The cover of the book I’m reading has a picture of someone cutting grass with a pair of scissors. It’s called Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment of Perfectionism, and it has the most amusing cover of any clinical book I’ve read to date. The content is not particularly humorous, but it’s interesting.
Reading the section on the causes of perfectionism prompted my mind to go back to Monday, when I was having talking to my dad about cloned lifeforms, identity, family skeletons that paraded out of that closet years ago, and personality traits. And a slew of other things, but the personality discussion sticks out. My dad and I tend to be competitive and tend to make it a point to focus energy on things in which we are skilled at. We differ in that my dad used to be impulsive – things change with age – and I am not.
Avoiding risk isn’t entirely an anxiety thing with me – it’s lack of interest. I just don’t find impulsive behavior appealing. I can put off enjoyable things for extended periods of time. My idea of a good time after work is looking at pictures of cats on the Internet. I’m not sure if I can explain it any better than just saying meh.
Nature and nurture is a funny thing.