Virgo August 23-September 22

Virgo is the Virgin. True to this, the female Virgo will give you that impression, regardless of age. As the females have those delicate feminine features that make beauty look fresh and unspoiled. Many can wear little or no make-up as the shine of their lovely hair, and polished complexion give off its own radiance.

Clean, clean, almost to the point of chapped, a Virgo's hands we often be. They like bleach and powerful germ killlers and will use so generously. If you see a gentleman or lady leaving the bathroom in the mall with their shirt sleeve wrapped around the door handle.......more likely than not, this is a Virgo.

This can be a good thing, as it shows in other areas of their life. Do the job clean, orderly and correctly and all will be healthy. Physically maybe, mentality not quite. Tend to be obsessive compulsive by nature. Washing hands forty times a day could be one form, work obsessions are more common for the male version.

Although they appear shy and quiet they in fact are great conversationalists, as they love knowledge in many areas and thus are flexible with conversation. Busy folks, so finding time for conversation may cause people to have to book in advance.

Many Virgo women keep cats as pets, as the easy clean keeping of this animal makes it their top choice of pet.
As clean, and healthy is second nature to many of this signs, you will not be surprised to find many of them in the health or dental profession. They are great at following instruction, and don't mind routine in their work environment.

They are fun loving and down to earth, but slow in commitment of marriage. Many men never marry and a large percent of women marry later in life or to someone much older. They don't spend their youth looking for dates, but in learning, and accumulating.

Many Virgo's have a healthy bank account for those "what if" times in life. Though you will never know it. And even if the "what if" comes along they will try their hardest not to dip into it.

A Virgo will never bring you germs, but can be a loyal, sympathetic, and reliable friend. And if you remain their friend for life.......they might mention you in their secret will and with that you will see why they lived such a simple life.

Confidence Can Kill

Today we encourage people to build self-confidence.
Self-confidence is the key theory behind our ever popular self-improvement quests. One must be confident to achieve success, so society wishes us to believe. I believe it creates stupidity in mankind.
What is self-confidence? A lack of fear, an ability to trust yourself and all you do? But to what degree? Is there a unsafe level in one's self-confidence? Sure confidence can kill in high doses. Over-confidence can make the most intelligent individual a true idiot.

Individuals everyday lose their lives to the result of driving recklessly.
Individuals often wander off into the woods while on hunting trips, or recreational pursuits feeling confident they will find their way out. Many don't.
Individuals often leave young children unattended feeling confident they won't go missing. They do.
Individuals often have confidence in their pets, that they will never harm anyone. They do.
Individuals often drive in the winter or walk without care or concern of cold weather. Many freeze to death.
Individuals often like to admire wild animals at close range. Many get attacked.
Individuals often assume a vehicle will stop for them when J-walking. Many don't.
Individuals often don't know how to swim, yet refuse to wear a life-jacket.
Individuals often drink and drive and feel confident?

Individuals ........
The list is truly endless. Is this self-confidence a license for stupidity? Maybe there is something more beneficial in humble pie? What do you think? It might save your life.

Not Tonight

Too tired to sleep,
Too tired to dream,
Too tired to work on an evening theme.

Too tired to sing,
Too tired to dance,
Too tired to participate in any romance.

Too tired to read,
Too tired to write,
So for all you folks, I'll just say goodnight.

Crystal

Depression Does It Have A Purpose

We all struggle with depression from time to time. An aliment as common as that of the common cold, only lasting longer sometimes much longer.
And today with medical intervention it too can be treated much the same, a few pills everyday and some "Chicken Soup for the Soul," books bearing the similar effect of chicken broth on your cold.
Though just as colds have many strains, so does depression. With each cold virus our body builds a strength of immunity to that strain of virus. We will not catch the same cold twice. Is there a possible similarity to our ability to overcome, survive and conquer strains of depression, and thus form an immunity to that strain, or equipped us more readily for a new?
The baby blues, or (postpartum) is a common depression brought on after child birth. In different forms it can bring health risk to mother and baby. Though in mild forms, could it be a necessary part of a women's mental, emotion bond with her child? May it in fact be a needed emotional state?
I have had many forms of depression in my life, it is with realization, overcoming it, that life breaths new purpose and appreciation. It is an emotional barrier that once hurdled gives me more roses than thorns.
Had I not endured these and ran there course naturally, would I be who I am today. The mother I am, the wife I am, the daughter I am, the friend I am?
Or would I continue life, in a cycle of pill repressed emotion, as many do?


