When I was younger I read a lot of self-help books and did not accomplish much. I attribute this to the following:
It’s easier to get the feeling of having learned something useful than it is to get the feeling of having accomplished something. So there is a tendency to read through the book but not actually accomplish anything.
The above is exacerbated by the fact that self-help authors are aware of it. So self-help books tend to be like potato chips—stimulating but not very nutritious.
My brain seems to have an inner fuck-up who ends up making a lot of the day to day decisions in life. My inner fuck-up is too much of a fuck-up to benefit from self-help books. So what would end up happening is that I would read the self-help book, learn something which seemed to make sense, think to myself “yes, now I’ve got it,” and feel really motivated and confident. Until my inner fuck-up takes over and whatever I’ve learned fades away, kinda like things faded for the main character in [i]Memento[/i].
When I was younger I read a lot of self-help books and did not accomplish much. I attribute this to the following:
It’s easier to get the feeling of having learned something useful than it is to get the feeling of having accomplished something. So there is a tendency to read through the book but not actually accomplish anything.
The above is exacerbated by the fact that self-help authors are aware of it. So self-help books tend to be like potato chips—stimulating but not very nutritious.
My brain seems to have an inner fuck-up who ends up making a lot of the day to day decisions in life. My inner fuck-up is too much of a fuck-up to benefit from self-help books. So what would end up happening is that I would read the self-help book, learn something which seemed to make sense, think to myself “yes, now I’ve got it,” and feel really motivated and confident. Until my inner fuck-up takes over and whatever I’ve learned fades away, kinda like things faded for the main character in [i]Memento[/i].