My entire life I tried to do things right, I spent two decades perfecting the art of everything to the point my world started looking sterile. Pristine white walls with that exquisite picture just so, ikebana that is so common it has its lost meaning.
I can see the overflow of our quest for perfection, Botox beauties trying to freeze time. Lips, bosoms, rear ends, and faces getting plumped tucked and nipped. Everything from a snail, mud, blood, bird poo and the human placenta is smeared for a glow.
The world we live in has become so predictable that we are steeped in depression. We are either charging towards the edge of the mountains in search of an adrenaline rush or in a hurry to end it all. Plunging either to our deaths or for a moment of excitement, with a possibility of it.
The only time we use the words fresh and new is when describing fruits, never a thought. You know the world is a sanitized extension of our thoughts when people get excited at white being the new color of choice.
Books are written about how nothing is created, just old ideas remixed and how to do it effectively. We have analyzed creativity to its premature death with formulas deciphered to help innovation. Progress isn’t declared as such unless it is measured and compared. Everything needs a reference point in order to be validated.
Our expressions are censored, and our thoughts monitored, not just our conversations, messages, and emails. In our bid to be politically correct we have lost our right to make mistakes and learn true remorse. We do not have honest conversations just redacted thoughts that never truly understand their place.
Perfection has a new best friend, the desire to be flawless, in our thoughts, words, and deeds. In that, we have lost our humanity, our right to think, to feel, and to err. Our tears are induced by glycerin and our words scripted by professionals.
They say AI is a threat that looms in the distant future; I proclaim it is already here. We tend to emulate our ideal and can anything be more utopian than a faultless AI?
I cry a silent scream, an unheard plea, let’s bring in the human connection, the awkward hellos, the embarrassing gaffes, the silly ideas, the ridiculous outfits and the mismatched socks. Let’s take a detour; the best scenery is on that route and the best memories too.
It’s not every day that we remember from high school but our worst hair day, it wasn’t when we delivered a perfect speech but when we had stage fright that we recollect with astonishing detail, so let’s embrace the imperfect. It’s not what we did correctly in class but our mistakes that we learned from.
It’s not when someone is impeccable that we fall in love with them but when they show us their blunders and their quirky side. It is not a great memory when you smile just so, but it is when you throw your head back and snort the loudest guffaw.
It is not when someone is unblemished that you trust them but when you see their failings and know that they are human. It is when they fall and try to rise that you root for them, when they stand shamefaced and humiliated that you connect with them because we all know that moment. We all share that nightmare. It is what makes us human, our failings, our regrets, our pain and it is by our shame that we learn humility and compassion.
Conceal our mistakes, sanitize our thoughts and redact our actions and we will never learn or evolve. The world will indeed end up a stage where everyone will wear a mask and hide behind well-crafted personas. We will all be plastic, and the real will be equated with dirt to be swept away and disposed of.
In our quest for perfection, we will not only lose our creativity but our humanity. So let us celebrate the weird, the quirky and abnormal. Let us embrace the wrinkles, the scars, the blemishes and the crooked. Let us rejoice that we are human, imperfect and alive.