P.S.
I have never taken any form of drugs for my depression so I truly know not the affects. I am merely asking the question of is there purpose and growth from such an illness that has been overlooked, and understudied?

Is Honesty Foolish.

In my life, I have openly admitted to losing or misplacing things.
That I do not like commitment.
That I do not always return phone calls.
That I will not answer the phone if I am napping.
That I forget things.
That I hate doing laundry.
That my kids can be difficult.
That I need reminding.
That I am disorganized.
That I cannot spell.
That I can be late.

Now, because I openly admit to all these faults and more, does that mean that gives me an excuse not to try harder?
Some perhaps like laundry, or returning calls.
Or do I openly state these things to avoid the conflicts arising from people's high expectations and demands.
As I am far from perfect and will never be.
So am I foolish?

The other day I misplaced some important papers, I can do nothing now, but admit my fault; therefore I do so without shame or guilt. They look at me puzzled that I can do so easily, without worry of protecting my image. I have no image, for I am human I say. Aren’t we all.

If you read the first part of "A Choking Past" here is the second part.

Her nakedness did nothing to protect her from the cool air and as the goosebumps began to form, she returned to her chamber and drifted off once more.

The birds were singing, her alarm was ringing, twenty minutes had passed before she finally found the energy to shut it off.
She let out a slow moan as she got up, grabbing a cigarette before heading off to the shower. She would have to rush this morning though it would only mean she would wear her long golden hair up today. The thought of cutting it had often crossed her mind, but it was always put off for another time.

The cool water felt good as it fell softly compared to the rain in her dreams. She lathered her body quickly aware of the extra pounds she had put on since her move. This bothered her as she was fat as a teenager and when she finally slimmed down she remained obsessive about her body weight. Though it was only her curves that increased, that she could live with to a certain degree. She was large breasted and the added weight made her feel vulnerable to men's scrutiny. Her long legs were her best feature but remnants of childhood self-consciousness about her body weight made her reluctant to reveal them. As a result she wore too conservative clothes. Her legs were never bared. She never wore anything above the knees for a mini-skirt worn at 16 resulted in an ass whipping from her father and that was it. Her stomach protruded slightly though to her this was a motherly quality; at least that's what a fellow once told her, and she accepted this. She was not an overly beautiful girl, but there was an innocense about her smile and mannerism that attracted all people. With the addition of a little make-up and a nice hair style she could attract any man with little effort. She was sure of her self in appearance -- it was her soul she doubted.

My Novel Attempt from 1992.

On those nights where my head is to tired to think, by body is to exhausted to type, I look to the past. I'd like to share with you bits and pieces of my old novel attempts, rather than them continuing to collect dust as they have in the last ten years. Here goes:

A Choking Past

Finishing the last pages in her romance novel, she switched off the lamp on the night stand, and rolled over on her back, only to stare at the white stucco on the ceiling. She was lonely, and tonight the feeling of emptiness inside was increased by the world of fictional romances. Though in the back of her mind she knew this was what she wanted ever since she moved here three months ago. A life of solitude, of simple routine, one free of the past that seemed to haunt her soul endlessly, a life where romantic conflict was only found in black type upon white paper. Simple and Safe.

The rain pounded down, slapping against her face, burning her eyes. Frantically she ran with her bare feet splashing though the thick, cold mud. As she ran toward the tree line, the mud grew thicker upon her heels, like weights of iron, holding her back, the rain came down harder as if to drown her with little effort. She flung her arms in front of her face wildly trying to protect her face from the jabbing rain. As she approaches the tree line for shelter, it would slowly disperse, like a morning fog, only to cause her to panic in search of another.

Again she would dart toward the trees and they would disappear, and the rain would only fall harder and faster, until she could no longer see as she gasped for oxygen inhaling the rain istead, and her lungs would scream out in pain and she would scream out in her sleep only to awaken in her bed the sheets moist from sweat from her night terrors.

Abruptly, she awoke to her own cries, her body felt weak and tired, while her head throbbed in attempt to awaken to reality.
She glanced over to her alarm clock -- it was already three, four more hrs of rest before she had to get up. She knew she would only relapse into her nightmare if she drifted off again soon.

