The Pragmatic and the Romantic
INTRODUCTION
Several years ago, I was listening to an episode of How I Built This with Guy Raz. Sal Khan, the founder of Khan Academy, said something about tutoring that stuck with me:
“My little cousin was struggling with school, so what did her parents do? Like any good parents, they threw money at the problem.”
On the surface, he was right. Tutoring is, in fact, spending money to solve a problem. But the phrasing felt oddly cynical coming from someone who dedicated his life to helping students learn. That jarring moment eventually led to the following insight: for any given event, we can choose to see it pragmatically - at face value, facts and nothing more. Or we can see it romantically - as part of a bigger story, rich with meaning and possibility.
It’s tempting to conflate this with optimism vs. pessimism, but I think it’s different. Optimism is about positive vs. negative outlooks. Pragmatism vs. romanticism is about depth: accepting the shallow, surface-level view versus acknowledging deeper levels of meaning or value.
Realistically, though, this isn’t a binary choice. It’s a spectrum: how romantic we are about certain things compared to how pragmatic we are about others. And importantly, we can’t - and shouldn’t - always be romantic about everything. That would be exhausting and unsustainable. The power lies in sliding along the spectrum, choosing when to lean into romance and when to accept pragmatism.
Typically, this relationship works in one direction: we’re drawn to, and usually become better at, the things we’re already romantic about, while we avoid or feel dragged toward the things we view pragmatically. My core thesis is that by testing this relationship in the opposite direction - choosing romance where we’d normally default to pragmatism - we can enrich our quality of life. In other words: by being romantic about things we normally wouldn’t think twice about, we can find more beauty and enjoyment in what can often be a mundane life.
Example: A Case Study in Seeing Differently
Many of our favorite writers and shows are doing exactly this: finding beauty and meaning in the otherwise mundane, and making it compelling enough to hold our attention. One show that brought this idea home for me was True South*. In Season 7, Episode 4, the crew visits Little Rock, Arkansas.
In the SEC Network’s own words, the show “revolves around two food stories told from one place, which True South sets in conversation to make larger points about Southern beliefs and identities.” In other words, True South takes food - something easy to see pragmatically as sustenance - and reframes it romantically, as a medium for heritage, memory, and community.
The Little Rock episode is a perfect case study. The city itself is often overlooked, its state is often dismissed, and this particular story unfolds on Baseline Road - a part of town often avoided altogether. Through a romantic lens, however, the episode reveals layers of beauty in what most people would write off as “the bad part of town.” We see cultural tradition, celebration, and resilience.
I won’t rehash the whole episode for you, but at the center we have Jordan Narvaez, a thirty-something running multiple small businesses in southwest Little Rock: El Súper Pollo (a chicken al carbón tent), two grocery stores, and a Western apparel shop. We follow him through the day in his F-150 (that we learn he inherited from his father), watching him keep these enterprises alive as we learn more about his background and why he continues to run these businesses.
The reason this episode struck me so deeply is because it forced me to confront my own blind spot. I’ve been to Little Rock before, and in my pragmatic state of mind, I’ve never thought twice about Baseline Road. Candidly, the only real weight it’s held for me is as the “bad part of town.” But viewed through a romantic lens, the familiar became something else entirely - proof that in almost any situation, more beauty exists than initially meets the eye.**
At the end of the episode, Jordan’s businesses aren’t just businesses - they’re gathering places for his community. Jordan’s truck isn’t just another F-150 driving around Little Rock. It’s a way for him to stay connected to and honor his father.
It may not be a Southern food documentary for you, or a specific part of town, but odds are there’s some overlooked corner of your own life. What might you be writing off too quickly - and what might change if you looked again, romantically instead of pragmatically?
Application: How does this apply to our own lives?
So maybe you’re wondering why any of this matters beyond one episode of a niche food show. The point is that the same principle applies just about anywhere: we can make life feel richer by choosing to view the mundane through a romantic lens.
Two examples make this clear: careers and sports.
Example 1: Careers
Our jobs give us endless chances to test each end of the pragmatic - romantic spectrum. Take the example of a local businessperson who has opened 10 Courtyard Inn hotels. The pragmatic take is: “I’ve built a handful of hotels along the interstate.” Owning 10 hotels is pretty impressive, but in the grand scheme of things, Courtyard Inns are generally forgettable and unremarkable.
But the romantic version? “I’ve opened 10 places where families on road trips, workers away from home, and weary travelers could sleep and get a warm meal. Since opening, we’ve hosted more than 10,000 people.”
The facts don’t change, but the meaning does. Even in a job that feels ordinary or inconsequential, a romantic lens can highlight the value you bring to others.
Example 2: Sports
Sports might be the clearest split between pragmatists and romantics. On one side: skeptics who see them as nothing more than grown adults running around in uniforms, a modern “bread and circus.” On the other side: fans who see sports as culture-shaping forces that unite cities, create civic pride, and even spur broader change and community investment.
Both of these examples are a little trite and on the nose, but that’s kind of the point. The reality of each is somewhere in the middle: operating hotels isn’t necessarily life-changing work, but it does bring value. Sports teams do unite communities, but they’re not an essential service. That middle ground is where the pragmatic-romantic spectrum comes in. It gives us the flexibility to stay grounded in reality without losing the sense of romance that makes things exciting and meaningful.
Conclusion
We don’t get to choose all the circumstances of our lives, but we do get to choose the lens we bring to them. Pragmatism keeps us grounded in reality. Romanticism derives meaning, emotion, and impact from that reality. And somewhere between the two - sliding along the spectrum with intention - is where an ordinary life can begin to feel extraordinary.
Even Sal Khan’s story about “throwing money at the problem” can be read in two ways. Pragmatically, it’s a transaction - parents paying a tutor. Romantically, it’s parents doing whatever they can to support their child. The facts don’t change, but the meaning does.
And in the end, it’s that meaning - the romance we choose to layer onto the mundane - that makes a life feel worth living.
* Honorable mention here for F**k, That’s Delicious - another food-centric show that does an incredible job of highlighting the beauty found in food, often at hole-in-the-wall restaurants.
** There are objective issues with the Baseline Road area as shown in crime statistics, educational outcomes, etc. I’m not trying to minimize this at all. If anything, I hope this example underscores the notion that by taking the romantic perspective, we can find beauty and meaning even in tough situations.