I woke up early to finish reading Giovanni's Room. I ate breakfast and drank juice, then I went to a kickboxing class. I thought I'd be there, practicing my punches and kicks by imagining the things and people that have recently made me angry. But as we practiced, I quickly realized I am not angry at all. What I am is afraid. And I think being afraid is just as bad or worse than being angry. I went to the class to confront that fear. The fake guns and the knives and swords mounted on the walls made me panic a bit. The talk of "targets" troubled my concentration. Half the battle is showing up, and I showed up, and I plan on going back, but it's a long road ahead.