Perfectionist is too mild a word to describe me. I know that’s the sort of thing every type A person says about themselves, but trust me, I’m being serious—I really, really hate leaving anything in a less than pristine state.
My ePortfolio is no exception. Overall, I like my finished project. But those damn red lines on the homepage and on the “More” section are pissing me off.
I just can’t seem to get those things to align cleanly with one another. I’m actually a bit concerned that my computer might be haunted by a poltergeist or something, because I swear that whenever I think I’ve got them in the perfect spot and I look away, the lines start floating all over the page and are a mess again.
As you can tell, it bothers me very much when even the tiniest things are off.
It’s because of this that I’m having a hard time disengaging from my ePortfolio. There are many things that I like about my page, but I tend to overlook the positive attributes of my piece the second I see even the smallest mistake. And what’s really problematic about this is that, in my mind, there still are many mistakes in my ePortfolio.
No, these mistakes are not significant. They’re mostly things like a text box being positioned slightly higher than it should be, or a color being half a shade off what I wanted. They’re things that nobody other than the creator of the page would even notice.
But being the creator of the page, I do notice them. I find myself again and again pressing the “Publish” button on Wix, feeling immensely satisfied, and then suddenly ruffled when I notice one of these insignificant mistakes. I go back and fix the problem, publish my page again, and then moments later find some new issue.
Sick of dealing with this, I’ve officially decided that I will not look at my ePortfolio again until the semester has ended. There’s no use in working myself up over tiny mistakes again and again, especially because I am pleased with the bulk of my project.
I feel that in my ePortfolio, I have arranged a cohesive narrative that guides readers through my work in a logical way. I hoped to give readers the opportunity to read as much or as little of my process and reflection notes as they want, which is why I included the brackets and buttons features on most pages. If someone wanted to travel through my thought process, learn about my prewriting and my ideas, then they could click the drafts and in-process notes; alternatively, if they were only interested in the finished projects, they could simply skip ahead to those.
I also think that my ePortfolio does a decent job of balancing a professional outlook with a personable tone. Ideally, employers will look at my ePortfolio and be blown away, call me, and offer me a job on the spot. But while I wanted to impress professionals seeing my page, I still wanted it to reflect who I am—a simultaneously weird and serious soul. I didn’t want to come across as a robot, someone who tailors what he says to the textbook definition of what employers look for in applicants. At first I was a bit concerned that being personable might not be appropriate, but I decided that my professional skills and my personality are a package deal—one isn’t going to come without the other, so I might as well let the world know who they’re getting in bed with.
I’m proud of my ePortfolio, along with all of the work that I’ve done in the gateway course, and I refuse to let my persnickety nature destroy what should be a happy moment for me. As readers venture through my ePortfolio, I hope they look not to the tiny details that bug me so, but rather pay attention to the overarching narrative and design of the project.
Sad as I am to leave the gateway course (I really am—this way far and away my favorite class this semester), I am glad to leave it with a piece evidencing the way I have grown as a writer in the past few months.