On Perfectionism

My motivation for writing tonight isn't quite so hot, so you, faithful reader, may be facing a 15 minute stream of consciousness rant to help me accomplish my goal for the week (although I think I already wrote my requisite 2 posts for the week.  Did I say I was only going to write 2 posts and not 3 so as not to overwhelm myself?  If not, now I did).

My march toward my mini-goals or many-hobbies proceeded well this week.  I missed a few nights of drawing, but still picked up a pencil for the majority of the week.  I also started playing another jazz tune - Fly Me to the Moon - to give me something additional to chew on.

I'm staring at my sketch book in the background, and I'm happy with about half of what's on the page and a little unhappy with the rest.  Some days when I see this, I'm surprised that the next day I usually feel better about my prior work than I did at the time of creation.  Time was when I would grow so frustrated at my progress that I would either throw a tantrum or just quit for a few days (or years) in the belief that I just wouldn't be any good. 

Who knows, maybe I won't be any good.  But that's not the entire point.  Even if I'm horrible at guitar, drawing, French, Chinese, Spanish, and blogging, I'm better than I would be if I didn't try.  And, I suspect, that with practice, I'll be decent at all of these things.  I certainly won't be as good as someone who practices consistently or has natural talent that I lack, but I can still derive joy (and probably even some creative value) from these ventures over time.

A long time ago, an aunt of mine described me as a perfectionist.  I thought she was mistaken, because I didn't really think I was good at anything, and I always pictured a perfectionist as someone who continued to refine details past the point of necessity, but was talented at the task at hand regardless.

In retrospect, I was a perfectionist (and probably still am, but can manager it better).  I would pick up hobbies and be so despondent or angry if I couldn't make the progress I desired in the appropriate time frame, which means I was subject to so many stops and starts instead of just enjoying the value of a thing.  And this paralysis is specifically why I like my path for hobbies now.  Everything's sectioned off in 5 - 15 minute increments, so I know I'll never have to devote time every day to become the professional I envision.  I can enjoy the activity for the thing that it is, or in cases like today, I can simply sit down and bide my time, and then realize, with fascination, that the 15 minutes flew by, and I actually found my voice for the evening.