01 August 2008

Perfection exists.

Take note of that dot.

This is not philosophizing. Neither, preaching. I was simply pissed at some idiot who kept uttering “Nothing is perfect” for the duration of a miserable 2-hour traffic jam. So I got me some peanuts, stared at some cute passengers waiting for buses on the shed, and struggled to keep myself from throwing my plus-size seatmate at the moron.

Then I tried to use what's left of my microscopic brain. It sounds highly rewarding, but due to natural human disbelief and basic idiocy, it goes on reverse and bars us to experience the very thing itself.

I'll keep this short, as I'm not as intelligent as theorem writers (and according to Mr Teacher, I nobody knew that “Nothing is perfect”. That dead pube.). And yes this is a sorta-disclaimer too.
Now. I see “perfect” as a mere limiter, its concept acting like cancer infesting our cores. It is originally a positive idea, almost always promising the best of light emotions to anyone who would aspire for it. Yet today perfection appears as a huge, immovable boulder blocking our systems. Per. Feck. Shun. Today I look at that word as an ironically debilitating concept: It stops us from feeling happy. Its “impossibility” sets us back... or sends us in all other directions but still with the same end. It forbids us from acknowledging happiness.

Porn diva: Simply, people are never contented. That's why.

But that is exactly the point: People DO get contented. But at that second when “Nothing is perfect” begins ringing in our senses, that's when we fail:

I get a free piece of my favorite donut. That's perfect! And I eat it with gusto (i.e. in three seconds flat—yes I'm a 5-foot monster). But if I start wanting ANOTHER free donut, the experience now becomes trash. I missed that point where I was happy with my free bread. It was perfect but now I'm stupidly back to nothing but, more unfortunately, greed. I missed perfection when it was right in front of me (glazed and all). There was perfection but now I'm unconsciously reminding myself that “nothing is perfect.”

What if it's already there? What if inside we already feel... satisfied? Things do become perfect but we let our jaded principles dismiss them in a split second and push us to want more...

There is perfection. It's happiness. Subjective as that emotion is, in our raw states it still means completely the same and gets us off the same way. It's a fleeting thing but come on, if we believe “nothing is perfect” then surely in our world “nothing comes for free” as well. What's a challenge every once in a while.

When speaking of perfection one may dream of spotless ecstasy or rally for eternal euphoria, but really,

Does it get any better than happiness?

QWERTY-ed by Paoper at 23:00 |  
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