Sleep With One Eye Open

 

I wake up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling and wonder if I switched off that coffee maker that I haven’t used in a few days because I opted for tea―for the nerves. I turn to my phone and remind myself not to check any emails, social media or news before a decent hour. I obey and open my music library. Enigma finally made a new album and I press play on the first song. I set all songs on repeat on my drive from California to Florida. Even the first notes remind me of that time. I was worried back then. Am now.  And it reflects on my now as the musical association doesn’t untangle my sleepless loop of thoughts. In general, I worry too much.

I cannot just sit there and do nothing. I have to keep active, even if it just means making a list and checking it off as I go along. Not making progress or the feeling of being useless irks me. At my last job, I felt completely expendable. I was always on time, always did my job, quicker and more diligently and friendlier than most of my colleagues. I wouldn’t show my displeasure or unhappiness or if I felt that a way of doing something as ordered from above does not seem efficient in my opinion. I generally take orders very well and I work until my job is done. And then some. I quit because I felt stagnant. Idle.

I’m at this party, which is unusual in itself because I don’t like crowds (which to me is more than maybe five people). Except maybe at someone’s house, with only two or three others, playing board games and tasting wine. I was never the life of any party; and if I was, I probably had an exceptional day or left my bubble for a second. I prefer to stick with the people I know, but I’m not afraid to strike up a conversation with a stranger, especially when I feel that the vibes are right. Humor has always helped a great deal in those situations. I wish I was more naturally outgoing and less shy. There are so many girls in high heels at this party who just wink their fake eye lashes and contort their lips to a fake O in amazement. Or maybe they’re not fake, they’re just not shy and not introvert, like me. And that’s ok. Most of them are fake though.

Bullies annoy me. As does stupidity. Cue political situation, but I won’t. And I tend to take some things the wrong way if something doesn’t comply with my inner checklist. I may take some things too personal that were never intended to be. Classic sender-receiver-missed-message triangle, and a great deal of over-sensitivity on my part.  We learned that in Linguistics. I hated that class because everything was so methodical and didn’t make sense to me back then. It does now. I love it when a method works out, and when a plan comes together, to put it in A-Team jargon.

Practical, analytical, hard-working, cool front (hey!), witty, reliable. In a nutshell, yes, I believe I’m the poster child for the Virgo zodiac sign. I love it and I hate it. I love it more than I hate it, but I definitely must stop worrying so much and trust more. Period.

#30DayWritingChallenge

Day 7: Your zodiac sign and if you think it fits your personality

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