An admission of sorts from The Sparkle Chronicles:
“I’m no good at being spontaneous,” said Twilight. “Everything has to be planned, and everything has to fit into the plan. When it doesn’t fit, I have to improvise, and that means formulating another plan, and — you see? Another feedback loop.”
I need hardly point out that this condition isn’t at all confined to cartoon ponies:
I am the least spontaneous person I know. This is due to the cynicism, pessimism, and loathing of surprises that I’ve painstakingly developed over the years. I take two weeks of planning, research, and thinking up all possible outcomes of the endeavor just to buy new sneakers, and then I always get the same kind anyway. (Chuck Taylors FTW!) Before I go to the grocery store, I try to anticipate any and all conversations I might have to have with random loons there, just so I have my searing retort handy. Before I take a shower, I turn it off and back on again in case that perfect temperature the first time was a fluke.
And we know how this story ends:
Eventually, surprises and suddenness stop being entertaining and educational and fun. Things take a darker turn and soon you’re conditioned to expect the worst, and not in that “Try me, I can overcome anything, given enough time and a flame thrower” way. Things just fall apart in patterns you can’t fathom as to why, why, o lawd, why.
I don’t even answer the phone if I don’t recognize the number anymore. There are only so many times you can trust that jerk with the free cruise before you have to close your bank account and start over.
That would certainly make me cynical.