Perfectionism

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor”. I read this in a book about how to write - “bird by bird” by Anne Lamott.

Ironically, I picked up this book in the hopes that I will be able to write “perfectly”. If I keep reading about how to write, eventually, the first thing I write will be a pulitzer winning book or an oscar winning screenplay. Scratch that, I am a tad bit fancier - I will actually write a palme d’Or winning film.

Alas, I am writing this piece, finally, to say that because of this I have not been able to put anything down on the paper yet. Hence, the quest to be perfect is killing the part of me that wants to write.

This makes me ask myself - why DO I want to write? Why is this important? Why can’t I live my life like the rest of the world, that does the job, earns the monies, eats the steaks, sleeps the nights, and travels to live. For that weekend at least.

It’s arrogance. It’s that nasty arrogance where I make myself believe that what I feel and what I am experiencing and how I perceive the world is different. I see what most people cannot or maybe do not want to see. I have a unique perspective of the world and the things in it.

For instance, get this -

One of my pet peeves is that it bothers me when someone calls people out when they are experiencing something in that moment. Say you are hanging out with a group of friends, drinking or hitting a blunt, and one friend breaks out of their reality and starts to enjoy themselves. They look alive, their inhibitions not able to control their actions - living in the moment as they say. In that moment, if someone looks at this person and says - “wow, you’re so drunk/high/different than usual right now, I have never seen you like this”. This takes away everything that person was feeling and you make them conscious and bring them back to this reality. You will never see them like that again. I hate this.

See - isn’t it fascinating? I get thoughts like these very often, and I feel this is very important. So, I have to note them down somewhere.

Another peek into my fascinating mind, here it goes - there should be an application avaliable on your phone that gives a new painting, or a picture of a modern art, or a photograph, or a similar form of art that can be interpreted. We get 5, maybe 10 minutes to look at it and decipher the art if you want to gameify it. Then, after the alloted time is finished, we get access to the actual interpretation and meaning of that piece of art. In my honest opinion, this is genius. It helps create an art infused society where it increases the respect and value of art, makes us think, and takes people away from the trash that they have been made to consume.

When I keep these thoughts to myself, tucked away in my notes app, I feel great. Then, sometimes, I look at these random, pointless observations of the world and feel entirely stupid too. What is the point of this, I say.

So, I am starting this, putting myself out there, where no one will probably read it, or maybe they do, but that’s not the point.

I’m starting this imperfectly. Maybe this is stupid, it’s laughable, it does not make sense, the writing is bad. Whatever. I’m not reading about writing, I’m not taking a course anymore, I am not watching something about writing - I’m just writing. Writing imperfectly!

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Varun Choudhary

Feb 10, 2025