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February 24, 2002 ~ A Scorpio I Am Not
The stars will not tell you who I am. I'm sorry, they just won't.
You know how sometimes you are surfing around, reading other people's journals, and you come across something that someone wrote that just gives you a bitter taste in your mouth and a tight knot in your stomach? When they are saying something really mean--a broad generalization or a really judgmental statement--that applies to you but doesn't jive with the way that you are at all, and you want to correct them about it, but just don't want to expend the effort since they probably didn't really think about it all that much anyway and weren't serious? No? Well, I do that sometimes.
I came across something that someone wrote today that did that to me. She was talking about how this woman she knows is completely unreasonable, and she explained why this woman was unreasonable by simply stating, "she's a Scorpio." She then transfers this judgment onto her readers, saying that she can tell the reader is just cringing at the mere mention of a Scorpio, since everybody knows how Scorpios are so "volatile" and "seethingly resentful." In fact, she goes on, Scorpios "thrive" on "bitterness." Scorpios are "sneaky" and "evil." And she goes on and on about how terrible Scorpios are.
Now, it just so happens that I am, technically, by virtue of the day on which I was born, a Scorpio. And it also just so happens that I don't fit most descriptions of a Scorpio. At all. Especially ones like the one related above. (Good Lord, I hope not, anyway!).
I know that astrology really means a lot to and works well for some people, but it has just never been accurate, helpful, or wanted for me. I also know that a lot of my aversion to astrology probably comes from people telling me, for most of my life, that I "should act more like a Scorpio," that I "shouldn't act against my star sign," and that I really ought to be "more of a Scorpio." In case you can't guess, those types of statements drive me a little batty. I am me, and I tend to act like me. When people tell me that I am "not acting like myself" based on their preconceived notion of what I am like, based solely on my star-sign, I tend to feel a little... well, tired and boxed in.
For instance, I am very calm and very patient, and I very rarely get angry. Yet I have met people who have decided, upon learning my birth date, that I must be a very irritable, easily angered, and volatile person. And the whole "Scorpios are extremely vengeful" thing. Yeah, I--an extreme pacifist who's always stressing the importance of forgiveness--am very vengeful. Okay, sarcastic, occasionally, maybe, but not vengeful. Oh, and they always talk about how Scorpios are the most sexual star sign. Heh. Right. Anyone who knows me in person is probably laughing pretty heartily at that one. Pessimistic? I really don't think so. Especially considering that people sometimes complain about how annoyingly idealistic I tend to get. Arg. I could go on and on, but I think you get the point.
Now, granted, there are a lot of things that I consider to be good about typical Scorpio traits, but I don't think that I fit many of them, either.
I guess, when it comes right down to it, I feel a little cheated when someone assumes that they know everything about me merely from learning what day I was born on. I want to be known for who I am, not what someone believes I am without even getting to know me.
Oy. Goodness. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on such a rant. You know how on my bio I talk about how I'm tired of labels? Well, astrology qualifies as one of those labels. I may have been born on November 21st, but I am not, in the traditional sense, a "Scorpio."
On the other hand, Morgan thinks that he fits Scorpio pretty well, and I tend to agree. Ah well.
How about something light after all that, eh? Last night, as I was undressing to get in the shower, I glimpsed my back in the mirror. I started laughing, and Morgan came running in.
"What??"
"Look," I said, turning around so he could see. My skin was a blue color in every spot that my bra did not cover, from my neck down to my waist and all down my arms to my wrists.
"Oh my God! You look like someone beat you!"
And I sure did. It seemed my blue shirt had a wee bit too much excess dye in it, and it had dyed me. "Help me scrub my back then."
Morgan laughed. "No, I don't think so."
"Why not?!?"
"'Cause it's funny."
So I still have blue skin on my back, "'cause it's funny."
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