my ambition writes checks my anxiety can’t cash
know much about astrology?
i’m kind of a huge fan and there’s this thing about knowing too much about yourself. so much so that it becomes some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.
i have a leo sun sign. that means i’m ambitious. i’m optimistic. i’m generous when i’m not being a self-serving, bitch-faced narcissist. it generally means that i get caught up in the moment and swept away by enthusiasm. it’s like the rip tide of social anxiety regret.
let’s pair that with my moon sign. if the sun is our outer personality, think about your moon sign like your inner gremlin. that voice that’s always telling you to eat your husband’s leftovers or steal your son’s guns’n’roses tshirt because he doesn’t appreciate them nearly enough. it’s who we are on the inside in relation to what’s going on outside ourselves.
still with me?
anyway, my moon sign is a taurus and if you’re looking for a stubborn, lazy, snack-shoveling homebody who never wants to budge from in front of your laptop because you’re on a six-hour SIMS 4 bender, well, taurus is your sign. or my sign, as it were.
all this equates to this obnoxious personality trait where i get myself caught up in how cool it would be to do something new and novel and making plans and talking about plans and sharing plans and paying facebook ad money to get the plans out there so that maybe other people would want to come, too….wouldn’t that be fucking cool?
only to have that day arrive and absolute dread set in.
what in the actual fuck was i thinking?
turns out, i mostly like the plans when they exist in my head. perfect. robust. inspiring. and requiring absolutely zero effort from me.
so much so that when the day arrives for whatever the fuck i got myself into weeks before when i was more naïve and annoyingly extroverted, i get myself physically sick.
today for example.
back in february, i thought hosting a virtual paint and sip night tonight would be epic. (it’s literally part of my business plan, so it’s not like february megan was being more obnoxiously optimistic than normal, but still.)
so here we are. it’s paint night.
and i can think about about 1,454 things i’d rather do than sit in front of a zoom camera for 90 minutes blabbering my way through a knock-off bob ross landscape. for real. there’s that new puppet-goblin-show-thing on nickelodeon i keep seeing commercials for. my pots and pans are getting kinda out of control each time i open the pantry and could use a good organizing. there’s dog hair on the stairs that looks like it’s actually starting to have a heartbeat and political opinions. oh yeah, and the 13 books i bought from the bookstore downtown in the past two months when i was sure i’d have time to study indian cooking, the art of swedish death cleaning and mandarin chinese.
all of that…all of it…sounds way more relaxing and way less stressful than pulling out my concealer and beating these under eye bags into submission, cleaning the dirt out of my fingernails and using my “happy megan voice” for almost two hours.
all of a sudden, all i want to do…all i have to do…is clean out underneath my bed and make sure all of my shoes have matches. (literally, like only 1 in 4 pairs of my shoes have their match right now).
i don’t want to paint. i don’t want to adult. i really don’t even want to human today.
but i’ll dig deep, pull up my big girl panties (the ones the promise not to roll down my fat stomach if i lean forward too far to grab my avocado toast from the edge of my desk) and i’ll paint tonight. and i’ll have a beautiful time and connect with beautiful, creative people that make my life better just by knowing them and i’ll float home and tell my husband i have the best side hustle in the world.
i’ll let myself rest a few weeks and then i’ll get the greatest idea ever. what if i hosted a paint night…but this time with FLAMINGOS?!
wash, rinse, repeat.