By Anne T. Donahue
Every year, I lay in wait, preparing myself for Virgo season a.k.a. the only time of year that matters.
And I understand that you might disagree. (You’d be wrong, but I understand it.) Virgo season demands a lot: we ask for everybody to be competent, for everybody to do what we (I) say, to make lists and then to colour-coordinate those lists to ensure the utmost levels of organization. Beyonce is a Virgo. Zendaya. Keanu Reeves. Keke Palmer. It is a sun sign of excellence, of the highest standards – of almost paralyzing anxiety, masked by a façade of “everything’s fine.” Miranda Priestly’s “a pile of stuff” speech is a remarkable example of Virgo excellence. Is she a Virgo? I don’t care. I am, and that’s what matters.
So this is how you, a sign that may not be a Virgo, can survive Virgo season. I believe in you, but more specifically, I believe in us, a community of Type-A nightmare-people. We may have clenched jaws, but we also have Renaissance.
Openly brag about your competence/productivity
Perhaps the biggest flex Virgos have is how good they are at doing work. Is the flex accurate? Not necessarily: this piece was actually due this afternoon, and I am writing it at 8 p.m. I was also late in making a birthday reservation next week for me and my mom, so I had to pivot to another place/time. But do I advertise that? Do I acknowledge that napping ranked above all else this afternoon? No: instead, I own the nap by talking up about how busy I’ve been; how much I’ve been doing. “I’ve been doing so much!” I will declare when asked about where this particular piece is. “I’m so sorry, it’s been bananas!” Will I be believed? It doesn’t matter: I am a Virgo, and this personality trait is all I have.
Make lists upon lists upon lists
I cannot stress this enough: list everything, at every opportunity, to the bewilderment of every person around you. Make lists of what you need to buy, what you need to do, what you’ve already done, and how many more notepads you’ll need for all your lists. Will you make your way through all of them? Absolutely not, but crossing even one thing off creates a false sense of superiority that will fuel the energy needed for another list, as well as the energy to accept all the compliments you will get about how organized and on-top-of-your-shit you are. (Let them think it. We deserve praise.)
Get a planner, and then make that planner your entire identity
I love my written planner more than I love members of my own family, and I wish I could say I was joking, but I am deranged and thus I am not. Enter: my planner, which I use to write down the ins and outs of my day, and convince myself that I can take on a million tasks despite knowing as I write them down that I will never get around to finishing all of them (and will cancel a slew of plans because adulthood means rescheduling everything, forever).
So this is where you acquire your own written planner. Must you use it? Not necessarily, but make sure to familiarize yourself enough that you can talk about it; can bring it up even when the conversation is unrelated. Answer all questions with, “I’ll check my planner!” and create a sense of wonderment over how dedicated you are to the craft (of being absolutely insufferable – but in a good way). Buy stickers, and put those in the planner. Highlight your plans in pink, your deadlines in green, and your bill payments in orange. Then, when Insta-storying any aspect of your life, include said planner in the shot. This is your life now, and it should be seen.
Clench your jaw
I’m just kidding, do not do this. It will make you a bona fide Virgo until the day you die, but I beg you to please stop. My jaw is so tight that when I see my physiotherapist she asks me, “What happened?!” Dear lady, I was simply born. Even at my most relaxed, I am white-knuckling through the fear that I’m still somehow behind, still somehow missed including something in my planner. Currently, I am two sleeps away from a hangout I’ve been looking forward to for a long time with one of my oldest friends, and I’m already worried about what I should wear, what time we should leave, where we should eat, and whether she feels pressured into keeping our plans simply because we made them so early.
There is no hope for me. But for you, a fake Virgo, there is still time. Listen to Beyonce. Watch The Matrix. Brag about how much media you’re consuming, and then buy me a birthday present because it is on Tuesday, August 29.
Need a little more Anne? Read more from Anne T. Donahue right here!
