VisualDNA Who Am I? Quiz Results

Guess who’s a Navigator? Yet, again, here is more proof on how anal I am when it comes to life. I’m a conscientious neurotic introvert. Spontaneity is not my preferred method. The fact that I am only 18% agreeable certainly says a lot. You know that one individual who tends to keep to himself, is awkward in conversation with strangers and acquaintances, and has no problem being rude with everyone (quietly, of course)? Aye! I can’t deny that the 99% neuroticism is embarrassing–far more than the 2% extraversion. I wonder if anyone else has ever had highly similar results. Well, I hope I am not the only one like this.


More than a realist, I believe I am just a pessimist. Both don’t necessarily have to go hand-in-hand. For me, it depends. I am so emotional on the inside (you won’t receive a hug from me or “I’m so, so sorry for…” comments). Don’t emotions have a tendency to hinder the facts? I can be disturbingly driven or a perfectionist of the worst kind. It may not seem so–given my history with jobs (or lack-thereof)– but when I find anything important or interesting, then I become obsessed. I just have to work around my severe introversion.

Yes, I hate not being in control. Obviously, I run into situations where I have little to no control, and that is where my anger bursts forward. I can be considered moody because of it. So, of course, I am a perfectionist. Returning to the fact that I am a severe introvert, it does make sense that I am a homebody. Don’t worry, I do leave my cave. I just prefer to be surrounded by no more than a handful of people that I know well. I enjoy outdoor activities on my own, from time to time.


Considering the first few traits, it is understandable that the following ones seem repetitive. I am aware that I seem distant in social situations, and that has saved me from most gossip, but it has also cost me opportunity. I am critically methodical and disciplined with specific chores, hobbies, and other actions. Anything else can crumble. Once I make a decision about life, then it does result in “strong and firm beliefs about things like society and morality.” I am vocal on those types of subjects.

I am an organizer, but I am capable of being creative. So, I disagree with part of this statement: “They like to stick to the rules of the game, but this can mean that they lack imagination and creative flair at times. You may prefer structured learning to free thinking and like to have a clear sense of the start, middle and – crucially – end of a project.” To be honest, the only way for a project to be completed, perfectly, is to be organized. Let’s not mention the countless types of artists who inhabit this planet and are incapable of showing results because there is no organization or discipline. A balance has to be found.

I am stubborn because I obviously feel I know what’s best and worst for me (and other people). It’s also true that being headstrong involves worries and fears. “If I do that, will it work?” Risk is something I avoid. That, coupled with introversion, has been my stumbling block–all of my life. I am aware that I haven’t shown any positive results in the ways that I want because of these traits. It’s humiliating and my own Godforsaken fault.


Avoidance of people, decisions, and actions have led to a stalemate. I can’t screw up, but I can’t succeed. I’ve been thinking lately that I have most of the traits necessary to prosper among other human beings, but I am figuratively watching the toilet water swirl around in circles. This year has been one of plenty of thinking, regret, planning, and actual doing. Still, there is more to be accomplished. I need to change more, but I know that the fears and the overthinking are standing right there, behind me.

Who Am I? Quiz

I Hate Driving

The title does not lie. There is this build-up of stress inside of me right before I get in any vehicle. To be honest, I have hardly driven compared to other Americans who live in rural areas. I have heard of individuals who don’t own a vehicle, but should. They don’t seem to have the same problems whenever they have the chance to drive though.

I didn’t receive a permit until I was 17 years of age. The truth is that I failed the test twice before I finally passed. This was all within the span of about a week. My father didn’t really push me to drive. He was happy to do it for me. Yes, he drove me to school in the morning and back home. In fact, he drove me home for lunch and back. Why would I feel motivated to drive a vehicle when I had a chauffeur (more like a body guard).

Now I know why he did what he did. He was trying to keep me inexperienced and hoped I wouldn’t get into any kind of trouble. I still did, a little, but I have always been an introvert. When I did venture out, I preferred to be outside and nearby–alone. It was easy to just walk somewhere or ask my father for a ride. Of course, I was a homebody more than anything.

Most people that I know had one permit and then a license–not me. I had 3 driving permits for the span of 5 years. The only awful picture I’ve ever taken was during my second permit. That was a bad year for me, anyway.

