The Problem of Perfection

I’ve been hurled into a frenzy of thought by the revelation of the cover of my favourite band’s next single:

 

My initial thought was its interesting subtext. Of how it implies that perfection doesn’t entail beauty. And I still think it’s an amazing idea and an interesting sentence to have on the cover: it challenges the orthodox view of perfection. The orthodox view being that: amongst all the qualities that a perfect thing might have, beauty must be there. This cover states: a perfect thing doesn’t need beauty to be perfect.

Now, that’s great and slightly inspirational if you halt at that point.

However, in my consideration, I didn’t stop there. It made me think of what perfection actually is and whether it can exist.

When I think of “perfect”, the definition that comes to mind is: consistently having every favourable attribute imaginable.

So let’s consider Mr X and Mr Y. 

Mr X’s perfect lady is flawless in beauty and likes everything that he likes and to him has absolutely no imperfection.

Mr Y’s perfect lady must have flaws because otherwise, to him, she is cold and unreal. Mr Y’s perfect lady doesn’t need to be beautiful - that is immaterial. Mr Y’s perfect lady has all the right cons and all the right pros - a balance so right that it creates perfection to him.

To Mr X, Mr Y’s perfect lady has far too many imperfections and he detests her. To Mr Y, Mr X’s perfect lady isn’t perfect at all because he doesn’t think like Mr X and therefore barely gets along with his perfect lady.

Now, what we’ve got here is perfect being both perfect and imperfect at the exact same time. That is: P does not equal P. 

If then, perfect is not consistent, if one perfect clashes directly with another perfect, then is there any need for the constant search for it? Perfection as “consistently having all the favourable attributes imaginable” doesn’t exist, so what is the use in chasing something non-existent? You can’t try to be perfect because in doing so, you will never be happy. Pleasing everybody is an impossible action - that would only be realistic in a world wherein everybody was the same. And that’s not the case, nor would I like it to be the case. Things would be rather boring, then.

It seems that, although sometimes I forget, I have to remember that perfect is nothing and therefore nothing is perfect. Everything is imperfect - perfect lacks true meaning - and so no one thing is truly better than another. There is no agreeable scale. One can only act as one believes one should in order to exact desirable outcomes.

I don’t know what world I’m painting out with these revelations, but I’m getting closer to an understanding of how to be. And the problem of perfection seems to spiral back to the old adage of being yourself. But I think a better adage might be: be a self that makes you happy, despite external scrutiny.

It’s getting late. I’ll clock off now. 

The Internet is a Drug.

I've come to the conclusion that the internet works much like a hallucinogenic drug. What it does is: it simulates real life to trick you into thinking you are living, when in reality you're not. All you're doing is wasting your time, staring at a screen and not doing much at all. You're achieving nothing but the second-hand experiences of other people - and, although that is an experience in itself, it does not compare to you having gone out and lived yourself.

Take Facebook, for example, or some form of instant messenger. You are deluded by the Internet Drug into thinking that you are living and are doing something productive because, well, essentially you are speaking to people, you are communicating - you can see their photos and you can gather a sense of them from the tone of their writing. But take a step back and consider the reality of it.

The truth of it is that nobody can convey the true essence of exactly who they are on the computer/ in writing; there always lacks a certain aspect of their character or, in some cases, the quality of not being in-person completely changes their character. I suppose it's because body language is an intimate part of communication that is lost in virtual discourse - body language, whether we can consciously identify it or not, adds to the experience of speaking to somebody. It makes it more real - it adds so many more emotions lost in virtual discourse; in Real Life, we become more vividly flustered, more embarrassed at mistakes, more satisfied when a point is fluently composed, things are more interesting when we can see we've affected our interlocutor in some way. These are all things I welcome in a life wherein our time is limited and we must experience as much as possible. However, the veil of virtuality always takes away this raw essence from us! but by diluting the emotions, by dimming the rawness, it gives us confidence to speak out; it allows us to convey who we would like to be more precisely. That's the effect of the Internet Drug. By removing raw emotion, raw experience, it gives us strength and confidence. It allows us to be who we would like to be, but takes away from us who we are. And as you can tell, from previous posts, I'm an advocate of the truth and of experience, so - although, at first, the internet draws me in, on consideration - the idea repulses me.

We look at the pictures of others on the internet, we hear the anecdotes of others on the internet - it all accumulates and convinces us that we are living. It is not living. I can't stress that enough. The internet is a facsimile of real life wherein power and confidence is granted, but wherein the rawness of Real Life is detracted.  I would rather throw myself out into Real Life, powerless and without confidence, but slowly build it up with the raw materials I'm handed than to sit behind the artificial light of a screen, perusing the virtual world with my makeshift personality, "happy" as my body rots away.

Then the question is: how do we wean ourselves off this drug? How do we become clean? The only answer is to live. To go out and experience. It's a hard task because when we step away from the world the Internet Drug has provided us with, the rawness of Real Life bombards us, like a powerful ray of sunshine illuminating one who has emerged from his cave, and we almost want to cower and run back. But if we take a moment, and venture from our caves, we notice a world more beautiful. We can begin to add meaning to our lives.

And that's all we can do. There is no intrinsic meaning to life - life is a blank canvas; we enter like clueless artists, we use everything around us as our teacher, and only then do we paint with bright and vivid colours our own meanings. We create our own masterpieces. As far as I can see, the Internet Drug can only ruin that.

Live.

