A Little Perspective

Hopefully, everyone read that in Anton Ego’s voice. Alas, we aren’t going to be dishing about food today. After the cupcake festival, I’m out on the culinary vein of life. But the inspiration for this post did come from the kitchen. Kind of. I happened upon it while working on those Frozen cupcake toppers.

What do cupcake toppers and perspective have in common?

On a run of the mill day, not much. Sitting hunched over a mat with a paintbrush in hand makes for strange bedfellows.

Adam issued a warning as set down his magnifying glass-lamp combo used for painting game figures onto the kitchen table. Be careful; this thing is going to make you obsess over every single detail. I heard the seriousness in his voice. He was not joking around.

Much like a child’s reaction to their mother, yelling, “Stop it before someone gets hurt,” I failed to heed his words. And like the inevitable result of said mother yelling those exact words, I sat at the kitchen table, getting more frustrated over the myriad of mistakes I was making.

At one point, I shut off the light so I could roll out another Elsa topper. I looked down at the one I had deemed a failure. It was not a failure. I small nick of paint here and there, but not a total loss After picking my jaw up off of the table, I realized this was what he had been talking about. How many times had he solicited my thoughts on a game piece with the caveat of “I made a mess of this one,” only to see a perfectly painted figure? (The answer to that question, friends, is every single time he has shown me a figurine.)

After a short break to kick myself for not listening, I went back to the project and adopted a light on/light off method. Whenever I was getting wound up about a stroke, I would shut the light off so I could evaluate it under normal light and correct from there. To say my progress on the cupcake toppers improved considerably with this method in place is extremely accurate and a severe understatement. It’s also why I didn’t mention the stupid lamp in the ensuing article. At the time, I didn’t have time to really think about this “aha!” moment. Cupcakes needed adorning after all. Just about a week later, I think the moment has been marinating long enough. My nitpicking that afternoon extends well beyond cupcake toppers.

As a kid, I thought to get to adulthood, well at least college, would mean an end to the persnickety comments and bullying. In a way, I wasn’t wrong. Adults are more mature. Generally refraining from blunt and overt attacks. Opting instead for the more refined route of passive-aggressive jabs and swipes. By far, a more civil and personable way to socialize. That said, the direct commentary persists. Because I have kept it running myself all of these years. I’m a bully.

A harsh criticism. Maybe a bit off on language. Perhaps self-nitpicker would be more appropriate. Either way, I’m guilty.

I’m not the only one who does this. Can’t say for sure, but probably everyone has caught themselves doing the same thing at one time or another. If you’re one of the folks that have no idea what I’m talking about, The best way, I think, to describe these bouts of incessant critique is an acne breakout. More things that don’t really go together? Really, Nicole? Yes. These two things are closer than they appear. Trust me.

Kicked off by nearly imperceivable detail. Generally benign but not without an occasional twinge of pain. Almost impossible to predict when it’s going to show up. Awkwardness and annoyance immediately ensue following an outbreak. In some cases, this dissolves into oozing pustules of temporary self-loathing and full-on embarrassment. The concealment options are to keep everything buttoned up, hoping there are no astute observers around without filters. They sound similar now, don’t they?

All of this persnicketiness is nonverbal, for the most part. Which means it can happen whenever and where ever. The only exception I can think of is in front of the bathroom mirror. I end up doing this in front of the bathroom mirror anyway. Any reflective surface allows for a faux two-way conversation. In these sojourns into everything that’s wrong with me, I can be pretty damn mean. Not all of the time. But, it’s easy to get down and dirty when it’s just you.

As these bouts fade back out of the forefront of my mind, I can’t help but think it would be great to be able to take a vacation from myself. Being able to press a button and completely change the lens you’re looking at, well, everything through.

It’s one of my little imaginings like the fantasies conjured up when the lotto jackpot gets up into the insane figures. You know you’re never going to realize the lotto fantasy. Fun for the short time you spend in it, though. I’ve read enough science fiction to know exactly how haywire this good-intentioned thought could go. So, it is just a fluffy bit of escapism acting as a salve.

Evolution and survival instincts, you get a pass. Learned behaviors, you too. I’m not going to play the blame game here, as fun as it may be at times. The soapbox isn’t about to come out either. I’m not up for railing on how I should change, ways to improve, and the goals I should set. I’ll leave all of that to the stacks upon stacks of books written by more educated and learned people than myself.

Why am I sitting here talking about this if I’m not going to dissect why it happens and spin this into a New Year’s resolution? Well, as the meme goes, I don’t know who needs to hear this but, you’re not alone nitpicking the hell out of yourself and don’t sweat feeling weird about it and letting that voice use it against you.