Nihiloptimism

I wrote in a recent review that I have difficulty balancing between anxiety and apathy. I either care too much or not enough. 

This manifests in my consumer habits. If I'm buying something for aesthetic or entertainment value, I tend toward apathy. Most art is great in one way or another, so variety drives my decisions. It's one reason Spotify is a guilty pleasure of mine: it's terrible for actually paying musicians, but amazing for discovering music I've never heard.

But when the subject is something closer to my heart---more sacred---I'm paralyzed with indecision and doubt. I spent over a year shopping for my last guitar. Same story for the laptop I'm using to write this. The more important it feels, the more easily I freeze. 

I see it as a trade-off. Leaning into apathy helps me make quick decisions and lowers my stress level. Favoring anxiety, or at least caution, is more productive for intensive research and long-term . I'm curious if this is the way most people operate and how aware they are of their tendencies. If anything, my description is likely an exaggerated version of the norm (which likely means I'm neurodivergent, overly self-critical, or a bit of both).

Writing is important to me, which is why I have so much difficulty publishing my work. Perfectionism takes over. Arranging words on the page has sparked my passion since I first learned how to do it. This blog is, in large part, an exercise in spontaneity. Even though I still analyze these posts too closely, I've made it a goal to publish regularly. I know it won't be perfect, but it will exist. 

In his book Uh Oh, Robert Fulgham, wrote (anecdotally) about the difference in attitude between Kindergarteners and college students with respect to creativity. When asked who could draw, every student in the younger cohort volunteered. What should I draw? A dog? With a fire hydrant? In the jungle? No problem. The undergrads hesitated, refused, or offered caveats: I can only draw trees. Faces are hard. My technique is sloppy. 

His point, I think, was that we learn to limit ourselves with social pressure, hypersensitivity, and pessimism as we age. This can trend the other way as well: overconfidence evolves into arrogance. Left unchecked, our self-judgment distorts to the extremes of grandeur or despair. At some point, the best option is to stop caring so much. Discard perfection for its much more valuable enemy: progress. 

I'd like to say I've perfected this technique. I've read over this post several times already, and I'm not truly satisfied. But I'm writing regularly, and habits matter most. Discovering the threshold for "good enough" is valuable in its own right. I'll figure out perfection later. In the meantime, publishing blog posts feels good.