my dear aunt karla once again enlightened me with her wisdom: “there is no perfect word. the greatest word is the one that defies the pull of perfection, spontaneously conveying that which the mind unconsciously yearns for.”
Sem essa da palavra ou fala perfeita. Isso não existe, aliás nunca existiu. Em comunicação a grande palavra é aquela que escapa à perfeição, é daí que vem o bom texto. Quase falar como se fala, esconder ou ter inconsciente alguma coisa do pensamento que norteia. Na vida é sempre assim: …”a harmonia está no lance, do lance vem a construção do mundo.”
i’m done waiting for the perfect word in order to reply to an email or compose a blog post, or return a phone call. the perfectionist lives in a dull, never ending state of waiting for something; and perfection comes not even upon death. there’s no perfect occasion to wear those super hip retro bell-bottoms, hand-made vest or fresh out-of-the-box pair of salomon xt wings. life goes on while i’m paused waiting for the perfect moment to speak my mind. or the perfect alignment of stars and planets to finally allow myself the simple pleasure of reading a book i so impatiently checked the mail box everyday for. the time is now.
“right now catch that magic moment
do it right here and now
it means everything” -van halen, right now
so i blog. right now. i still think most of the people that end up reading my ramblings are accidental visitors, brought in by the fast streaming google waters, looking for serious running advice and instead being delivered pictures of blistered toes and feet that invariably seem to have a number of toenails that is always less than the number of toes. but lately i’ve actually had quite a few people telling me they miss reading my ramblings. some i wasn’t even aware knew i had a blog.
i enjoy writing. i never did when i was in school. my papers were always returned to me peppered with the teacher’s cruel, red and loud evidence of my grammatical offenses. semantics generally elicited a puzzling sequence of question marks (all red, of course).
now, as an adult, i’m learning that choosing silence for fear of imperfection would be the gravest mistake.