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My first blog post. Ever.

My first blog post. Ever.

So this is my first blog post. Ever.

If you’re reading this, it means you’ve paid my site a visit.

Thank you.

And by reading this now, I’m guessing there is some interest in knowing the meaning behind the name.

It’s nothing too fancy, or sophisticated.

It’s more of a personal thing.

Everyone has an opinion about what perfection really entails, and many have questioned the benefits of aspiring to that.

Psychologist have studied the implications of focusing too much on the notion of ‘perfect’ and how it could deteriorate a person’s self esteem.  

Beyond just people, we also tend to assess the aesthetics of things through the lens of ‘perfect’ as well. 

Are these frames aligned? 

Is there symmetry in this design?

Do the colors match?

The list is endless…

I recall taking my friend to a tattoo parlor when I was 17.

We rocked up, excited, anxious, and my friend brought along with her an outline of a triangle overplayed by a circle that she wanted to get inked on her forearm.

And right before the needle was about to make its first line, she made sure to remind the artist that the tattoo should look exactly like the photo she showed him.

He instantly stopped, 

looked at us, and said no.

He reminded us that it can’t be perfect.

Because he’s not a printing machine.

He’s a human artist.

And he’ll be using his hand to draw this (obviously).

So in no way can he guarantee that the outcome will look precisely the same as the photo she had gotten him.

He explained to us that we shouldn’t even want tattoos to be perfect.

It makes them less unique, less real, and less hand made.

By being imperfect, you secure a sense of individuality.

And even if someone requests a similar tattoo, it will never truly be identical. 

Because none will ever be perfectly drawn.

That’s a good thing.


Enough of my random thoughts.

(sorry, I’m just excited to be writing again)

Here’s what imperfection means to me and why I’ve called my site that.

(with the clear elimination of a ’t’)

Growing up, my home always had the ugliest Christmas Tree. 

While most families saw the decoration of a tree as a means to demonstrate how gracious their house was, my family kept it ugly. 

But when I look back, it wasn’t really ugly, per se. 

It was just incomplete, and definitely far from perfect. 

You see my parents wanted my sister and I to feel ownership over it. 

And so the result was a half-decorated, half-lit tree; 

solely dependent on how high my sister and I could reach (what about the star?). 

I like that idea.

How the reason behind something is so much more important than what the outcome really is. 

The sentiment of purity at all costs.

So in my eyes, that’s the alluring side of imperfection – to many, our tree might have looked uncommon, a bit odd, and yet interesting. 

But to me, it represented everything that made me more me.


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