I remember thinking about this in my 20s when I was trying to be a writer, then later trying to work on my Masters thesis in my late twenties. Do I really want to wake up every morning and acknowledge I am a failure?

How very interesting that in learning to paint I encounter this question again. 

Now that I am an older and have gained wiles and cunning, l would described as a daily struggle towards greatness, the discipline of a Master. (Gag! Barf! Retch! Yet, its true – why paint the difficulty of struggle worse?)

I cannot understand why   I have this strong sense of doom, inability & “I can’t do this” for art only..

I wonder if it stems from my inability to really get it. I cannot understand it because I lack a feeling for art. My feeling is either,  “Man, this is awesome!” or “Oh, ok.”