wax ideal

I’m at my Aunt’s and Uncle’s house for the night. They let me use their button maker for a school project which involved 50 unique, hand illustrated (with use of a graphics tablet) vegetables and fruits. I’ll maybe post photos at some point. Following that I did a brochure for the campus writing center, again by hand. It feels so good to abandon technology sometimes, or at least, to connect with it in a more natural way.

Anyhow. I realized something. I am completely anal and a perfectionist when it comes to the work I do, when/if I do it. I’m getting better, I swear. I trick myself into moving on and getting things done. But that’s all it is-a trick, a loophole that lets me override my natural proclivity for innane fumblings which yield only marginal improvements, yet make me feel like a million bucks.

I am this way because of my Father, and my Uncle. I came to this realization while in the bathroom, nursing an upset (probably stress-induced) stomach. It was there, in the room that my Uncle made with his tools and hands, that I realized his attention to detail. I then thought about the meticulous work my dad does, for no one but himself. The sheets upon sheets of hand-written spreadsheets tracking his stocks, soccer scores, and other things important to him. And though completely different men in their abilities, understandings, and pursuits, they both share that immense ability to produce amazingly detailed work.

So while I am lucky to have inherited and gleaned this trait, it is something I try to override, to circumvent. I need to learn to focus it, hone it into a surgical tool and wield it with effortless grace-lest it consume me.