You pick things up to see what they do — instruments, languages, people's life stories, whatever was on the table. The enthusiasm is genuine every single time, and it makes rooms brighter: around you, things feel possible again.
The cost is the shelf of week-three abandonments. Starting is lightning and middles are rain, and some people have stopped taking your announcements seriously, which stings precisely because each one was sincere when you said it.
The Page of Wands stares at the staff like it is about to become something — and that gaze is your engine, so keep it. Just choose, occasionally and deliberately, one flame to feed past the interesting part. One finished thing changes how everything else you start is received.