Here, take a look at this:
This sort of thing just kills me every time I look at it. So much so that I literally hate to look at it. (Not modern – not really, in reality – “literally,” but old school – I chose the word with care – “literally.”)
But why, huh? If you share my affliction, you’ll know already. If you don’t, well, lucky you.
In this unfriendly form, there is far too much space next to “Zip,” and far too little next to “Email.” Seen through the eyes of a normal person, I’d wager this is no big deal – or even ‘unnoticeable.’ To my eyes, however, these are two glaring and horrible mistakes. Ugly, avoidable things that really, really, really should have been avoided. Providing such scant space for an email address is mean-spirited and cruel.
Some days I reckon it’s ok to be a perfectionist, perhaps even commendable. Most other days, I simply wish I wasn’t one. Unfortunately, however, the evidence of more and more experience tells me you can’t just switch it off. In a more unforgiving sort of mood, I’d go so far as to argue it’s nothing more or less than a character flaw I’m neither smart nor strong enough to shake.
Being a perfectionist is exhausting. It means putting excessive effort into things and then still not being satisfied with the results – a weird, hollow feeling that forever fails, somehow, to be instructive. Oh, to happily half-arse something! I wish….
I know, such terrible navel-gazing. Let me wrap this up, then, with two broader questions. One, why is the dividing line between our best and worst qualities often so thin? And, two, why is there such a huge gap between self-knowledge and finding a useful way to apply it?
Today’s post soundtracked by: