Wicked Flaws

Wicked.  Mr. Webster would tell you it means many things.  One might think of black cats and broomsticks.  A theatre buff would tell you it’s some of Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel’s best work.  Just using the word would have many asking if you hail from the East Coast.  But look a little deeper between the dictionary pages.  Wicked has done something incredible.  Wicked has actually come to represent complete juxtaposition.  How can that be, that within the definition lies both “Bad, wrong, intended to harm” and “Wonderful, excellent?”  How can it be that something inherently wrong, can be wonderful?   How can something intended to harm, be turned into something excellent?   Can we do the same? Could our flaws, in fact, be wicked?

Flaws are not so versatile. Their definition is clear.  They are meant to mar, defect, invalidate.  I grew up knowing that I was flawed.  I spent time thinking about how I could keep people from knowing that I was hiding a secret, the secret of being defective.  The pressures on women weren’t lost on me at 8, or 18.  Yes, we like to think women have it the hardest because we are supposed to be skinny, pretty, funny, with perfect hair, a voluminous derriere, and a waist you could wrap a slap bracelet around.  But it’s hard for guys, too. It’s hard for people without money. It’s hard for people with money. It’s hard for old people and young people and everyone in between. Because life is hard for HUMANS.  I think that might be one of the biggest things you learn in your 20’s. Or it should be, because it would be pretty awful to think you’re going through this big, hard world alone. You aren’t.

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I live in Los Angeles, the mecca for all the beautiful people from around the world.  Every street corner yields gorgeous women, ripped guys, and perfect gay couples that make me want to trade lives with their Yorkie.  It’s so easy to think everyone here has everything they want, and even more, that their lives are perfect. But they aren’t.  These people all have flaws and imperfections.  We see into a perfect, square, millisecond of their life, not their reality.  They all fight battles each day that none of us will see.  But I think we should see them. I think we should share them. I think we should let each other know that we are not in this life alone. The Earth has been spinning for billions of years.  From a relative point of view, humanity will have existed in just the blink of an eye, and each individual lifetime, almost immeasurable.  How can we spend that precious time telling ourselves we are not enough?  It’s time we look in the mirror, and at each other, and see how that which aims to make us imperfect is what  makes us truly excellent.

So this is where I will share my flaws and the ones I see around me.  I’ll say what I really feel, and if people think I have worded something incorrectly, or offended anyone, forgive me. I, like you, have flaws.  I want to share with you all the glorious imperfections I come across in this beautiful world: people, art, places, that piece of pizza cut smaller than the rest with less pepperoni and sausage on it.  Lets share any and all that is wicked.

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