The Spontaneous Idealist

   I've been approached in the middle of the Vegas strip for a psychic reading, I sought it out once in New Orleans at the Bottom of the Cup Tea Room, and I've been entranced by a rowdy Irish woman reading my palm in an Americanized, strip-mall version of an Irish pub.  I'm a seeker.  I'm continuously searching for more.  I always ask why.  I always want to talk about it.  I'm pretty irritating.

   During one of those afternoon lulls I usually rush through, I saw a personality test being shared on facebook.  I immediately took it, read the results, and laughed.  Squirmed.  Then laughed.  I was labeled "The Spontaneous Idealist":

Spontaneous Idealists are masters of communication and very amusing and gifted entertainers. Fun and variety are guaranteed when they are around. However, they are sometimes somewhat too impulsive in dealing with others and can hurt people without really meaning to do so, due to their direct and sometimes critical nature.

This personality type is a keen and alert observer; they miss nothing which is going on around them. In extreme cases, they tend to be oversensitive and exaggeratedly alert and are inwardly always ready to jump. Life for them is an exciting drama full of emotionality. However, they quickly become bored when things repeat themselves and too much detailed work and care is required. Their creativity, their imaginativeness and their originality become most noticeable when developing new projects and ideas - they then leave the meticulous implementation of the whole to others. On the whole, Spontaneous Idealists attach great value to their inner and outward independence and do not like accepting a subordinate role. They therefore have problems with hierarchies and authorities.

   Bull's eye.  That's me.  I'm hard to take.  But I will not accept it.  With the start of a new year, we all find ourselves folding inward and making decisions that challenge us.  It's time for me to face another facet of one of my major character flaws.

   Two years ago I started this blog as an outlet.  I felt free to share things I wouldn't normally. I was exposed.  But I had just moved to a new town and I wasn't prepared for the shift.  Life had been moving too quickly and I didn't know who I was anymore.  I didn't know I was a writer.  I didn't know that writing would suddenly become what haunted me, fed me, drained me, and resuscitated me.  I didn't know my writing would drive everyone crazy.  Now I know.  And none of it will stop me. 

   What has stopped me before was my perfectionistic nature.  When I wrote, I wanted it to be perfect.  I chose to write about children's books because it was my passion.  And it still is.  But I can't spend my time researching authors, finding the perfect pictures and links, and poring over others' work if I ever expect to find time for my own.  My time is too precious to dissect other books that are already successful.  Your time is too precious to read superfluous details about a book you'd probably like to find on your own.  So stick around for more compressed and frequent posts this year, or for the next few weeks until I predictably "become bored when things repeat themselves and too much detailed work and care is required."  Ha.  Happy New Year!

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