Never say, "It doesn't have to be better."
Jan. 1st, 2018 10:21 pmThere is one phrase I'm banning from my life in 2018. It's one that I've heard time and again from loved ones, family members, and co-workers. It's one that drives me absolutely furious with disappointment time and time again.
"It doesn't have to be better."
And I'm here to tell you: Yes. It. Does. Whatever it is, if you pick it up, do it to the best of your ability. We have family dinners, and recipes we love, and recipes we cook by hand. One of our favorites is a savory, sharp macaroni & cheese dish, and every time I make it I pay attention to what I do and how I do it, and every time I make it I'll sit for a moment and consider the salt and the texture: did I brown the roux just right, did I use different breadcrumbs, should I have used another bay leaf? And every damn time one of my family members will reassuringly say, "It's fine. It doesn't have to be better."
I've hit that sublimely perfect Mac & Cheese once in a while, and I'd like to get better at doing so consistently. It's not possible to perfect, and certainly the mood of the person doing the eating is going to affect the determination, but I'd like to at least try.
The same thing is true of the stories I write and the progams I code. I'd like them to be better. I'd like to get better at them. My therapist once told me that I was "unusually relentless" in my program of constant self-analysis and improvement, but that seems to be a thing. (Elon Musk, I'm told, is similar, but he seems to be so in a really creepy way).
I'm not data-driven (although perhaps I should be) about this sort of thing, but I am anecdotally driven: I write down what I did and what I could have done differently, and the outcomes and expectations. I do this for cooking, for writing, for programming, for dating and even for my relationships. I want to be better at them. I want to be skilled at making things, and leading people to joy and happiness, if only for a little while.
So, just a warning: Never tell me, "It's fine, it doesn't have to be better."
"It doesn't have to be better."
And I'm here to tell you: Yes. It. Does. Whatever it is, if you pick it up, do it to the best of your ability. We have family dinners, and recipes we love, and recipes we cook by hand. One of our favorites is a savory, sharp macaroni & cheese dish, and every time I make it I pay attention to what I do and how I do it, and every time I make it I'll sit for a moment and consider the salt and the texture: did I brown the roux just right, did I use different breadcrumbs, should I have used another bay leaf? And every damn time one of my family members will reassuringly say, "It's fine. It doesn't have to be better."
I've hit that sublimely perfect Mac & Cheese once in a while, and I'd like to get better at doing so consistently. It's not possible to perfect, and certainly the mood of the person doing the eating is going to affect the determination, but I'd like to at least try.
The same thing is true of the stories I write and the progams I code. I'd like them to be better. I'd like to get better at them. My therapist once told me that I was "unusually relentless" in my program of constant self-analysis and improvement, but that seems to be a thing. (Elon Musk, I'm told, is similar, but he seems to be so in a really creepy way).
I'm not data-driven (although perhaps I should be) about this sort of thing, but I am anecdotally driven: I write down what I did and what I could have done differently, and the outcomes and expectations. I do this for cooking, for writing, for programming, for dating and even for my relationships. I want to be better at them. I want to be skilled at making things, and leading people to joy and happiness, if only for a little while.
So, just a warning: Never tell me, "It's fine, it doesn't have to be better."
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