You see the quizzes all the time on Facebook, like … “Why were you born?” and “What color is your soul?” or “What drunk author are you? “… And my new personal favorite, “How old are you inside?” (More on this one later.)
If you are like me, it’s easy to lose time answering one inane question after another, mesmerized by how the weirdest conclusions are drawn from data that make no sense whatsoever. You also find yourself stretching the truth a little to get a better result.
Yesterday, instead of ignoring these temptations, and getting back to something solid that pays money, I kept clicking to find new quizzes that would reveal ways for me to “discover” more about myself.
I had a bit of writer’s block, as it turned out, and thought it might help.
Yet I have always loved questions and quizzes, from the way back when of Cosmopolitan’s “How sexy are you?” (Very, I lied) to “Have you ever been pressured into a bad decision?” in my daughter’s American Girl.(Never, I lied vehemently.)
After 22 happy years as a journalist, I still felt drawn to “What career is right for you?” and got elementary school teacher, because, “You love to help others and help them understand things better, a problem solver and a real people person.”
So far, so good. And all the reasons why I went into newspapering.
Then, more: “You also seem to love little kids.” Well, I do. And that’s why I am a mother. “You want to see everyone you know reach their full potential.” Well, OK. But don’t we all feel that way?
When it came to “How old are you inside?” I answered questions like: “What is your favorite color?” (Purple) “Most wanted job?” (I picked musician over toilet paper factory worker.) “And favorite object?” (Blanket, when faced with options like airplane or flashlight.)
Result? I am 99 inside. And along with a horribly wizened old man’s face popping up on the screen to leer at me were these soothing words: “You are super old and have no talents because you can’t move. Die already!”
I got a good laugh out of it, even though a friend scored an internal age of 20. What’s with that, I asked. “Guess I’m young at heart,” she said. I think she’s just better at taking tests. Or lying.