Perfectionism and the Art of Reloading

I’ve always been a perfectionist in all the aspects of my life that don’t matter.

When I was little, I used to worry that if you stayed underwater too long in Ocarina of Time, and the timer started going down–that the timer would then start off at whatever number it was down to the next time, therefore ruining a “perfect” file. I didn’t like the way boulders were permanently gone when you blew them up, so I tried to only destroy the ones that were necessary, or all of them entirely. No-Deaths obviously was a must. I’ve made plenty of “perfect” Ocarina files in my life, and what’s that amount to? Nothing.

My Uncle once was trading me a Pokemon in one of the old GBC games, but he had given it a nickname. I asked him if he could change it before trading it to me, and he refused. In hindsight, that was maybe a little lame of an adult to not do for his nephew, but it’s also another example of me caring way too much about something petty. It was one of the Legendary Birds, and I was upset that it had a nickname because I never nicknamed any of my Pokemon.

“It’s all so tiresome.”

It hasn’t gotten much better over the years. RPGs, or even any games with RPG elements are almost unplayable to me unless they have New Game+ or repec options, because I’m so afraid of “missing” something or “making a mistake.” Meanwhile my entire fucking life has been a series of mistakes.

If I cared about things like how I treat girlfriends or how I manage time or how productive I am or how committed I am to specific or even vague goals, like “learn to play the guitar” anywhere close to how I seem to care about absolutely trivial nonsense in video games (which itself is trivial nonsense–so we’re on TWO LAYERS OF TRIVIAL NONSENSE) then my life would  be much better. I’d be much happier, much more successful.

There’s literally no excuse for me not having a wife and children at my age. Well sure, there’s excuses, but none of them are good ones. I could blame my parents for not pushing me hard enough in school and not teaching me enough, I could blame video games even existing and consuming my entire youth, and that’s fine and true. But it’s also useless. It doesn’t change anything. Muda muda muda muda

Any time not being dedicated toward the advancement of your goals is time wasted, and any care spent on things that ABSOLUTELY DON’T FUCKING MATTER–like getting riled at politics and news that does not DIRECTLY affect you (in the sense of armed officers of the state literally arriving at your door to steal your property and put you into a camp), or fucking caring about commercial products/pop-culture drama and any such trash like super hero movies and celebrity thoughts and worthless nerd garbage like Loot Crates or fucking whatever new Apple products are coming out. ANYTHING. EVERYTHING.

Whether it’s good or bad energy, it’s still stealing your energy and it’s ultimately worthless, unless it’s actually your career and you’re actually making money from caring about whatever it is, and you’re using that money to build yourself and your family.

Perfectionism and its annoying prick cousin Procrastination gang-banging me is getting old, just like I am.

Perfectionism should fuck off and make way for Productivity (that’s not to say something can’t be perfect– but that’s not what perfectionism is. Perfectionism is the excuse to lack productivity in the first place) and Procrastination should fuck off and make way for Urgency.

I’m justifying wasting time writing this because if I don’t get these thoughts out here, I’m going to turn to Faceberg or something and start brainlessly scrolling. Today’s going to be a productive day. Every day should be. If you’re not moving forward with purpose, you might as well just be fucking dead because you’re killing yourself.

Eh.

–Ray

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