I am a perfectionist, and I like to get it right.
There is a satisfaction in arranging things, arranging data or objects and putting it all in its place.
I could do it all day long. I DO do it all day long.
I’m good at it. And yet, I can’t keep it all perfect.
There is no end to perfect. Because there is always something to get perfecter.
Makes me think of Mr. Incredible saying “Sometimes I wish the world would just stay saved.”
Then today I heard this:
Art is never defect free
It came from Seth Godin’s book Linchpin. Seth Godin was talking about how we are living in an industrialized, mechanized world but we humans are neither. And if we want to be valued, we have to do the things that only we can do.
Which is art.
If it can be measured and repeated, that is not art. It is work waiting to be given to a machine.
I don’t want to be machine, I will never be as good at being a machine as a machine is.
Which means I have to come to terms with the imperfect.
To be perfect enough to get it done, but pay attention to the necessary defects. The things that can’t ever be perfect.
The human connections.
Darn it, I would like those to be perfect too, but those come with irregularities.
Perfectionism should come with time limits. I have to recognize that it can be a standard held loosely.
It’s a worthy and unachievable goal. The art of perfectionism come with defects.
That has to be okay, because it’s still worth trying for. Sometimes the defect is the point.