I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.
— Augusten Burroughs
Sometimes I think that I’m perfect. Other times I know it to be the case. However, reality tends to have a contrasting perception of that statement and tries to do everything in her power to prove me mistaken.
And she always succeeds.
Now, a lot of people call themselves perfectionists (which is really just a complimentary way of describing their neuroticism), and at one time I would have claimed that title for myself. I work hard; I don’t like presenting shoddy work; I try to do my best. But even if I abide by all those rules, I still churn out some darn cruddy works.
We’re always told that no one’s perfect (once again, I’m presuming they haven’t met me when that statement is made…or more likely I’m the evidence for their claim). However, we can work toward the perfect. We can always strive to be better.
The world would have never progressed if people were just satisfied with the mediocre. It takes a desire to work toward something greater, to aim for that golden standard, if we are ever to approach the perfect. For instance, us men went from whitey-tighties, to boxers, to boxer-briefs. Each progression better, yet none of them perfect.
Of course, to continue that metaphor I would have to some how compare my life to the development of underwear, but that will just put me in a crotchety mood (though I don’t mind making those kind of puns that make you groin). However, the point that is slowly being eclipsed by my third-grade humor is this:
No one is perfect, but we can sure do our damn best with it in sight.
As long as we work with our best intentions, try to work with our best effort, and work within reasonable expectations, then everything will work out just fine. Believing that you can actually be perfect is probably just as crippling as never trying to be perfect in the first place.
For if we are to be rational creatures, we must operate within rational expectations.
To sum this post all up, it’s like this:
Life is like a hot dog eating contest against a grizzly bear. We don’t have a chance at reaching perfection and beating the hulking beast; however, as we split the hot dogs in half and shove them down our gullet, we can at least attempt our best and enjoy the taste of them on the way down.
Just don’t believe you can win, or you’ll choke in your furious attempts.