottery class came too soon. In my previous experience, I’ve had courses for an entire semester. But only three classes didn’t seem like enough time for me. I wanted more.

Our last course was the painting phase, which was always my downfall for even a perfectly constructed piece. It’s a blind gamble too, because you don’t know how certain colors will look until they are fired and then it’s too late. Once something’s fired 1650 degrees, it’s pretty hard to undo.

I painted one piece with a layered colored glaze, hoping for the neat black on white effect. The second I got more cute with, incorporating black, red and blue. Hopefully they don’t suck. I won’t know until next week, when they’re fired. The problem with pottery, too, is that it’s hard to destroy. Centuries later, archeologists will unearth my piece and find it’s craptacular color scheme and know that mediocre humans existed here.