Perfection

If you're not trying to be the best, why bother? Seriously. Ask yourself that question for a second. If you're not trying to be the best, why bother?

Is there a satisfying answer to that question? I can't think of one. If I'm satisfied with the level I've attained at something, it's no longer that important to me, is it? If it was important, wouldn't I try being better? Isn't there some level of progression that's always present in the most important things we do?

If I'm a distance runner, I could still always run a little farther. If I love my wife, I could still always love her better. If I paint beautiful canvases, I could still always create another one, more experienced than I was the last time.

It's hard not to believe that with the most important things we'll do with our lives, there will always be some room for improvement.

That's what stifles us about the worst jobs. Day one, we know everything we'll be doing until the day we quit or keel over serving someone their third refill of french fries. Though that last part wasn't from any job I know of. Nope. Just a random incredibly specific job function that I've never experienced.

Anyway.

We don't care about things we can master in the first five minutes.

It's the appeal of the "hard to get" girl. It's the puzzle you work on for hours just to get a few pieces in place. It's the movie you watch a hundred times to get every single joke and hidden meaning.

We're wired to be challenged. We don't get better by staying stagnant.

With me, it's why I write every day. I know I'm not the best. I'm not even published. I'm hardly even read.

But I'll do it anyway because I want to be remembered, if for nothing else, as a writer. Maybe not the best, but who's to say if I don't stop trying?

I know you have them too. What are you going to be better than anyone else at? Go on, show me I'm not alone in this.