It’s as if my tries at drawing actual people are becoming a metaphor for my life. It starts out wonky, then bearable, and then finally it progresses to low levels of open-mouthed sad faces. 

Lol. (Note the lack of male body attempts. This is because WHY ARE THERE SO MANY MUSCLES WHY.) 

I should probably get one of those Loomis or Bridgman books the internet keeps on harping about. That, or I leave self-teaching and embrace the throes of stalking figure drawing sessions.