Always dreamed of joining a utopian commune? Take this quiz to learn how you’d fare on the farm:
1. It’s the first day on the farm and it’s time to get to work. You open the tool shed and grab:
- A. An axe. Chopping wood is the kind of hard, lonesome labor that will let a man truly know himself.
B. A pail and stool. You can’t wait to learn to milk that cow!
C. Whatever’s left after everyone else picks. You’re just so excited to contribute.
D. A pitchfork. What wonders surely lie within that pile of manure!
E. A butter churn. How wonderful to see the unruly milk resolve itself into the dependable firmness of butter
2. After a long day of farming, you’re most likely to remark:
- A. “We will walk on our own feet; we will work with our own hands; we will speak our own minds.”
B. “Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionally brutified.”
C. “For myself, I would not exchange this life for any I have ever led. I could not feel contented again with the life of isolated houses, and the conventions of civilization.”
D. “What a sympathetic union we have found between intellectual and manual labor!”
E. “Just keep working and the seas will turn to lemonade.”
3. What’s your favorite animal on the farm?
- A. The cat gives me quiet comfort.
B. The cows! The cows!
C. I find camaraderie in the braying of the sheep.
D. There’s a lark that sings each morning at my window.
E. I like the ducks.
4. Which New York-based publication do you get shipped to the farm so you can stay in touch?
- A. The New York Review of Books
B. The New Yorker
C. The New York Post
D. The New York Times.
E. The Wall Street Journal
- A. The goddess Diana.
B. A gypsy fortune teller.
C. An Indian squaw.
D. Moll Pitcher, the renowned old witch of Lynn.
E. A Revolutionary war hero.
6. When it’s your turn to give an evening reading in the Eyrie, you offer a selection from:
- A. One Hundred Years of Solitude
B. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
C. US Weekly
D. The Sorrows of Young Werther (in the original German)
E. Discourse on the Origin of Inequality
- A. Single Ladies.
C. Independent Woman
D. Crazy in Love
E. Who’s Beyonce?
8. So you’re going to found an idyllic New England town. The first thing you build is:
- A. My house. We must each first tend to ourselves.
B. A library. I’ll need a quiet place to write.
C. A Pizza Palace. Where we go for fun and pizza.
D. Storytelling Alley. So we can all gather together and share in our knowledge of the world.
E. Town Hall. Civic responsibility, first and foremost.
9. Which Buzzfeed quiz most represents you?
- A. Which City Should You Actually Live In?
B. Which Character from a Stephen Sondheim Musical Are You?
C. Which Pixar Movie Are You?
D. Which Movie/TV High School Would You Attend?
E. Which European Country Do You Actually Belong In?
Once you’ve answered all the questions, tally up your score: A’s count for 1 point, B’s for 2, C’s for 3, D’s for 4, E’s for 5.
Let’s be honest: you just don’t want to be a farmer. You’ve got a lot of big ideas, and hanging out all day with the pigs and the chickens isn’t one of them. You are admired by all for your sound judgment; be aware that your opinion means a lot and your care for your fellow idealists may lead you to string them along, fearful of deflating their activism by not validating their well-intentioned impulses. But ultimately you believe that a man must get his own house in order before fixing his neighbors, and while it may be fun to sit around in a barn and read Dante, the path to self-betterment requires a good deal more lonely rigor. Can’t we all just go into the woods alone and be transparent eyeballs?
You are an artist, first and foremost. You’re totally down to try out some utopian farming stuff, especially because the farm sounds like a great place to get some writing done. And you even probably enjoy learning to milk a cow and having manure fights. But farming is hard, and when the shit hits the fan your real work is your first priority. Writing is the way you know to change the world: your words will outlive us all, including anyone who kind of thought it was kind of lame of you to give up when farming got a little difficult.
Some people may call you a gossip. Some people may call you shallow. You may not have many big ideas—Hell, you sometimes don’t even seem to care if you change the world at all. But you’re also the kind of meat-and-potatoes utopian dreamer that keeps this place running. You’re always up for breakfast, you log the most hours, and you’re there to egg people on to one last tableau vivant before bed. Above all you believe in people, and you find faith when you take a moment to look up from your plow and see this place teeming with life. History may not remember you, but you love being here. And that’s good enough for you.
It’s all on you, buddy: don’t let the people down. Your belief is contagious, and you inspire others through your actions. Unfortunately, you’re not the best public speaker. And when the going gets tough, you tend to lose the forest for the trees and catch on the plan that sounds best, without considering long-term consequences. You may never become as famous as Emerson or Thoreau, but don’t forget about all the lives that you have touched and changed for the better. And some day, 150 years from now, maybe a theater company will make a play about how much they admire your faith and how much Emerson sucks for not coming with.
You have the name of a villain from a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel: is it any wonder that many misinterpret your activism as megalomania? Known by all for your determined, clearheaded ambition, you can be a divisive figure. Some are taken in by your persuasive public persona, while others whisper that you are a cause-driven, activist robot. But that doesn’t really bother you. The truth is, you have a vision, and it’s a good one, and if people would just shut up and listen then the seas would turn to lemonade. As for this farming thing: it’s not totally your bag. You’ll let the others get their hands dirty while you take care of the proselytizing.