It is kind of funny how we identify with certain things though.
I remember the first time I read Jane Austen's Emma. Emma was Austen's favorite novel. Her favorite heroine. And yet she was convinced that no one else would like such a spoiled, meddlesome creature. I like Emma. Some of her less desirable traits remind me of me.
I had a doctor once who teased me about being part lizard. Though all sorts of parts and organs have been checked and cleared I'm cold all the time. Unless I'm sweating, I'm cold. Consequently I love to sit in light and heat. Add to that a propensity for turning colors with my feelings-- red, white, green, blue, yellow-- and you may see where he was coming from. I actually used to eat like a lizard to entertain my friends.
I used to think of myself as one of those plants, that like lilies and daffofils, die back in the winter and then sprout again in the spring. This past month or so I've been thinking that I'm more like an anemone. One tightly closed up because of some disturbance in the water. One that knows if she doesn't open up a bit she'll eventually starve to death. But every single disturbance- every trace of turbulence- just seems to tighten me up more.