I Can't Tell What Kind Of Life I've Led Today

For some reason, we as a species feel the need to simultaneously worship and destroy our heroes. It makes sense, perhaps, from a narcissistic perspective, to build up the idea that humans can achieve greatness while at the same time denigrating the greatness of those who happen to not be us. A more important lesson, I feel, is that while none of us is perfect, it is possible to be fundamentally flawed and still do great things. That's heroism, to me. So, feel free to run your mouth about how Dr. King was a womanizer or whatever. I'm not saying it's true, but if it is, who gives a damn? Ad hominem attacks are never going to take away from the importance and greatness of what Dr. King accomplished in his life and through the works his memory inspired in those who came after. So, take that, haters.

The recent film adaptation of "Beowulf" turned out to be a pretty amazing meditation on heroism, and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get around to this film. It was at times absurd in an almost Shrek or Austin Powers sense, but the overall theme of the film was that, basically, our heroes are jerks. They make terrible decisions sometimes, sometimes when it really matters, and are just as ruled by fears and desires as the rest of us. But, in true heroic fashion, we can overcome our baser selves and even undo the sins of our past if we're willing to make the choices and the sacrifices necessary to do so. Plus, it turns out that 3D is actually pretty damn cool.

So, that's what makes heroes so special, I guess. It's not the ways in which they are better or stronger than us, but rather the ways in which they are just as weak and fearful. Their successes remind us that we can do it, too. And maybe that demystification is the greatest gift a hero can give.

And for some reason, there's this.