Chasing the Dragon

The phrase “chasing the dragon” originated in China, referring to the act of smoking opium, usually with a piece of aluminum foil. It’s often used colloquially to describe the futile attempts of an addict to replicate that elusive feeling of their first high, taking larger and larger doses, but never quite getting there. In a broader sense, it can really describe any obsessive task that results in diminishing returns.

Excluding a lifelong penchant for poppy seed muffins, I’ve never tried opium. And aside from Agalloch, the shit they put in Pepsi, and those potato cakes from Arby’s, there has never been any substance I’d consider myself “addicted” to. Having said that, I’ve spent most of life chasing a particularly slippery wyvern of my own, perfection.

You hear it every day, those charming little idioms people come up with as an excuse to accept their own mediocrity. You usually see them plastered in bold Arial font over charming forest backdrops all over the social media accounts of that bored housewife up the road who read a book about Confucius twenty years ago. You know the one I’m talking about. “Perfection is born of imperfection.” Contradictory. “Don’t aim for perfection, aim for ‘better than yesterday’.” Cute, but useless. “Perfection is impossible, just be.” Even the impeccable James Cameron backs these clowns up, going as far as to leave us this quaint beatitude; “People call me a perfectionist, but I’m not. I’m a rightist. I do something until it’s right, and then I move on to the next thing.” Interesting, if only he had applied that scintillating perspective before green-lighting the bloated mess that was “Titanic.” Whatever the lesson supposedly was, and whoever the teacher, my brain missed that day.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always strived for perfection in whatever I willingly seek to do. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing right. Note the disclaimer, whatever I “willingly seek” to do. Rarely do practical matters of everyday life or happenstance fall under that umbrella. Becoming the perfect employee? I work to live, not the other way around.  Seeking the perfect balance in my interpersonal relationships? Irrelevant. The perfect lawn? Fuck it, do a once over and I’m done. Financial perfection? Please, I need that Deathspell Omega double LP with the hand printed slipcase. Pretty much anything your typical person considers important I approach with atypical malaise, but I’ll be a dead man before I ever watch that last Harry Potter movie without first watching all the other ones again in chronological order. This line of thinking is exactly why I can’t play a video game without first reading the manual, and that game better be the first in the series or I’m backtracking. It’s why I never listened to Opeth before owning all their albums. God forbid I approach any new task without first reading a WikiHow guide on how to do it the “best” way. But wait, there’s more! If I can’t do something perfectly, I either won’t do it, or it will get set on the backburner until I can do it “just right.” If I start something perfectly but slip up in the smallest way, it gets dropped, put off to another day, and restarted. In so many words, infinite procrastination is at hand! It’s like a constant voice in my head telling me there is always a better way. Understand, I don’t intend to paint myself out as some sort of savant who fails to wipe his ass properly but can quote the entirety of Malazan: Book of the Fallen (although it is a fantastic series). I am a functioning adult, I have a job at International Paper which I’ve held for several years, a girlfriend I am very happy with, and a very good cast of friends and family I feel blessed to have. In addition to my hobbies, I do my best to be responsible and healthy in body and mind. But in all these things, my neuroses eventually catch up with me.

My life goes through cycles. Day one, I wake up, workout, eat a balanced breakfast, meditate, read up on world events, go to work, shower, read, journal, sleep for eight hours. This may continue for up to a month in some cases. But if on the thirty second day I slip up and miss a workout, or do these things in the wrong order, or eat a donut, it leads to the next logical step, SELF DESTRUCTION. After this small mishap, I’ll likely spend the following couple weeks accomplishing nothing productive in my spare time, eating MOD Pizza for three quarters of my meals, over indulging in thirty-year-old computer role playing games, and re-watching the back catalog of Anthony Fantano instead of doing something like exercising, picking up my guitar or writing. Even this piece was held off until the aesthetics and format of this blog was exactly the way I wanted it, with several “How to WordPress” articles under my belt. Is it ridiculous? Yes. Is it toxic? Certainly. Do I likely have undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder? Probably. But I don’t know any other way to live, I’ve tried, but it just feels half-assed.

What does any of this have to do with this blog you ask? I’m still figuring that out myself. But if there is one thing I know for sure, I want to be a writer. I think the key to success in life is balancing what you want with what you’re good at, and I think that path for me lies in writing, because I feel like I’m competent at it, that I’ll improve further with practice, and it is one of few professional avenues in life where you can work when you want and from the comfort of your own home. But to be a writer, you must write. You must write a lot. So far in this introductory post, which I’m sure half the people who clicked on it have already stopped reading, we’ve established three definitive truths. I’m a perfectionist to a crippling extent, I want to be a writer, and to be a writer you must write. Throw these things together and what do you get? This blog. A place to sharpen my skills writing, a place to speak my mind and to hold myself accountable in my pursuits, and a place to build something productive out of many very non-productive habits and interests. Above all, I want this blog to serve as my anchor, a place to gently nudge me towards picking up where I left off when I fuck up instead of jumping ship and starting over. I’m not sure what form this will take yet and what I may drift into. I will likely write about black metal, beer, video games, travel, my thoughts and introspection, and whatever tickles my fancy really, and I hope in time I find a niche. But to the three or four people who will read this, I can promise a lot of lists, a consistently unhealthy dedication to very particular hobbies, and a constant supply of self-deprecative humor and hilarious wit. Bear with me on this, it will get better, and I hope you enjoy the ride, or call me a cynical, pretentious asshole for that third paragraph, whatever you prefer. Cheers.