I have a fabulous new online friend named Sarah, who is a writer, advocate, and generally awesome chick.  I am certain that time and circumstance will allow us to be face-to-face friends someday.  She also does intuitive work, including tarot and astrology readings.  

 

 The Virgin...  cough, cough.

The Virgin...  cough, cough.

 

Of course, I asked her to check my chart.  The stars might know something I don't, but probably not because I am a Virgo and we're almost perfect and usually right.  

This wasn't my first stellar rodeo.

Past readings I've had always involved my being on the cusp of something great but never quite having the courage to go for it.  It's funny since we Virgo women are supposed to have spines made of steel.  Or maybe "My balls are made of BRASS," to quote myself from an infamous 1st Avenue fight with Ex2. 

The variations in how the world views us, how those who love or hate us view us, and how the stars view us are pretty incredible.  But when you break it down to the bare facts, the only view that matters is the one you have of yourself.  Mine ebbs and flows--some days it's like Gangsta Party is playing when I walk in a room while other days I feel like I can't crawl out of the hole and may possibly be the worst person ever.  Except genocidal dictators.  Those dudes are totally worse than me.  I try to minimize the damage to others in dealing with my short comings.  BTW, did everyone read about Hitler's micro-penis?  (Note:  It's not okay to make fun of birth defects, unless it's Hitler.  Fuck him.)


 I highlighted by favorite phrases from Sarah's reading into this poem, which will be an anthem for the days I'm hurting.  Why not believe in the stars?  They seem to believe in me.  

 

badass bitch, 

your way is the right way

fix situations, great storyteller

you love to be loved

you are the queen most satisfied when you are helping others

your co-workers are more like your family than friends

you are not someone who likes to stay still

active

moving 

powerful person.

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