Just another clingy Cancer

... or another layer of the onion is peeled back.

When I was growing up, my mother repeatedly told me that she didn't believe in astrology. Then she would open the newspaper to read her horoscope. Always an avid reader, I discovered the section of the bookstore that was classified as being "Occult" by age 15 or so. My first purchase was Linda Goodman's Sun Signs. I had never taken much faith in the daily horoscopes in the paper but when I read Linda's words, I felt that she had peered into my soul. I was hooked. I went back looking for more books. And found a book that gave instructions on how to calculate natal charts. There was just one problem. You needed a couple of other books to complete the calculations -- an ephemeris and a book of houses. I had to look the first up in the dictionary. What the hell was that anyway? I then set out searching local bookstores and libraries for the magical books. (I was 16 by this time and quite resourceful.) no luck on all fronts. But somewhere along the way I came across the word "metaphysics." So I searched for metaphysical bookstores in the Yellow Pages and found one in Berkeley. They had everything I needed. (It's a shame they went out of business a few years ago. A part of myself died with that store closure.) I then set out to do my own natal chart. Once friends learned of my newest interest, they requested that I do their charts as well.

A year later I went back to the store to buy my first Tarot deck. But I mistreated that deck. Along the way I ended up losing a few cards. When I replaced it, I was much wiser. I bought the replacement deck at a shop in London, the first time that I was there. It is kept in a wooden box, wrapped in a silk scarf. But don't ask me to do a card reading because it's been years since I've done one. Grasshopper treated me to a reading for my birthday this year. I think she thought I was oblivious to the deck. At times she struggled with the meaning of a particular card and I would tell her what it was. I trained myself to read the pictures so even if I haven't touched the cards in years, some of the meanings come back to me instantly -- especially since there are a certain group of cards that always show in readings for myself.

Thinking of England and cards reminds me of a certain intoxicated evening the summer I was there. One of the women in my suite in the dorms had discovered that I could do a simple relationship reading with regular playing cards (which are based upon the Minor Arcana of the Tarot). After a few days, I came to expect the knock on my door at a certain time of night. It was time for a study break and I needed to bring the cards to the common area of our suite so that I could do readings for all of the women in my suite. One night they decided to change things up. We headed out, me with cards in hand, to the pub on campus. They wanted their readings but they also wanted a few pints. Once the other patrons realized what was going on, they started to queue up at the table. They asked about payment. I stated that they simply needed to keep my glass full. One would argue that I was merely channeling a voice from an earlier life. I mean, isn't this what minstrels did in days of old? No one left unhappy. Maybe a bit more contemplative, but not unhappy.

So what does this have to do with the price of tea in China, or my post title for that matter? Well, I am prone to stream of consciousness. This is why Faulkner is one of my favorite authors. I was thinking of Laurie's latest horoscopes and the Drummer Boy. And then I thought of men in general. As Laurie rightfully pointed out, Cancers love adoration; we just have a hard time asking for those things that we need. So when we don't receive the adoration that we so crave, we start questioning everything. (OK. So maybe all of us don't. Maybe it's just me.) If I don't hear how great I am from a guy on a regular basis (That would be at least every other day at a minimum. Can you say insecure?), then I start to question the relationship. And Drummer Boy? I have not talked to him since Saturday. So I checked the band's website. They had a gig on Thursday night. I know that means that they were in rehearsal every night until midnight. I also know that he knows that most nights I'm asleep by the time he gets home from rehearsals. He would never call "too late" because he is considerate. I am very logical. That's why I love math so much. But sometimes logic has a hard battle with emotions. And that's where I am now.

Just another clingy Cancer. Looking for unconditional adoration. Thank goodness it's Fleet Week. And thank goodness for the kids because without them, I'd probably be an emotional wreck. Because yesterday I got another picture and the student wrote on it how great she thought I am. *sniff* So I went out last night and bought them some more books.