The Art of Imperfection

As usual, I have crossed the finish line of the week and soaring onto plains of ecstasy that usually enrapture my spirit Friday afternoon around 3 o’clock, I become very happy. But then, as usual, after that dreamlike flight upon the heavenly boughs of weekend freedom, my joyful stupor is cleared away by the coming of Saturday afternoon... in which I sit staring dully out the window, chewing over that all too familiar question:

“Jennie, what are you doing with your life?”

How can life be as perfect as possible? How can I enjoy my weekend to the absolute fullest? Am I doing everything right?

The general state within my head is a box full of unsorted emotions, a to-do list of dreams, and, most prominently, a vague feeling of being not quite satisfied in life. It is as if some object hangs within a phantom sphere, just waiting for me to figure out what it is. It is the elusive promise that whispers to me, "If you can just figure out this mysterious elixir of life you will be completely satisfied forever."  This mystical knowledge though, eludes me. I thought it might be found at Wal-mart, I thought it might be found in a book, in a paragraph of proses, in the vacuum cleaner or at my beading table. I thought if I learned how to be better, I would feel better. But actually...I usually feel worse. There must be some cliched secret of happiness that just hasn’t clicked yet.

You know, in college you are supposed to figure out your future and what you want to do with your life. But somehow I missed that important class. And it caused me so much agony, the not knowing, that I really hated me on the inside. But I think that is just the catch, isn’t it? Before you can learn how to live well in the world, you need to learn how to live well inside yourself. It seems the daily torment of the perfectionist is trying so hard to do everything right, that you end up doing everything wrong! It's paralyzing.

Life is about making mistakes! Life is about changing your mind. Life is about being strong enough to say you are weak and honest enough to admit you don’t have a clue. I mean, how else will you learn the difference between what you think is best and what really is best? I feel so envious of people who can actually make a good, old fashioned mistake—admit it, learn from it, and move on without pining over it or analyzing it for years.

So what sort of treatment is there for people who are plagued by perfection? For in all actuality, the noble charge of a perfectionist is the the endless quest for the unachievable. And that can be rather maddening.

All I can come up with this saturday is the long, lost words of an old English teacher: 

"Forget about being perfect. You'll avoid having ulcers and you will live longer."

So here's to today: To not being perfect. To not having it all figured out. To writing a not so perfect blog entry. To having bad grammer, to having mispelled words, about not knowing everything, not having a list, not having a goal.... Not having a single clue.

Today will be about listening to Christmas songs too early. Blowing bubbles in my strawberry milk. Making a mess. Singing off key. Having coffee after my bedtime. Saying something stupid and not caring. Letting my drawers stay unorganized. Today will be about looking boldly at the clock without guilt that I am wasting a perfectly good day of freedom. 

Today I will not figure out my life. Today I will practice the art of imperfection. <3