Tuesday, October 01, 2002


I have a little theory that if you look at what you were obsessed with during early adolescence, you will find traces--or even big fat hunks--of it in your life right now. Those hormones were also a kind of body/brain preservative, for good and for ill.

Take astrology. I'm an atheist now, and in awe of science. But I can't help but think, "Goddamned Mercury in retrograde." Because, when I was 13, along with "The Scarlet Letter," "Macbeth," "The Fountainhead," and "Steal This Book," I was reading, over and over, "Linda Goodman's Sun Signs." Memorizing my own qualities, and the qualities of those I would soon be in love with. (Oh Libra boy, you never knew.)

I've mostly broken myself of the habit of checking my horoscope, except for Rob Brezsny, because he is a wonderful, right-brained writer, and I love the idea of Free Will Astrology. But I can tell when I'm feeling vulnerable because I start turning into this doom-obsessed gothchick before there were gothchicks. And blaiming my printer's demise on the stars.

I also am captivated by the Pet Psychic, who I would love to introduce to our dog.

Yup, can't wait until Mercury is out of retrograde and I become a rational person again.


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