Self-Improvement

Over the past year or more, I have taken a strong liking to getting better at things. It's been a strange and unexpected shift. I mean, I've always sort of wanted to get better at things-- that's sort of why I went to college--but now I'm ready to look at the hard truth of my current state of self, analyze it harshly, make judgments, kinda-sorta make goals, and then kinda-sorta take action that could lead, however indirectly, to some sort of self-improvement, the religion my society has provided me.

Back in the day, I "did," and there was quite a bit I was nominally good at by just "doing": jogging, basketball, reading, writing, being young, not making horrible life-altering decisions. Did I practice these skills? Did I look at my technique? No, not really. I just did, and life worked pretty well, and no one seemed to view me as an obstacle in any sort of game or relationship, which was actually more important to me than winning or truly "connecting on a human level." In fact, I thought practice and examination of technique were the death of art, of beauty. They were, basically, what adults did.

Many-a student has told me: "But this is exactly how I want it. I don't want to revise. I don't want to keep working at it." And 75%--no 90%-- of that is indeed human laziness, our innate desire to do and be done and then dawdle and putz, man's natural state. But 10% is also the privilege of youth: to sincerely not want to redo, to find beauty in, as Dillard discusses, the mindlessness of the act. This was what I made. I'll do it better the next time, but this here, Teache: this will never be redone 'cause I don't want to go back to it.

Now: now I redo: I redo and revise and reattempt. Flamenco pieces and tennis strokes, tikki masala and friendship: I give 'em another go. And now, it goes without saying, I'm an adult.

I believe certain variables have to be at play for a man to truly want to improve his self. 1) He must realize that much life lies ahead. Youthful thoughts of death have been vanquished; he begins to appreciate morning and seasons as never before. He realizes a) when it's all said and done he wants to be a well-rounded human and b) what the fuck else you gonna do? 2) He begins to truly prioritize things. "My muscles are more important than that corndog. Reading well is more important tonight than vodka Redbulls. This blog entry is more important than updating my status." 3) He concedes he will never be great to others, but he strives to be great to himself, and he commits himself to the endeavor. And thus he lives and acts for years: selfish and humanistic. Then, unexpectedly and at a point when the acclaim means little because death is real and near and because the intent was the meaning all along, perhaps he may find himself great in the eyes of others.