Lifting her duvet she went on to get up and headed to the wash room. Jabbing her toe on the bedroom door as she made her way down the dark hall to the toilet. Turning on the light, her green eyes squinted while trying to adjust to the light. She glanced at her reflection for a quick second then planted herself on the toilet and relieved herself. Then just sat as if waiting for the next train through, but there was no train only her thoughts. She understood her dreams, as she had these nightmares ever since she left Quebec. Though she hated them and what they revealed about her, wishing them away week after week only to be disappointed. She had once thought of going to see a psychiatrist for them, but she knew he would probably tell her what she already knew but didn't wish to face. The night terrors were easier to deal with then the realities of herself.

"What is the meaning of life?"

I found this during my bathroom break, it is a quote from the Dalai Lama in the February issue of Reader Digest. Brilliantly humble man he is.

( "I am nothing but a servant to provide to others." Otherwise you may get like, "Oh, I'm quite important." And this creates arrogance and exploitation. So, if you provide some happiness, some comfort to others, then your life becomes meaningful. If your life creates problems or suffering to others, then there's no meaning to your existence.")

So true, so true...

Diffuse thy Enemy

Awhile back I came across an article about “Explosive personalities”
They are the people who no matter rain or shine, they complain and blame.
They are the people that cannot count their blessing but dwell on the lack of.
They are the people that thrive on conflict and crisis.
They are the people whom put others down to keep themselves up.
They are the people that you can never please no matter the effort.
They are the people that make misery into company.

At the time, I read the article, I was dealing with an explosive individual. It seemed she would lash out regardless of the situation or topic. I walked on egg shells every time she came to visit. Worried somehow someway I would set her off.

Relief and true wisdom was revealed in the short write up on dealing with these individuals. Here is a summary of it’s content.

Misery and conflict are an emotion, just as we get a high from being in love and seek out that emotional bliss, so do explosive personalities. Ironically, they feel a sense of powerful bliss from the uncomfortable state they can arise out of other individuals. They thrive on conflict and turmoil because it is an extreme emotion and provides them with that high. Similar to that of a drug addiction, it has been proven that emotion stress raises your adrenaline.

Many people find relationships with these individuals both draining and confusing. Turbulent and uncomfortable but because these folks are present in our everyday lives we must learn to diffuse them.

That is where the author explains the difference between RESPOND, and REACT. We all tend to react in feeling of emotional stress. Just as we react to a ball being tossed at us. We protect ourselves and try like hell to catch it.

This reaction is the domino affect that helps feed the needs and craving of the “explosive personality.” We then are feeding them the drug and aiding in their self-destructive behavior. For example, “I cannot believe that, that is terrible. You must feel awful.” These kind of comments validate their negativity.

To respond, just like that of a Great baseball player, we must be prepared and ready without fear of catching the ball, and tossing it back. We must respond to the conversation, not react to it. “I am hopeful for you, I see your dilemma.” These are examples of the method of RESPONDING. In this way we are maintaining an air of positiveness that does not enable them to carry the conversation back into a negative direction. With no fix they will go elsewhere. Good Luck.

Gemini (May 21-June 20)

The Geminian is truly a lonely and lost individual. Though you may never know it, it may never be revealed, as the strength of a Geminian lies in their ability to maintain an air of mystery and confidence.

I enjoy the company of the Gemini, as many people do, they are great conversationalists, and full of fresh, new ideas. At times they see the world in their own reality therefore the truth can sometimes be altered or stretched for the benefit of conversation. Some say they are looking for their twin, I think in reality they are looking for their reflection. A validation of who they are or wish to be.

Amazing things about a Gemini is that they are multi-talented. When they are busy they are multi-tasking. Thus able to accomplish alot in a small amount of time. This is what makes them such wonderful, faithful employees as long as the job remains challenging, and creative. The best thing you can do to help your Gemini employee is to praise their skills, and talent. Occasionally stroking goes a long way.

Geminians feel deeply, but may find it difficult to express. This can be frustrating for the marriage partners, as the only way to understand why they are unhappy is to be born telepathic. Good Luck?

For this busy sign to stay healthy, sleep is a must. Although they may go to bed early, once in awhile, (or they should), it is their minds that keep them awake. Prone to throat, lung, and chest infections it is a good idea for Geminians to get plenty of fresh air.

Because a Geminian is a twin, this post is limited to the Gemini personality description number one. Number two, three, four and five will have to be posted at another time. To much information all at once......hum........thats a Gemini.

