Confession: I have a bit of a superstitious streak. I did, once, wear the same hair bands in my ponytail for every post-season softball game. Pretty sure that’s why we won the sixth grade championship.However, try as I may, I cannot seem to get involved in astrology. My very close friend has scary accurate horoscopes. Like, they tell her what food to eat for breakfast. It’s cereal today, in case you were wondering. Ok, I don’t actually know that, but these things are for real.
Mine always just tell me not to leave the house for fear that football sized hail (shaped like footballs, because that would be awesome) will hit me in the head and send me to the emergency room. Winning.
But then, this same friend (not the one who comes from a long line of gypsies– that one already read my palm and told me I’m going to be poor) suggested that I look up a full astrological profile– not day by day or month by month, but a complete analysis of my personality based on the alignment of the starts and planets at the moment of my birth.
Dude. It’s scary right.
I’m not even kidding, this thing is telling me stuff about myself that I didn’t even know. Like my Pluto zodiac is Scorpio at 10.42 degrees! Also, Chiron was in Cancer at 7.24! I have no idea what those things mean! But I do know that Chiron is a character in Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus, who rapes a woman and then gets executed and baked into a pie. There’s a happy thought for you today.
Anyway. This horoscope really did teach me a lot about myself, and not in a “today you will need to carefully watch your money, Virgo, because a tall, dark stranger will enter your life and try to steal your debit card” kind of way. In a “I should print this thing and hand it to people” kind of way.
So that is officially my new plan.
Hot guy at the gym? “Here. I want you to read this for full disclosure before we engage in what I’m sure will be a stimulating conversation. Also, I am restless and somewhat nervous. When I am not involved in a project, I feel incomplete. Frankly, that’s why I’m here; bikini season is a bit of a project for me. Also, baking butt cookies. On the plus side, I’m a very sensuous and progressive woman.”
Supervisor at an unfulfilling and thankfully temporary job? “My conflict due to misrepresentation of myself can lead to my rubbing people the wrong way and also feeling unrecognized and misunderstood. So the other day, when I almost punched that woman in the face? Yeah, that was just my internal conflict coming to light, not a reflection of my incompetence as an employee.”
The new stock boy at the grocery store who is concerned that I cannot choose between green tea brands? “Don’t worry, I’m just being diplomatic and tactful, evaluating and weighing things to the point of indecisiveness. You see these other foods in my cart? The sheer fact that I am in this factory of horror is proof that I have not yet gone off my rocker. Also, if you see me in the cold medicine aisle casually perusing the comparable prices between ibuprofen and acetaminophen, would you just leave me be? It requires a certain meditative state to arrive at the correct conclusion.”
It’s a new form of social media, when you think about it. Clearly, my extensive horoscope will be circulated around the world, and my presence and role in the universe will become a topic of daily conversation. Then I will be on the Ellen DeGeneres Show, which, as you know, is my life’s goal.
The only downside to this plan is that suddenly, the whole world will become experts on me. Basically, I’ll be a celebrity, only instead of having completely fabricated tabloids written about my supposed cellulite and how I had an affair with the ambassador to Jack in the Box, people will know actual things about the way I think.
They’ll start pulling numbers out of thin air, like degrees and cycles and light years, and instead of being able to say, “Actually, Your Honor, I was car shopping with my father, searching for the perfect mid-sized sedan, so it’s not possible for me to have assaulted that member of the paparazzi, as this charge is being filed in the state of Connecticut,” all I can say is, “I don’t know what those numbers mean. So I guess you’re right. I am The Chosen One.”
Now there’s a cult about me. And I don’t even really like Kool Aid.
Birth Chart? Presently being deleted from my computer’s history.
There goes that idea.