That's beside the point, though. I hated a lot of the other people in that class. I hated them because they made me feel like shit.
First, they were mostly attractive, confident, and skilled young people. (That's not enough for hate, but I have something else.
Second, there was this incident. Two of them were talking before class. I was, hell, I don't know, there doing something, and this strapping couple of artists were chatting.
"I don't get people who don't like their own work." the male said. "If they don't like their work," he continued, "why are they even here?"
Whatever thing I was doing, I stopped doing. I couldn't do it anymore.
So there's a question from the imagined peanut gallery, "What's the problem? What's wrong with what he said? What's YOUR problem? Huh? Huh? huh?"