Why We Suck_ A Feel Good Guide to Staying Fat, Loud, Lazy and Stupid - Denis Leary [45]
I'd say when it comes to self-esteem my mother said it best and way more than once to me, my sister Ann Marie, my brother Johnny, my baby sister Betsy, and any and all cousins from this side of the ocean or the other who tried to get above their station in this life.
Pick one:
Just who the hell died and left you in charge, huh?
Well, now-there's another county heard from.
Why can't you be more like (insert smart faggy kid from school's name here)?
Why don't you learn a lesson or two from (insert faggy cousin's name here)?
No one asked you for your opinion mister/missy/smartass.
Shut up, cut the cadology and go to bed!
You wanted self-esteem when I grew up? You had to earn it. The only rights you had were to eat whatever it was they put on the table and sleep in a warm bed and get free clothing as long as you showed up on time. And after you hit eighteen? Time to go out into the real world.
You want some self-esteem?
Then get up off your lazy ass and DO something.
Invent something, make a great catch, learn how to play the piano, cut the goddam lawn, shovel the fucking sidewalk, paint an interesting picture-anything except sit there whining about how no one pays any attention to you.
You know what kids learn when parents insist on making sure that everyone gets a trophy and everyone wins and nobody loses? They learn that losing doesn't suck. Which it does. Which is why no one wants to lose and be called a fucking loser. Jesus. You fall down you get up. That's how you learn how much falling down hurts and how much you never wanna fall down ever again. Christ. Modern moms are desperate to make sure their kids never lose, never get beat up, never get called fat, never get anything negative ever ever ever. It's okay for the kids to do whatever they FEEL like doing-never say no-just yes yes yes.
Another little story about self-esteem and all its iterations-confidence, wherewithal, ingenuity and advancement:
HOW I LEARNED TO ACT
When I was a freshman at Emerson College several of my best buddies and I were told we had to wait in line for the best parts because the juniors and seniors needed to play leading roles before they graduated. Basically that meant not getting onstage on a regular basis in a meaningful role for at least two or three years. Being an understudy, standing in the wings, hoping wishing praying plotting dreaming that one of the stars might maybe perhaps if possible suffer a broken ankle or a pinched neck nerve or a bout of laryngitis or just a full-blown onset of basic-ass stage fright.
But instead of cursing the darkness we lit it up-using the advice of one Dr. James Randall we formed The Emerson Comedy Workshop. Dr. Randall forced the Student Government Association to recognize The Workshop as a legitimate theater group and fund it, thereby allowing us to write all of our own one-act plays, variety shows, mini-musical parodies-whatever came to mind. We even ended up getting credit for all the creative work as well as the set design, lighting design, tech work et al. We did three to four shows a year. We were almost always last on the list for available theater space, but we would take whatever we were given-lecture halls, raw square spaces, even-in my favorite turn of events-a former church-and have to outfit it with a stage,