Wednesday, August 4, 2010

unabashedly imperfect

It's 9:30. I should be much more tired than I am. I think working out at 5 a.m. every morning has reduced my body's dependency on sleep.

Because I like to observe my own neurosis, and because I believe my neurosis is not unique and likely matches your neurosis, which makes it a shared neurosis between most people and therefore probably really shouldn't even be called "neurosis" but instead should just be called human nature, I would like to recant the frenetic brain activity that happened after my last blog post, the song blog:

Neurosis: This is attention seeking behavior. Stop, immediately.
Rationality: Why is posting a song blog any more attention seeking than posting a word blog?

Neurosis: This song is horrible. You suck. You are horrible. You should be ashamed. Stop, immediately.
Rationality: It doesn't have to be good if it's honest.
Neurosis: Yes, it does. Why do anything at all if you can't do it perfectly, Idiot?
Rationality: But, there is no such thing as perfect.

Neurosis: Maybe, but this is really awful. Be ashamed. Stop.
Rationality: But, isn't it liberating to publicly and freely acknowledge your own awfulness? To bare your limited skill set and failed attempts? Isn't it soul-freeing to bite the dust of imperfection in front of lots and lots of people? Isn't that the only true way to find joy--to release all unrealistic expectations for self and just...be?
Neurosis: No. Stop.

Rationality: But, maybe someone somewhere won't think it's awful. There is an audience for awful things. Just listen to all that weird obscure indie music. They can't even sing, and people love them!
Neurosis: They have horrible taste and their opinions don't count.
Rationality: But it's not okay to cap honest expression based on outside opinions.
Neurosis: Have you no pride?
Rationality: Yes, I have too much.

Anyway, just a sampling.

Another frenetic dialogue is happening right now as I type. But I'm going to just leave it at this.

Good night. Sleep tight. May tomorrow be wildly and unabashedly imperfect, and may you fail publicly and not give a flying tin can of shit.



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