I have seen so many good and capable and smart people in my life do so little due to the petrifying possibility of perceived failure. Failure in the sense that the end-product did not live up to their impossibly high standards. I consider myself somewhat of a perfectionist–I’m detail-oriented, organized, controlling. Some of those to healthy degrees and some to not-so-healthy obsession levels, depending on the project. But, when push comes to shove, I will half-ass the hell out of something to meet a deadline. I may not feel good about it and there might be a whole lot of whining about how it could have been better–but I will get ‘er done. I may be consistently, dependably late to social functions but I am not late to work. I may be capable of many long sleepless nights but I’ve yet to meet a deadline I didn’t, um, meet.

I think it’s about seeing the big picture. I just threw this ridiculous Halloween party. I was thinking about it and planning it out in my brain for months. I had all these ideas for really specific details and got super excited about making decorations and just going all out. Which, isn’t really typically my deal. I mean, I can throw together a pretty sweet cheese plate but I’m never up for hostess-of-the-year, or month, or anything. So, I’m thinking it all comes down to inspiration. If you’re inspired and excited by something then planning and prepping and crafting and whatever-ing is fun. It doesn’t feel like work, right? And, if you start far enough in advance it isn’t even stressful. Make a few tissue paper flowers here, cut some foam doorknobs there, bake in advance (throw it in the freezer), rope in some friends (craft night!), and keep the big stuff simple. Wow, I love how I just got totally preachy, like I actually know what I’m talking about. I most definitely do not know what I’m talking about. This is probably the first successful party I’ve ever thrown. And, I’m not sure anyone actually had any fun. But, at least shit looked pretty.

Anyhow, I diverge from my point. Minutiae. This is what I wanted to talk about. And, how some folks get so focused on the teeny, tiny details that they just can’t let go and relax if a line isn’t straight or a flower isn’t puffed just so. It drives me crazy. Let it go and move on. It will look fine amongst the fifty other flowers. Who cares if that one isn’t perfect? But, that’s the thing. Those of us who obsess can’t just tell that little voice to shut up. It is a very loud and very obnoxious voice. Like, that fucking parrot from Aladdin mixed with Fran Drescher in The Nanny. But, amplified by the dudes from Spinal Tap, so, you know, up to eleven. So, yeah, that would be hard to ignore. And, here’s the thing of it. It’s a real problem. I don’t mean it’s a significant one. I mean, it’s a genuine issue that a lot of people struggle with. The tablecloth has to be the exact shade of blue and it doesn’t matter if it takes five online shopping hours and an entire afternoon driving around. We will find the right tablecloths or we will not move on to the next item on the list.

It is infuriating. It is mind-boggling. Because, I would have grabbed the first tablecloth that was mostly right and moved on to the cutlery. Ugh, first world problems, am-i-right? But, for real. We’re talking about actual, real issues here. Like, an inability to surrender a single ounce of control–an unwillingness to let go of one small section of your vision. It’s exhausting is what it is. And, then you do things like cancel your wedding reception because you can’t handle the stress of finding matching tablecloths. That’s maybe when you realize you need help.

I mean, this is not just something you can talk people out of. And, in some ways I look at that level of attention–that commitment to a pure vision–and I kind of envy it. I am baffled by it and it makes my feet annoyed and my toes get all squiggly and I bite my lower lip a lot and pick at my fingernails and have to take long, controlled breaths so I don’t scream–but I’m also kind of impressed by the level of dedication. Like an artist being unwaveringly true to her craft–taking no shortcuts, refusing any substitutes. Maybe folks who struggle with this issue are just artists whose canvas is life. Aquamarine blue! Not sky blue, not ocean blue, definitely not blue-green, but aquamarine blue. I mean, I bet Picasso didn’t let just anyone mix his paints…

Deep thoughts tonight, guys. Look out.