Perfectionism

A few random thoughts about perfectionism:

Perfectionism is usually said with a negative connotation. I agree with this sentiment, especially as I woefully consider myself a perfectionist. There are positive aspects to perfectionism though. For one, it makes people strive to improve in every aspect of their life. It lends ambition to you even in areas that you may have plateaued and in which you already excel.

The downside of it is that it can paralyze and blind those who are afflicted by it. Perfectionism can blind you by narrowing your vision so that you are only focused on one thing since you are not perfect. It is very easy to let other things go by the wayside and allow an obsessive attitude occur about one particular thing.

Perfectionism can also paralyze in the sense of dissuading someone from moving forward with their life because they are either afraid to fail or just uncomfortable since they aren't the absolute greatest at one particular aspect of their life.

All in all, perfectionism has some positive aspects, but I have to say that the ramifications of perfectionism are mostly negative.

A Reason for Everything?

Why does everyone need a reason for things that other people do? I have to say if it isn't very obvious why someone is doing something at least slightly out of the ordinary, then most people scrutinize the decision; endlessly. And if you don't give an answer that makes sense in that person's estimation and experience, you are deemed a dangerous individual to their own little universe. I mean dangerous as in someone they don't particularly like or dislike but are made uncomfortable by because they don't quite understand them.

Personally, I like people I don't understand. I find people that fit my logical flow to be somewhat boring. But why don't people just do things for no reason? Well, I shouldn't say no reason...there is a reason for everything. But why can't it simply be

"For shits and giggles"
"Because I felt like it"
"Because I wanted to"
"For kicks"
"For the sheer fun of it"

without garnering wary looks and uncomfortable silences or acting like you are a sideshow?

Set Up For Failure

So, has the United States as a collective organism learned its lesson from the economic crash? I have to say in one critical aspect, the answer has to be a resounding no. The big banks are still conglomerated and a decently large point of failure. The stimulus package has done absolutely nothing to curb the growth and dominance of the huge banks that caused the meltdown in the first place. The whole point of capitalism is that businesses that are not performing well begin to fail and allow other better run businesses to ascend to prominence.

This breaks down when a government regulates things enough to create barriers to failure, but do not regulate enough to prevent a business from becoming so integral to the economy that it would cause a financial catastrophe if it failed. But we haven't seemed to learn this lesson, as the banks and insurance companies that were the central cause of the economic crisis are beginning to rise again. The concentration of wealth in certain spheres is the byproduct and the correlative cause of the slow recovery the country is experiencing and most likely will cause more busts in the future.

Will we ever learn?

Memoria - Pages 32 & 33

Memory Introduction - Pages 32 & 33-ish

Salty granules whip through salty air and fly through now-salty wisps of hair that whip against The Boy's cheek. Chunks of dirt crunch underneath his boots as he makes his way across the long abandoned road. Now surrounded by trees, the sound of silence encroaches upon his incessantly noisy universe. The sea stretches out before his eyes. The only sounds left are the wind and the waves; both crashing interminably against whatever has the gall to interrupt their serendipitous journeys. He reaches down and grinds sand slowly between his thumb and index finger.

—To see the world in a grain of sand.

The Boy is as surprised as his surroundings at the suddenness of the adage as well as the new rasp his voice had acquired. The silky tone of his vocal cords had temporarily shifted to the earthy husk that always reminded him of a rasp rubbing against tree bark.

Dust flies off long locked tumblers as they turn rapidly within his mind. He slowly opens his palm so the remaining particles of sand are swept from their hitherto resting place of infinity into a spiraling tailspin. His eyes watch each granule without seeing any. The sand has unconsciously mimicked the vortex that has overtaken his conscious being. He slowly travels down the hallowed hallways of long repressed experiences ushered deep within his psyche. Memories he himself had locked behind thick, ancient oaken doors with rusty hinges and dust-caked jambs. He knows exactly where it is, but it has always been too painful to remember in its entirety. Yet he finally finds the right key and the day comes flooding back, overtaking his conscious mind with its force.

The Pen Is Mightier

"A picture is worth a thousand words;"
But pictures never change.
The picture's meaning fades
Like rust on a thousand swords.
Words have much longer range
and infinitely sharper blades.

Detached

Sometimes I feel like I live in a separate world from everyone else. Sometimes I feel by my very nature that I am completely and utterly different than everyone; even my closest friends. I live in a quandary of never quite fitting into groups of people. It is a quandary because I want to feel a sense of belonging, but I also don't. I'm not a group person, I'm a people person. I like interacting one on one. But sometimes, even that makes me feel estranged. As a writer, I have to observe which is just one more set of icing on the cake of my bubble world. With that sentiment in mind, this is a poem I wrote one day while sitting in this quagmire of other-worldliness.

Detached

I live separate from this world.
This world, this life, this time
Is a language foreign to my ear
As others take the wheel to steer.

I stare at people walking by,
Driving by, riding by, biking by,
Busy going places, living lives
While I observe it from outside.

Each one acting their own little play
Through song and dance on their stage.
I sit and watch them all portray
Their hearts from this self-made cage.

I sit and decay in a plastic chair
Wondering who, what, why and where
People go when they stop being fraught
With indecision wrought from a prison of thought.

Originality is Overrated

The amount of words you use is directly correlated to the originality of the combination of words.

Say one word. It is 100% certain that someone has said it before you. That is why it exists as a word.

Say two words. The likelihood of someone saying it before you is slightly diminished, but still remains well over 99%. I said. You were.

Apple brain. Not very common, but I'm sure in the history of the English language it has been said before.

Dodo shampoo. This one is still possible, though I'd say the chances of it having never been said before are slightly higher than apple brain.

Heretofore mayonnaise. I'm guessing this one might be original. But then again, throughout the entire history of the English language....who knows?


Now string three words together. The likelihood goes down yet again. Although the percentage would still be well over 99% considering the amount of three word combinations in the English language that make some semblance of sense. (Go ahead, dare me to find a legitimate use for the two word combinations above) But it would be slightly more likely to have never been said than a two word combination.

String more than ten words together and now it gets interesting. The sheer amount of English words mean the combinations are almost endless, but the amount of sentences that have been said in the history of the English language is so vast, that the percentage might still be over 99%...but now, I bet the average person could come up with some combination that has a chance of being original.

My real question here is when the cliff comes in. At what point does the percentage of originality fall off and start its rapid reduction to zero? Because it does eventually reach zero.

Take a novel. The average one is roughly 100,000 words. Those 100,000 words are strung together to form a coherent combination of words that is most likely completely original. I doubt the same 100,000 words have ever been independently written in the same sequence once in the history of the English language. Quite a limb I'm going out on there, eh?

I'd be very interested in which was more likely, 100,000 words being independently the same or coming up with a two word combination that has never been said.

Cantankerous onomatopoeia. Get back to me if you've ever heard that one before.