I've been putting a weird amount of thought into this question. This is probably depressing, but my perfect moments are always so fleeting. Usually, there isn't even something that amazing about the moment, but there will be a rush of pure happiness that will last for a minute or two, and then it will pass. The biggest common factor about the moments that came to mind was laughing with my friends, but I'm not really sure what constitutes a perfect for me. My immediate reaction was thinking about lying in the hammock at my dad's house upstate in the peak of summer and reading. But it could be something as simple as Sunday, when I was just walking around Union Square and Flatiron (which are probably my most travesered neighborhoods of Manhattan) doing little errands like picking up a painting that I won (which I guess is pretty exciting), buying the new issue of my favorite magazine, and getting ingredients for hot apple cider. All of a sudden I was just so happy and excited about my life, and I have no idea why. A scene of a lot of little perfect moments, though, was my little shitty balcony in my first apartment back in Boston. I lived with my best friend, who's really more like a sister. There were a lot of times when I was sitting out there, looking out on my neighborhood and thinking, or being really drunk and silly with my friends, and I was just happy, plain and simple. But the best moment was when there was supposed to be a meteor shower, and my best friend and I sat out there prepared to watch it with two mugs of tea. We didn't see a single one, but we were out there for a few hours just talking, and it was the best. I miss that. Waah.
I'll second this. I have a small balcony and one of the finest things in the universe is to sit out there with my barbecue. Even if I'm not cooking anything, just putting some woodchips over the burner and smelling smoke while sitting out and drinking is pretty damned aweome.
It's disturbing how similar this is for me. Unfortunately, there are few times in the past 10 years or so when I've achieved this level of relaxation. I can approximate this by engaging in an activity like white water rafting, or (believe it or not) golfing. On the rare occasions I can actually pursue these activities, I'm later amazed at how focused I was, and how I spent a whole several hours without thinking about work or other responsibilities. On the other hand, its incredibly depressing to realize I spend most of my time bored, stressed, or aggravated, for a couple of minutes of relaxation. Forcing the issue with alcohol doesn't really help. I'm doing it wrong.
Perfection for me is 7:30 A.M. on a Saturday morning in the summer on a nice golf course. The Sun is shining, the grass is still dewy and the only sounds of golf carts, the PING of golf-balls and a pro-shop attendant announcing, "Now on the First tee, the _________ Group." To me there's nothing better than taking a thick swig of coffee, slowly walking to the tee-box, teeing up, and looking down a wide fairway with fresh-cut grass and taking that big deep breath before you tee off. That unknown feeling of what 'might' happen on the course. Could today be the day when you hit your first ace? What about a new high-score? Golf tends to be a very stressful game, and I've been known to throw a golf club in disgust on a few occasions. But those handful of seconds before tee-off always leave me relaxed. The phone is turned off, and all other worries and stresses in life seem to fade away, if only for a few moments.
Skiing off-piste is my "perfect moment". Being on the back side of a mountain after a fresh snowfall provides the most quiet setting in the world. It's kind of like being on the moon. Just me, the trees, and the snow. Even better is that my cell phone doesn't have service so I couldn't take a call even if I wanted to.
All-Time Perfection is coming home after a really great performance on closing night. Go out with your friends, eat and drink things that you've been denying yourselves for the last 2-3 months, go home for a really long, hot shower, wash your face that's been caked with stage make-up for so many nights you're starting to break out, ice your joints and go to bed. All the bouquets from the last few shows all over your apartment, your place is a mess because you've hardly been there in weeks, and you're physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. You always have the next day or three off, so you look forward to sleeping in and maybe getting a massage. It is the best feeling ever. It feels like hitting "restart" on your soul. Second to that is being at a concert with my best friends. Favorite band, a little buzz, and great people. That's pretty awesome. Those moments always go by too quickly.
The solitude of my bathroom, the NY Times crossword puzzle, and my pen in the magazine rack. Someone forgetting to replenish the toilet paper.
Sitting on my back deck on a warm evening, watching my dogs run around like idiots playing stick, drinking a screwdriver, music streaming from inside the house (SRV and it's ultimate perfection), and smelling the smoke from the grill. One of the dogs making a break for the back part of the property, causing me to yell, have to set down my drink and run after him/her. I love them but God damn they have just about an entire acre that is "theirs". That's not enough? Little shits.
An alternative to my earlier post: A clear day, a good bottle of gin or vodka with plenty of ice, a blonde, and a boat. It's my signature for a reason.
A few: 1. The moment you find out you landed a job you want, there's nothing like it. 2. Sitting on a beach on the Outer Banks on a beautful day with a cold beer in hand, staring off into the ocean thinking about absolutely nothing.
