I don’t believe in Horoscopes. I want to. I think it would be awesome. I just can’t. But that doesn’t stop me from enjoying them. They’re like inspirational quotes, always pleasant and always seem to come from the mind of a groovy older Aunt.
Today mine says: Live out loud and lend your generosity of spirit. I have no idea what that means and living loudly does not fit my natural personality. Still, I appreciate the positive sentiment and hippy vibe.
Horoscopes are meant for the childlike part of what it means to be human. It’s a wishful community, assuming the good in people. Seek Truth. Don’t Indulge. Beware of Wolves. Balance Wins. Don’t Spend. Be Kind. It’s rather lovely when you think about it.
I mean, I’ve never come across a horoscope that read: You going to make out with an otherwise attached guy which will weigh heavily on your soul until it is replaced by another stupid error in judgement.
Sigh. No, I guess that would be cheating.
My June 1st Aquarius horoscope reads: Hiding somewhere comfy and far off anyone’s radar sounds divine, especially if you’re not in the mood to fake a smile. But your reclusive fantasies are kind of a shame, since you’re probably not as bad company as you suspect now. You only need to find the right companion, preferably someone who’s fine with you appearing and being exactly as you are — even if that means rocking bedhead and sporting your funniest-looking pajamas.
Holed up for most of the day with a fresh face, tossed hair and way too big overalls, with the jury still out on whether I want to join society … tomorrow’s horoscope reads remarkably like today.
If I lived in Australia right now, I’d for sure switch to a believer.