Perfectly Imperfect

I should be gearing up for our home opener—the red, white and blue.

I should be with my teammates, laughing and enjoying the festivities. 

If not that, as I much rather watch football on the tele than in the 90 degree heat, I should stop watching Scandal, but I can’t get enough of Miss Pope and Associates, of Fitz and his drama, of Cyrus Beene and his baby—Miss Rhimes, thank you. We didn’t know that this was the content we needed. 

I should be helping Jordan figure out her shit, but it’s been a long week. 

‘Should’ is a strange word isn’t it? Incredibly overused, and on a long list of catalysts for self-hatred. Correct me if I’m wrong, but at least once a day, we all utter it. Whether it be to ourselves, our partners, best friends, whoever. We do it because there is clearly some disconnect between who we want to be, and who we actually are. The latter ordinarily doesn’t reflect our human nature of imperfection. 


We’re supposed to louse things up! 

We’re supposed to ruin relationships, and fail to complete tasks, and to regress, and to disappoint ourselves and others, then ultimately find a way to pick up the pieces. Take the tale of Italian Stallion: the entirety of this classic series is that an unlikely man becomes a hero because he kept getting his ass up. He wasn’t perfect, and we love him for it. He was a nobody, a knucklehead, who was granted an opportunity and did things to make other things happen. We love watching him drink raw eggs, sweat through what seemed like the only grey sweatsuit he owned, and become the fighter we will always need him to be. I could go on because I love each and every one of those movies (some more than others), but the point is this: you can’t appreciate the sun if you haven’t been soaked over and over again. Please keep in mind that I am in no way glorifying tragedy, hardship, struggle or anything remotely close to it—to hell with grief and suffering! I like to think I am a gratuitous individual on the regular without it, but more importantly, I happen to believe that the aforementioned things are overlooked. We focus too much on the tip of the iceberg, and thus neglect the things lurking beneath the surface. If you look there, you’ll find the real shit. The not so marketable behaviors that too many people partake in to get to the top, to escape the fear of failure, to live up to expectations, or become someone of which they can be proud. On the flip side, by looking deeper, you can grasp the gravity of the process. You will find how mind-numbingly difficult it can get, or how painstakingly detailed, focused, or vulnerable you have to be— the beauty is in the details. 

No matter how you look at it, the successful people we admire have stories and believe me, they’re flawed just like the rest of us. The sooner we accept that perfection is a myth in the context of imperfect creatures, we give ourselves an opportunity to enjoy ourselves, those around us, and the circumstances in which we find ourselves just a little bit more. 

In my past life and occasionally in my current, I have smacked into countless walls of frustration, negative self-talk, and overall depleting self-worth before I realized that this ‘perfect’ doesn’t fucking exist and that’s okay. For those of us who still need to scratch that itch, it may not exist, but we can come damn close. 

LESSON: You’re human, and it’s about time you recognized it.

Consider this piece to be the shortest of short cautionary tales; I’m just trying to save you from yourself if you’re at all like Jordan and I. 

P.S. If you’re not like Jordan and I, don’t go out there being too human. What I mean is that it’s okay to take the path with greater amounts of resistance because who want to be is waiting at the other side of it. 

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