When I was a young comic all I wanted to do is to go on stage for 5 minutes and make people laugh. Then I thought, “Fuck that man, they better pay me.” And then they started paying me and I went, “I am better than these cunts, I’m going to be a headliner” I became a headliner and then I went to the annual festival and did fucking that and then I went, “All right I better move to America to record my DVD.” So I recorded my DVD in America, “Yeah that’s fucking right”, and now I want to be a movie star and you know what, I’m not a movie star and I want to kill myself.
– Jim Jefferies
My name is James and I’m a perfectionist.
I write a blog called the Manifesto of Perfection which is about how I improve my life focusing on the areas of Creativity, Fitness, Money, Nutrition and Sex. Being a perfectionist I base my progress on my high aspirations, which the same time are often based on unrealistic standards.
Being a self-proclaimed perfectionist has advantages because I always look at how I can make my life better – I am actively aware when I am not reaching my full potential or wasting time watching TV (even if its watching an awesome show like Californication).
But it also sets a standard to myself which is not always attainable. This can create a bit of misery when things do not work out, such as not being in the job I envisioned when I went to university or having the body of a fitness model.
It also is bad for establishing any sort of relationships with the opposite sex, because the same high standards I apply to myself, also get applied to any potential partner, deep down I can’t help thinking “I can do better!”
I know perfection does not exist because the poor man who becomes a millionaire is still not happy because he wants to be a billionaire
I tell the world that I don’t care what people think, but deep down the perfectionist cares what everyone thinks.
I want to walk in a room and people to envy my look.
I want people to look at the girl on my arm and for them to think “How did he get her?”
I want to hold court with a crowd of strangers as they listen to witty anecdotes, while wishing they had a job as interesting and as well paid as mine.
Does perfection exist?
Do I truly believe perfection exists? Of course not, because if I did I could never see myself being truly happy. I treat perfection as a philosophical concept to help me aim towards my self-improvement goals.
Perfection is the guilt I feel when I skip the gym, or when I watch TV instead of writing.
I am probably not a true perfectionist in my life, because as someone once said to me.
“If you’re a perfectionist, why is your spelling and grammar so bad?”
So when I try new things I just give it a good go. Perhaps somewhere amongst the hardwork perhaps perfection will find me.