Perfectionism

Between the line of work that I am in and the atmosphere of the towns that the work is located in, I think that I can make a few classifications of perfectionism. I thought that this was rather interesting, myself.

Perfectionism in people can be classified in three groups:

Perfectionist #1: The true perfectionist.
The type who labors for endless hours upon end to achieve the exactness of his desires. The one who will be driven insane until he reaches the utmost in absoluteness. This is what I refer to as the "Ship in a Bottle" people. Perfectionist #1 is the only type of personality that would every spend the immense amount of time trying to put a ship in a bottle. Once in there, you can be assured that it is going to be exactly as he likes.

Perfectionist #2: The rich perfectionist.
The type who, either through years of working from the ground up, inheriting an immense sum of money, or growing up in the wealthy environment, achieve the perfection of their dreams through the throwing around of money. In actual fact, these people are often lazy and, left to fend for themselves, would never be able to live the life that they do by means of their will to work for it. Thus, they end up going to the lake in their boat so that the landscapers can fix up their lawn and garden. The objects of their affection are usually their lawn, their car(s), their "artwork" in the house, and their pets. These people are whom I refer to as the "Chives, re-arrange that planter. The coloring is slightly asymmetric in this light" people.

Perfectionist #3: The Engineer.
The type who spend hours mathematically defining their situation, then build 5 different scale models to show their correctness. These are the people whom I refer to as the "This is absolutely 100% perfect within + or - .001 inches. How can I make it better?" perfectionists.

Of music and movies.

Lately I've been thinking of some great music moments in movie history, and how it has influenced us.

One of the greatest is 2001: A space Odyssey. Most memorably because of it's use of Strauss and the apes in front of the monolith, but also because it makes use of music in an incredible way throughout the entire movie.

Star-Wars is one of the most wide spread, I would say. Absolutely anyone can look up, imagine the giant golden letters, "Star-Wars", and sing the theme music in all its glory. That is aside from its many distinct themes and moods that are strewn masterfully throughout the movie.

The scene in Apocalypse Now where the air-cav flys into a hot landing zone blaring Ride of the Valkyries. No, the soundtrack wasn't blaring the music, the helicopters were. That's the best part.

More recently, V for Vendetta for its use of the 1812 Overture. Yes, it was so very typical and predictable, but it was so brilliantly executed and I couldn't imagine a better use for it.

I hesitate to call it music and part of the soundtrack, but Psycho introduced an incredable incidental sound for moments of suprise and terror.

I think Jaws also falls in this boat, although it qualifies as an actual soundtrack. People seem to remember it as a sound effect, though.

Mission Impossible and James Bond ought to be lumped together for the greatest mood music of its genre. Anytime anyone thinks of espionage or sneaking around with a gun, they automatically begins singing this soundtrack, if only in their head.


These are what I could think of off the top of my head. I'm curious to know what I might be missing.

Effects of Stress (and lack of sleep)

This morning at class the professor had playing on the projecter a series of cartoons of a rabbit with various reactions to stress. Anger, cold sweat, dialated pupels, weird dreams, all were represented. When the picture of the rabbit having a wacked out dream popped up, it made me remember the dream that I had last night that I would have forgotten otherwise.

Amongst many other highlights of the dream, the presiding theme was that, after being on the road with a number of people on a beautiful sunny spring day, we pulled the car over to what appeard to be a house. Rather, it was one of those house-type buildings that were made into a business. Somehow I knew that it was a barber shop, and I went inside with the intention of getting my hair cut. I sat down in the chair with the sheet around my neck and they began cutting. I say they, because there were three barbers present. They were each working on my head. They worked in harmony and did an expediant and an excellant job. Halfway through the job, I realized that my three barbers were gay. I was getting my hair cut by three gay barbers. I don't know how I knew. Maybe it was their pink aprons. It didn't make much difference to me. I was so preoccupied with this thought that I failed to tell the three not to cut the hair on the back of my head, as I was growing it out for a mullet. When they finished I looked into the mirror and, to my suprise, I learned that not only did my hair look incredible, but they didn't even touch the hair on the back of my head. They were perfect! My hair was perfect! I was so eccstatic that I vowed that if I was ever to get my hair done, it would always be with the three gay barbers.

If this is stress, I think I like it.