There were a few reason why I finally had to get a driver’s license. The major one being the death of my dad in 2014. That would, of course, be the end of my free rides. Also, I had my first boyfriend who quickly became my husband. It was just time to take that step in life. I needed to replace my dad when it came to taking my mother to appointments and grocery shopping. Additionally, my husband thought I would find a job 8-25 miles away like a normal person. That didn’t actually pan out, as usual.

How was the test for the driving license? Well, I was nervous as ever. I drove around a small town, but the town (village) I’m from is smaller still. I was sweating the whole time. Obviously, I passed. I was told to be careful because I drove too close to a man walking his dog. Also, that town has mostly yield crossings, but very few of them have an actual yield sign… The lack of visible white paint at a red light caused me a slight issue. Apparently, crossing in to the opposite lane and surpassing one vehicle, while using the proper mirrors, was one of the most important aspect of passing the test. I believe I would have failed even in a large town. Forget the City.

As you can see, I am a late bloomer. Additionally, I am immature and inexperienced in so many matters. There is a pattern. Of course, after I was married I needed to get a new license. To be honest, I got lazy. I avoided doing it for several months even though it was only a matter of taking a new picture. The office just brings back the unnecessary anxiety. Also, I hate the weight section of the card. You can see my erratic weight losses and gains. I am currently 100 lbs if you are curious.

So how is my driving? I’m okay. I haven’t really been tested. The last time I drove around a large town I put a hole in the oil pan. I don’t usually talk about it. The worst was in trying to pass a semi, but getting too close. Basically, had the driver not been totally focused then we would have gone under and died. He pushed the brakes, honked, passed us, and drove on about 10 mi/hr faster than necessary. I would cause that. I can be oblivious one minute and then anal grandma the next. Regardless, I am always stressed. The fear of driving is a crutch.

Dreaming The Future?

I am one of those individual’s who’s dreams do become reality. No, I am not speaking about fantasies or goals but about random, nonsensical dreams.

Yesterday, I was painting a house with my husband. We were almost finished with the job when his brother-in-law came to check on us. There was a bit of serious conversation but mostly the usual hilarious shit-talk. Anyway, my husband mentions how dirty and disorganized the house is on the inside, and that painting it only helps the outer image. So his brother-in-law refers to the act of polishing a turd. I, in turn, add that it is similar to when a woman with an unattractive face uses a ton of makeup. They are still laughing, but at this point I have déjà vu.

I remember having this dream before. I would say that it happened twice before I was even married, and twice afterwards. The conversation was exact–word for word. The setting of a small bluish house, cropped weeds, shade, and a setting sun were all the same. All I had pictured was a tall white man and a tall Hispanic man standing nearby. Their faces were always blurred. I have truly never painted anyone’s house other than my own, and the color was brown. I really don’t have an explanation for the precision of it all.

This is not the first time this has occurred in my life either, and I imagine it will not be the last. It shocks me every time. To be honest, I never find it helpful. This happens for the most mundane experiences in life. It doesn’t seem to make a difference for me.

The Regrettable: Part 2




I honestly believe that half of millennials went through a scene phase or at least wanted to. This is mine. I don’t deny that I was trying too hard or that I looked like a fool–I know. Of course, try telling that to my 17 year old self. What was going through my mind? A mess containing randomness. Currently, I find myself just staring at these photographs with confusion and a mild amount of fright. I just can’t grasp how I was capable of doing this, but it is what it is. I remember having loads of fun especially on Myspace. Oh, and the hair? I didn’t really like dying it. Does anyone understand how difficult it is to go from almost black hair to any shade of blond and then maintenance? Bright hair extensions from Hot Topic were fair enough for me. I rid myself of all my band tees though, *cries silently*.

The Regrettable: Part 1

I’m certain I was 16 at the time. I refused to shave my sides, of course. If my hair was down (not styled) I was left with a kind of mullet. There was definitely a tail. I would never choose this hair style again, but I do regret not taking photos on other days when the spikes/fin was 100% perfect. Yes, those are my real eye lashes.

This is what a foolish teenage liberal looks like. I can’t say I respect my former self, but I can’t say I respect who I am now. I have no clue what happened to that Buddha either.