Sitting behind my drumset, hearing the hum of the guitar amps and getting the signal to start the opening song. The electricity that i can feel throughout my whole body whilst i count in is unreal. Knowing that my friends are standing by, having a drink and supporting me or that complete strangers have turned up to hear what we have created or just the absolute connection i have with the other 3 guys i play with; it all rushes through my mind before i throw my body into that first snare shot.
Just to preface I run in college: I was walking home from class the other night at about 9: 15 so it was dark and there were very few people outside. I was listening to music loud enough that I couldn't hear any outside noise and was just in my own daydream thinking about what it would be like to enter the Olympic Track Stadium for a race. I wasn't listening to the words of the music so much as they were simulating the noise of what the stadium would be like as I walked out. For about three minutes I was walking home with not a care in the world and that image in my head. Anti-focus: Coming back to reality and knowing that's the closest I'll ever get to being there.
Focus: I think I've only had one perfect moment. Nothing I've ever felt before it or since then has come close. It was in boot camp, on the Crucible. The last three months had been shitty; we were the booger platoon, and even though I was relatively squared away (I was average) we still all got fucked up every single day. On the Crucible, the heavy hat, who hated me with a burning passion, changed the roster around so he could fuck me up the whole time. For those three days, I learned what misery was like. They say that Parris Island weather echoes your mood. I was miserable, and it rained the whole damn time. God was probably laughing as he turned up the Shitty Weather knob on his Boot Camp console. "Yep, another soaked Crucible. I LOVE rainy weekends!" Thanks, big guy. On the march back, I was missing an insole on one of my boots, my pack didn't fit, and I hadn't slept or eaten anything (Thanks SSgt - hope you enjoyed those MREs) in a couple days. My Kevlar didn't fit, and a couple miles into the hike my neck was already killing me. It was a fast hike back. It was also silent; the usual screaming of "AT&T" from the drill instructors and the response from the recruits, "Reach out and touch someone" as they grabbed the pack in front of them, was absent. The only sound was the shuffle of boots and the occasional whimper of someone who had twisted an ankle. About halfway, I took off my boots on a break and stared at a couple enormous blisters on the soles of my feet. The feeling you get of "Shit, this is painful as fuck, but I have to walk another five miles" isn't a good one. But with about a mile left, we started doing the obligatory mournful singing that every company does at the end. And as we sang, the sun came out. The pain in my neck and feet vanished, and my pack felt light on my shoulders. It was like something out of a movie; it didn't even feel real. It was like watching some retarded chick flick on Lifetime. When we walked onto that parade deck, singing about barber's chairs and having no hair, I got that feeling. All this bullshit that we had endured and lived through was finally over. It was fucking over. It was perfect. Antifocus: Walking off that parade deck back to the squad bay. It wasn't even a walk; it was more of a lame penguin-shuffle. I had blisters on both my feet, ball and heel. For those who have ever wondered what it was like to have a limp on both feet, it sucked ass. If my DIs had let me, I probably would have walked everywhere on my hands just to avoid those damn blisters.
It is very hard for me to have momentary perfection. I have only recently graduated from my selected field in school and I hold myself to a very high standard. Often in the past I have been given compliments on my work and still critiqued myself on the quality of my work. I can very rarely stop thinking about my job because I am dissapointed in the quality of the work I do. I am still not sure if this is justified or if I am too hard on myself. I fucking hate myself. Not really but I know I should chill the fuck out and party more. I guess that's why I'm drinking myself to sleep tonight.
Many moments of my life since I graduated have not been perfect. That tends to follow when you are not employed in your chosen field and live with your parents. However. my friend's 26th birthdat was a night of perfection. Basically it entailled about 10 of our friends getting alert-status-red drunk at our favourite dive bar (Phil's for anyone on the board that is in the Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario, Canada area) Amazing. Not many of us hooked up, but it was nevertheless amazing
Here are a couple that I've run into. One, when me and my wife snuggle up in bed. Sometimes it's a little awkward with shuffling about and trying to get comfortable. But sometimes we just lie in each other's arms just right and it's bliss. Not too hot or cold, no limbs losing circulation, breathing comfortably, and just being. Two, the drive home after taking a second bar exam in three days. I double-barred in NY and MA, so I took NY in state on a Tuesday, then the multi-state, then drove to Western MA to do the MA instate exam. I wrote my ten essays with a stupid pencil, texted my girlfriend (now wife) that I was coming home, and drove the Mass Pike east. I was so drained but felt so good to be done with it.