My voice teacher tells me that I think too much when I sing.
Of course, this isn't really anything new to me; the people who know me best have no problem identifying my slight case of OCD. At the age of six, I was first labeled a perfectionist by my loving and well-intentioned TAG teacher, Ms. Neal. At a parent-teacher night, Ms. Neal actually told my mom, "Trisha is so bright, but she spends all of her time trying to make her work perfect." And it's true. I've lived most of my life by a perfectionist's philosophy. Whether it's writing a blog or penning an article, writing is one of the more excruciating tasks I am faced with. I loathe the Scattered Writer's cycle of type-erase-type-erase, but I find myself falling into it unashamedly the majority of the time. I find writing to be daunting, because I know that what I produce will not only be subject to the scrutiny of others, but also to the more critical scrutiny of myself.
I'm starting to realize, though, that being obsessed with personal satisfaction and perfection is actually making for lower quality work.
"Just sing," my voice teacher says. "You already know the pitches, the rhythm, the words. If you stop thinking about what you already know how to do, you'll actually sound better. You'll be more expressive." Of course, these words apply to more than just singing. The purpose of writing isn't to state things perfectly - it's to make a point. Writing is an opportunity to be your own person by communicating the perspective that only you exactly have.
After reading Winesburg, Ohio, I'm beginning to realize how crucial the art of communication is. In "The Book of the Grotesque", grotesques are identified as people who dedicate themselves to a particular philosophy, or philosophies, and shut out the rest of the world because of it. As the old man in the story recounts, "it was the truths that made the people grotesques...the moment one of the people took one of the truths to himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became a falsehood" (17).
Now, the idea of embracing a new truth or ideal is not a bad one. It is each character's inability to communicate these truths with others, though, which pushes him or her into a state of chronic decay that is characteristic of the Grotesque lifestyle. Characters such as Wing Biddlebaum, Dr. Reefy, and Elizabeth Willard torment themselves by suppressing their own thoughts. Dr. Reefy puts all of his thoughts on paper, but allows them to crumble into small, round, paper pills in his pocket. Wing hides his hands - which used to be his chief source of communication before he was accused of molestation and banished from his hometown -, thus eliminating his primary means for expression. Elizabeth Willard rots away in her own home for the majority of her life, unhappy in her marriage, but unwilling to express these thoughts in any way, shape, or form.
To cut to the chase, I don't want to be a grotesque, or anything that resembles a grotesque too closely. My ability to put concrete thoughts on a page or expressive melodies into the air should not be obstructed by a silly fear of imperfection. When one word sounds dissonant in a line of many words, I'll morph my sentence to make that dissonance fit. When one note in a song doesn't quite fit the mood, I'll alter the mood of the next few measures to make for a more interesting piece.
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