Make your momma proud, boy or a manifesto on doing

My mother is proud of me -- at least I assume so. I've given her plenty of reasons to be: I don't do drugs; I don't drink (to excess); I went to a good school; I go to church on Sunday (under duress); I take care of my little brother; I call; I obey, but, I could be better.

I'm sure she'd agree, but I don't think she realizes how much better.

This is all to say, making my mother proud is relatively easy. I merely have to not be a total dick and even if I was I'd still be her boy.

But, I don't want making my mother proud the upper limit of my ambition. I want to make myself proud. You know, the guy who actually has to deal with all the baggage. The one who replays the fuck-ups, half-steps, could-have-beens over and over in his mind. He's a much more discerning audience.

So how do I go about appeasing that crowd? 

Well, first, I stop talking/thinking/planning/researching/attempting to do great things and I do them. I will fail. Let me repeat that: I will fail. But I keep doing until I stop failing. And then I edit until it's not merely a "non-failure", but something "good". Most people stop there, but I can't. That's when I take that "good" thing and make it "better". Then maybe the crowd will nod in approval and start the slow, stuttered applause that builds to a standing ovation, which leads to that riotous cheer: I'm proud of myself.