I don’t know if this is about disillusion or just hitting a new point on the learning curve, but yesterday I realized that 99% of the people I admire, I don’t actually admire. That is, I admire the things they’ve accomplished, but I’m not necessarily into them as people. It is unfair to them and has always set me up for disappointment, so this realization that I ought to allow people more dimension than their resumes afford should vastly improve my life from this point forward.
There’s a book called Literary Lives, by Edward Sorel, that taps into this perfectly, as it’s basically a tell-all of famous revered figures (Jung, Rand, etc.). I saw it once in New York and reading it made me feel better about things. Now I’m buying it so that the next time I want to elevate someone to demi-god status for their accomplishments, I don’t.
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