---------------------------------------------------

P.S. I'm not deluded enough to claim no benefits come from the internet at all - the point of this blog post is only to attack the internet becoming a lifestyle. The internet is another experience that we should partake in, but it most definitely should never become our primary activity.

On Experience

Let's begin by making plain the obvious: we only have a short time to live on this earth.

Every single one of us - me, Tom, Dick, and Harry; even you, you, the very reader of this blog - is going to die. There will come a day when we cease to exist in the knowledge of all those living - beyond that, who knows what happens? Perhaps we lose all recollection and become reborn, perhaps we simply enter oblivion, and cease to exist period. This, although interesting and frightening, is unimportant. The essential piece of knowledge is that we happen to have embodied a vessel that can express and experience many a fantastic emotion - we luckily became an animal that rules the world, that has a cognitive ability that far surpasses that of all other creatures here on earth.

No, I'm not going to tell you we should be grateful, I'm not about to preach, all I'm going to say is that we're lucky. We have this vast ability and this precious opportunity to experience the most interesting things, emotionally, physically, and what I propose with this blog post is that we take it.

Previous blog posts have exposed my naturally neurotic self - I'm not going to deny that, but now I think, perhaps, it isn't such an awful thing for others to misunderstand us. In fact, now I might suggest it is a vital experience for others to misunderstand us. One who first misunderstands is most likely to better understand later, for they have had the experience.

We've got a limited time in this world, and there is too much to experience - more than we ever will be able to - but we must experience as much of it as possible to fulfil our lives. We must engage in conversation with that girl who catches our attention - sure, we might horribly embarrass ourselves or might become devastated at the realisation that she won't ever love us, but it is another experience, one of the many that we must hungrily devour (for it will help us become stronger and our time is short); we must travel and experience new sensations, new cultures, many other interesting people that inhabit the world with us; we must tackle the mundane, partake in a job uninteresting to us, so that we absorb that experience also; but we must also chase our dreams as though our lives depend on it, because although there are many things to experience - all, I'd argue, as important as the other - what enjoyment can we take from life if we haven't experienced the one we most desired, our utmost goal?

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that: there is no bad, there is no embarrassing, there is no awkward, there is no objectively good, either - there are just a multitude of experiences, each as important as the other, each which we should perceive in a different manner from our fixed mental state of "good" and "bad".

What am I actually saying, you ask? Well, do something tomorrow that you always wanted to do but have perhaps put off when considering the consequences as bad. Instead, perceive the consequence as an important experience - be it your desired outcome or not - and just move on. We honestly don't have time to sit and worry and avoid doing due to fear.

Quit your job! Ask out that girl! Gather your money and move away! Approach that guy you think you might get on well with! Just do!

Experience! It's all we have.

And then we die.

Tired ramblings on Emotional Vanity, fit with abrupt ending.

I write this with that tangible feeling of sleep that surrounds the bottom of your eyes, like heavy fog. What I'm trying to say is: I'm tired. So if this is slightly disconnected or overly fluffy or just crap, that's why. But I haven't written a blog post in a while, and I do have something to say.

It's gotten to a point where I can't stand myself any more. I want to pause and consider myself. I'm still in the early stages of sixth form college, so in a way there is still possibility for me to recreate myself, but I hesitate at that idea. Why do I hesitate? I don't exactly disdain the character that I am; this isn't about self-hate. No, I like the person that I really am - I like this inner-me, so to speak, but it's difficult to reach him.

There are too many layers to me, layers of thought and care, that seriously need to be stripped back so my inner-self can become my prominent self. Let's make the distinction: the outer-me cares too much about the relation of himself to other people. That's his main problem. He cares about what people think of him; he cares about people liking him; he cares, generally, about making a good impression. This seems all good and well on the surface of things, but it isn't. It's - as Wittgenstein saw it, and as I agree - a horrid vanity. It's difficult to get over it, though. Caring too much about what people think of me makes it harder to interact with Truth; it makes it harder to be myself - I... It makes me lack confidence; it makes me shy - it makes me almost useless. As I see it, it creates empty connections with people - empty, hollow connections. Connections based on the fact that I want you to like me, so I've acted a certain way for that to happen. As opposed to: I've been myself and you've liked me, so we have a meaningful relation.

The problem is it takes a great courage - one that, perhaps, I don't have - to be yourself and to completely disregard what people might think of you. The light at the end of the tunnel in this scenario is the fact that you'll gain meaningful relationships as opposed to hollow relationships based on somebody who isn't truly you, but there is a risk... What if nobody likes the real you? How does one deal with being completely alone?

Realistically, I believe there would be at least one person who likes me - the real me, the me this blog sees - but it's a worry to me that people may not understand it... Perhaps they would like me and potentially a meaningful connection could be formed, but if I mis-present the real me, they won't get it, and that potential will be lost. But then, ah, aren't I now thinking too much about how to present myself - aren't I now being horridly vain?

It seems that vanity can, with near-certainty, bring about vapid relationships,
but only truth can, with almost no certainty, bring about meaningful connections.

There seems to be one imperative thing I need to learn, it seems, before I can form any new meaningful connections. That imperative thing being: I need to learn how to deal with being alone. Ah, but then that is counter-productive ... If I can deal with being alone, then what need is there for me to gain any meaningful connections? There would be none. Besides, I can't deal with being alone.

I just need to believe in truth. I can't change myself - more specifically, what I do is dilute myself so I'm, on first impression, more agreeable - if I'm to make meaningful connections. There can't be any dilution.

I need to drop my emotional vanity.