My imagination made me a cheap kid to raise, but it has made adulthood more expensive. One of the few things that can overwhelm my cheapskate gene (thanks dad!) is my imagination. I've rescued the President (of course) with my knowledge of cryptographic history, defeated the yakuza with my knowledge of kung fu, economics and awareness of the law of inverse ninja power (the last was admittedly a freebie), solved crimes, saved damsels in distress and located the bomb just in time with my lie detection skills and met the girl of my dreams several times over with a grasp of various areas of trivia that I had on hand at just the right moment. And if I don't buy THAT book, I just know I'll live to regret it.
The urge is probably strengthened by my love of games that build character skills through in-game books, but is strangely unaffected by a lack of affirming feedback over the years.
Common dysfunction?
