By nature, I am a highly productive person; so productive, in fact, that I tend to render myself ineffective by pursuing perfection in too many directions at once. Perfect runner, perfect bodybuilder, perfect budgeter, perfect student, perfect employee, perfect daughter/sister, perfect friend, perfect ex-girlfriend, perfect homeowner, perfect book reader, perfect chef, perfect drinker, perfect leader, perfect peer, perfect fucking product of fucking perfection.
Some of these things might not even seem as though they can be something perfect. Perfect book reader? Yes; with just the right taste in material, and just the right amount of time set aside to absorb and learn without wasting any time, one can be a perfect book reader.
The funny thing is, my perception of perfection is constantly changing as my world view changes. Therefore, it never really exists, and it just as unattainable. Perfect drinker? Some weeks that's a perfect taste in wine, others, the best martinis, expensive vodkas, local brews, high-end cocktails; most of the time though, sobriety.
Certain things are the kryptonite of my intended productivity, however, and they get me. Every. Single. Time.
Perfect employee? Let one more customer pour half a cow's worth of cream in his coffee and then dare to tell me it's cold.
Perfect runner? Fear of mediocrity, resulting in minimal recovery time and maximum occurrence of injury.
Perfect chef? The skinny obsession.
Perfect student? Throw me some BroScience Life Youtube channel.
Perfect book reader? Thinking about all the other productive things I should be producing while productively reading a book.
Perfect budgeter? Sales. Ironic.
Perfect ex-girlfriend? A heart made of flesh.
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