"Becca, your words are good, they are providing us a story."
Yes, but the best stories are the ones that are true. There are plenty of fantastical stories about mythical beings and places, but the things that make them truly amazing are the human and transparent qualities. No one gets excited about reading about fairies, elves, giants, warlocks, or witches any more. Really, it is the human qualities of these non-humans that make them interesting to read. Something about being able to relate to this characters, no matter how non-human, makes it worthwhile. We WANT to connect with these beings, but there has to be something to relate to.
If I'm always spouting off beautiful stories, then there isn't going to be anything genuine or real about them.
"Becca, beautiful things happen every day."
It's true. But there are also terrible things that happen everyday. It would be an injustice to all the happiness in the world if I simply wrote about those. And besides, nothing would ever change about the bad things if they were never addressed. Nothing makes the light shine brighter, or want to spread further, than the realization that there is a way to overcome the darkness.
See, I'm grasping at straws again. I'm trying to say something so enlightened and spectacular that I'm sounding like I'm on a soap box. Really, I'm not someone profound in any ways other than the fact that I am a human being. I don't live in perpetual happiness or enlightenment, rather I am always seeking more teachings and experiences.
I think this post got away from me...
Although I suppose this is a good realization to have. It's liberating (as well as terrifying), to know that I can put something out that isn't perfectly polished and beautiful. Because I always set out to do things with the expectation that I am able to do everything perfectly the first time around. I have this idea in my head that I don't need revision or correction, because everything that comes out of my head is perfect. And it isn't just an idea; if it isn't perfect, then it needs to become perfect. And if it isn't flawless, then there is no reason for me to be sharing it with anyone.I've definitely been infected with the disease called "Perfection".
I suffer from this debilitating disease that causes me to think that I need to be perfect at all times. I need to always present this side of me that never trips, never says a word out of place, who always looks spectacular. I feel the need to be this beautiful woman who carries herself confidently, who is humble about all her gifts, who knows how to bake, sew, and knit, who donates all of her money to charity, and who saves the world on alternate Saturdays. I think that if I show something human about myself then others will think it isn't good enough. They'll think it's ugly.
And I can't be ugly.
When I was a sophomore in high school, I was cast as Rose in the play "Dancing at Lughnasa". Rose is a middle-aged woman with a mental disability, and so she has a lot of different blocking and movement than the other characters in the play. Everything about her is more stiff, she walks on her toes, she talks to herself, she doesn't wear form flattering outfits. In one scene, where all of her other sisters are dancing this wonderful Irish folk jig, Rose is found in the center, pounding the floor in some primal manner. As a young woman, I couldn't bear the thought of being seen like this in front of my peers. I couldn't think of being anything less than the worldly ideal of a middle aged woman. Never mind the fact that several millions of people in the world are more akin to Rose than they are to the perfect ideal. But we still strive to get as far away from Rose as possible.
It took several weeks to overcome my dread of being cast as a less-than-graceful character. I loved dancing around on the stage and having a good time with the others. I didn't want to stand on stage awkwardly by myself, pounding on the floor with my heels, and having disgusting table manners at family dinners. What if people thought that I was like that in real life? Ignoring the fact that this was a production, I was terrified that people would see me portraying this character, and would see my own faults. I was worried that people wouldn't see how difficult this character was to create, but rather how I was like her, and how no one else was.
Needless to say, I am still like my sophomore self. I still shrink at the idea of being anything less than presentable at any time in my daily life. Everything I prepare must be perfect. My hair must look perfect. My speech must be perfect. I feel this pressure to be the perfect woman. Even though perfect is impossible.
So I think it's good that I can just bring forth these random soliloquy's of thought and know that there are others out there who are just like me. That suffer from this debilitating desire to be flawless. And I hope that by admitting my human qualities, that others will find the courage to admit theirs.
I cannot bake. I hate math. I trip over things when nothing is there. I walk in to the wall when I'm leaving a room. I say jokes that no one laughs at. I suffer from addiction. I gossip. I have negative thoughts. And even though I am working on all of these things, I am only human.
And we seem to think that everything human in us needs to be conquered. That everything accidental or embarrassing we do is punishable by death. But really, all the feelings of imperfection are purely human. We will never live up to the expectations that we place on ourselves. I never will. If I succeeded at everything I thought I should, there wouldn't be world hunger. Or rap music. Or political parties. But that isn't realistic of me to think that I can be the perfect person.
Why?
Because I am human.
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