Many years ago, when I was in high school, I made an odd goal for myself: that every moment of my life, when viewed in retrospect, would be an embarrassment to me. Hey, so far, so good! No, seriously. That’s what I told myself. The reason was because, in my view, if I was more or less on a general path of improvement through my life, I should be able to look in the rear-view mirror and shake my head at the Tim I saw behind me.

Although I hardly view the shortcomings of my past, which are legion, with any kind of delight or achievement, I was reminded of this peculiar adolescent pact because of something I realized about myself which I’ve had wrong my entire life.