the awesome/terrifying freedom

so i've come to yet another realization: perfectionism is a curse.
it's also a beautiful thing, yes, but it's mostly a curse.

the perfectionist goes to see a movie, the movie sucks. the perfectionist is shocked that such talentless people are actually working: talentless writer, talentless director, talentless actors. how the hell is this stuff getting made? why, the perfectionist asks, am i not working in the same field? i am at least as good as they are, hell i'm better!

and the reason is because the perfectionist has a petrifying fear of failure. rather than be less than perfect, the perfectionist attempts nothing, does nothing, and in doing so, never learns, never grows. perhaps the petrified perfectionist's only developed skill is that of criticism. and that skill, being so honed, frightens the perfectionist even more, because should they put work out into the world, that work would be dissected by others with the same fine scalpel they gleefully used to cut with themselves.

i've been here almost a year now. i think it's nearly time to take another big risk. one that would have me land flat on my face, but one that would have me put work out into the world, face the firing squad, get better, learn, and grow.