New site update: I wrote last Thursday that I would only be posting once a week since I have a new site in the works. The main reason for that is, since my content has already been exported, I didn’t want to write a ton of posts that won’t be visible on the new site. Shaun then suggested I just post two copies: one on this site, one on my new one. Simple. All that to say, I’ll be posting as usual (2-3 times a week), starting with this one! #warningitslong.
As I’m sure many of you can relate to, sometimes, I can be a perfectionist. Clearly not all the time (this isn’t at all the case in my work life!) but when it comes to my home, I want everything just so. The way my place looks like in pictures? I strive to have it sparkling like that all the time.
Of course, I know it’s not possible because a) I have a huge dog. In a small CARPET FILLED apartment. (Why does a pet-friendly building insist on carpet? Do you know how many stains my puppy has caused in the last few months?) b) Cleaning standards are an issue my boyfriend and I differ immensely on. c) What’s more, sometimes I get too exhausted to clean, or too wrapped up in a project to bother.
This inherently irks me. It causes me daily frustration, and I don’t even have kids! It doesn’t stop there either. If I’m going to an event, I want my food to be perfect. My outfit to be perfect. My handmade card to be perfect. Why? Does anyone else really care if my brownies don’t turn out properly? (No. If anything, my friends of mine find my little homemaker ways amusing. :)
It struck me that this obsession with perfection butts in the way of enjoying the moment. If any of you have read the Happiness Project (love love love that book) you’ll understand what I mean that I want to cultivate happiness; make conscious choices to do things that make me happy.
I stumbled upon this quote recently. It sums it up perfectly. I knew I wanted to display it in my home.
“Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good”.
(Plus, it’s Voltaire. After years of studying French, I just had to.)
It popped up again for me this weekend. I had helped plan a surprise party for my dad’s 60th this Saturday. The day of, I made a cake, bought his present, made a card, baked cookies for school, went to yoga, and organized and picked up my younger brother who came in to town that day. So when my great aunt scoffed at me and said primly, “Lauren, store-bought icing? Really!”, I decided that it can’t be perfect, and nor does it need to be. I’ve done my best. Why should I let the extra stress of making icing get in the way of just enjoying the evening with my dad? Isn’t that what counts anyway?
So here it is.
Wonder how I did it? Here’s a quick overview.
I found this frame amongst the free stuff in our building foyer. Great shape, but I prefer black frames. I had all my spray painting gear out anyway (you may have seen a little snap shot on instagram yesterday…), so I gave it a quick coat of mat black.
While that dried, I worked on my quote. I could have made it on the computer using pretty fonts, but, I wanted the piece to reflect the its meaning, so I did it free hand. I tried out a few different fonts…
And landed on these.
On this page, I drew it to scale so I could use it as a guide for my final version. Since I was using cardstock paper, I couldn’t just trace it. Instead, pressed over the letters and lines with a pencil. From there, I followed the indent on the good copy using faint pencil to mark off where each letter would go, and finished it off in pen.
I used an opaque marker from Michael’s called Recollection’s Opaque Marker in Ebony, if you’re curious. Now it’s displayed it on the little wall of the closet in our bedroom.
I used my ever growing font collection on Pinterest for inspiration. There are things I want to correct (that line should be thinner, that letter should be thicker…) but again, I’m trying to let it go and just enjoy. It’s the whole point of having it displayed on my wall in the first place!
Any quotes you have read that struck a cord with you? Any times you have realized that striving for perfection is taking away from the experience itself?