"She is sad about something. It doesn't matter what it is. The world is dark and dismal, and there's no hope that anything will change. Life is real, Life is earnest, Life is serious, Life is monotonous-and Life is certainly negative. She's a Taurus girl, indulging herself in a rare, but ever-so-deep and blue, binge of futility.
"Along comes a Libra man. He sits quietly next to her, takes her hand gently in his own, and looks at her softly, in silence, after offering her his large, clean handkerchief. She continues to frown, in abject misery. Men! Men are part of what's wrong with everything. And here's another one of them, trying to feed her a line so he can seduce her. But wait. This one isn't saying a word. He's just sitting there near her, very near.....peacefully pouring calm all over her, like olive oil-and gazing at her with....is it adoration? Whatever it is, it's romantic. Then, after a long while, he speaks.
"'Never mind, darling. You'll feel better tomorrow.' His voice is like creamy-smooth caramel candy-and oh, how she loves creamy-smooth caramel candy! (So does he, although it's very bad for both of them.) But even this doesn't cheer her. No. Life is real, Life is dull, Life is a great big nothing. Life is a put-on and a put-down. Both.
"'No, I won't feel better tomorrow. I won't. I won't. I won't.'
"Libra speaks again, still sweetly. 'You're so beautiful when you're sad. Tears make your eyes sparkle like green emeralds. If it didn't break my heart to know you're unhappy, I'd like to see tears in them all the time. Let's see how they look when you laugh.'
"Life is real. Life is-well, Life is getting more interesting. But-'No, I can't laugh. I want to, but I can't. I simply can't.'
"'You must. Darling, if you believe long enough, and deeply enough, all good things will come to pass. Not a single dream you ever dreamed will fail to come true, if you keep your emotional balance and look at the bright side.' Now, he smiles. A Libra smile is a deadly weapon that should be outlawed, so Libra men could never use it to take advantage of poor Taurus girls, who melt into squidgy fudge ripples when they're shown affection-and are truly appreciated. But so far, they haven't been outlawed. So...he smiles.
"'Tomorrow will be better. It really will. You'll see.'
"'No, it won't. I want it to be better, but I just know it won't.'
"Then he kisses her. It will."
Goodman, Linda. Love Signs: A New Approach to the Human Heart. 1978, New York City, New York. Ballantine Books.
Best horoscope story ever? I think so. -squee-
Even though I hate her, Rihanna's got me wondering...if she's actually into S&M. I mean, people can sing songs about anything (a perfect example being another one of her songs where she gets chained to a bed and lit on fire), but they don't actually do them. I'm not sure if it's just how taboo the concepts of sadism and masochism are that it shocks me into thinking, 'well, maybe...' or if it's so "out there" that it's possible she actually feels that way. I mean, come on, people, she's a complete whore and there's nothing wrong with having personal fetishes, why not? It just makes me wonder sometimes...If I ever meet Chris Brown, I'll just have to ask. Maybe that's why he hit her so much. "I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it."
I cried the other night out of fear. I don't think I have ever cried from pure fear before. It was funny because it's one of those "defining" moments, and I remember it quite clearly...I was lying on my left side, facing East, with the phone between my ear and the floor. My legs were rubbing against my rough, maroon carpet and I was listening to his voice stream through my awful mobile signal. He told me about how college would be. How I would get taken advantage of, and how people would hold me down and I couldn't get away. That there would be no respect. That these people would place themselves everywhere they could get, even places I didn't want. It was then that I realised that I was walking into a world I couldn't control, that wouldn't respect me, and that I would be just another girl in the crowd. It scared me. I sobbed softly as we finished the call. I lay on the floor for another hour, trying to block out the horrid visions of what I was willingly walking into. The thing is: I don't plan on getting drunk there, or partying there, or taking drugs, or really anything that would make me more vulnerable than a girl already is. Yet, the thought that no matter what I do, some man will always be stronger than me is completely...infuriating, really. The thought that a man would get say on my life and choices is disgusting. I spit on the thought. It's grimy and low. Men will never have say that like that. Not if I can help it. And on God, I swear, I will try my damnedest.
Willows whisper through the sky,
"what is a life built on a lie?"
And trouble comes throughout the talk,
of truth and cake and old school chalk.
"Where truth is not necessity,
we live out lives of true pity."
The woods nod and give consent,
a life without truth,
is a life ... with a dent.'
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