The scholar

You'd have dug alone into why the world turns as it does. Poring over books and puzzling, you asked “is that really so” without end. Rather than teach up front you mined reason in a back room, and few knew of it, but the knowing itself pleased you enough not to mind.

You judged by reason over feeling. A flaw in what everyone took for granted, and you simply couldn't let it pass — so you were called difficult when you only meant to be exact. You told right from wrong by logic, not by mood.

You chafed at a pinned seat and the set norm. You went as your thought flowed after what intrigued you rather than push a plan, and so tying one thing off at the end was hard. If you still dig alone until the “why” gives way, it's an old streak.