I was digging in the basement the other day and came across this piece I wrote back in my college days. Thought you might enjoy it. A little piece of humor from way back. P.S. I will be posting other Zodiac Signs again soon.
____________________________

The Date

Finally he phones you up for that first date. You jump around the room in joy, as your roommates look at you in utter confusion. To add to your feelings of excitement you tell everyone including you dog that you won't be home tonight -- you have a date. So you go though that dating ritual. First the bath, then the moisturizing, and spraying your body down with that foreign mist. After hours of applying make-up, teasing your hair, and hunting out the best attire, you sit back with a glass of bubbly and a clock in your hand watching the minutes go by.

After what feels like hours the door bell rings, and your stomach turns as you walk to the door in your four-inch. There he stands wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He looks at you a little surprised. He tells you you're beautiful and waits for you to get your coat.

You walk down the sidewalk following him, to see a jacked up 4x4 before you. So your dream date gets in the driver's seat and slams the door, as you stand on the passenger side sizing up the two-foot jump you"ll have to make to get yourself into the damn thing. Trying to be a lady you throw one foot up into the truck, while your dress becomes spread-eagle, as he gets a glimpse of your underwear. Then with tremendous effort you throw up your other leg, lose you shoe, and pull yourself in. And so a half an hour already passed -- you wonder are you enjoying yourself yet?

During the drive you make small talk, as he pulls up to the Sports Bar, you dwell on an easier method of exit from this monster truck. You decide to throw your shoes down first then to jump with all your might. As you do so, your bare foot hits a rock, sending pain up your leg, and a run up your nylons. He walks in front of you, not waiting for you to get self-composed, and soon you are running behind him to catch up. You open the door for yourself and walk into a crowed sports bar. He walks straight up to the bar and orders himself a drink. You are really starting to feel like this guys a real jerk. He brings his drink to the table, and asks you what you would like? You reply a glass of white wine, so he motions to which counter you should go to for a white wine. Limping over to the counter you grab a five from your purse and go get your own drink. Sometime between his arrival at your place and here you wonder what you did wrong. Why is he being so rude?

As you return to the table, where now sit four other men, and no chair for you, you look directly at your date in disgust. His only comment, "Go grab yourself a chair."

So you sit amongst four men watching hockey, eating peanuts and drinking beer. The conversation during the evening is about cam-shafts, carburetors, and sports. Your date does not forget his small gestures of fondness. As he punches you in the arm a few times, and elbows you in the side.

On the way home, you find yourself fuming mad at the whole affair. Not once tonight did he open a door for you, buy you a drink, or make any attempt to treat you like a lady. Mad as hell, you decide it is time to make your feelings known. You scream at him for being so rude and inconsiderate, his lousy conversation, and rough manner. "I'm a Lady," you declare, "and I want respect and I want to be treated accordingly."

He looks at you in disbelieve. "Listen lady", he says," I went all out tonight to treat you with equality and respect. I never sexually harassed you, I never made you feel like the weaker sex, I didn't hurt your liberated pride by paying for your drinks or opening doors. You are an independent equal and I went way out of my way, to treat you accordingly, so don't tell me I was inconsiderate of your feelings. I spent three months researching womens rights, the liberation movement, and reading Cosmopolitan, so I could make this date politically correct, and you have the nerve to be so ungrateful. What the hell do you want from me?"

As you get out of the truck, your date slams the door in disgust and drives away. When you walk into the apartment the girls ask you about your date. Your only response. "Politically correct."

Truth

Although you can bury your head in the sand
The tides continue
As they roll gently upon the shore
The sand erodes
Slowly swiftly endlessly
Into the sea

You try to ignore
The emerging sound
As the sand
Slips though your toes
Tugging at you
Pulling you in

With endless effort
Clenching your toes
Holding onto those last few grains
As they slip away with the ever coming tide.

You rise to walk away
Reaching down
To brush away
The last few grains
Found between your toes.

You And I

Here I sit,
Upon this bench.
Alone.
In the park.
My shoes torn..
My body cold.
Nothing I have.
Nothing I own.
Perhaps my soul.
Then you come.
You sit.
I look at you and smile.
You turn away.
Your fine shoes.
Your leather coat.
I gesture with my hand.
You depart.
As though I may be a rabid dog.
But I know,
We Know.
You shall die just as I.

Crystal