I bought a little known (or, at least, I had never heard of it) documentary Disney did back in the '90's about two of Walt Disney's celebrated Nine Old Men: Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston. I assumed that it would be a great motivation for me, to see two charming old artists reflecting on their glory days and seeing some wonderful drawings and whatnot, and that maybe I could prove to myself that, amateur though I am, my art may really be going somewhere.
As a matter of fact, I now wish that my drawings and I could just crawl into some deep, dank, God-forsaken cave and never be heard from again. Compared to these masters, I am artistically worth less than their pencil shavings. I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself, especially when considering I've never had lessons, and when I finally do save up enough to go to college sometime after my mission, I may indeed one day become very good. After all, some of my favorite artists are completely self taught. But, until I get my self-esteem back up into high gear, I just want to bang my head against a desk until it evaporates into a fine pink mist.