Things are out of order
My stars are misaligned
My planets are in retrograde

My psychic powers aren't working hard enough
or maybe too hard

It's effecting my self esteem
and my little dog

I need a prophet.

Virgo and Virgo Ascendant: All Mercury retrograde cycles particularly affect you in terms of your own body language and personal manner (you may feel that others misunderstand you)

In general, Mercury rules thinking and perception, processing and disseminating information and all means of communication, commerce, education and transportation. By extension, Mercury rules people who work in these areas, especially people who work with their minds or their wits: writers and orators, commentators and critics, gossips and spin doctors, teachers, travellers, tricksters and thieves.

Mercury retrograde gives rise to personal misunderstandings; flawed, disrupted, or delayed communications, negotiations and trade; glitches and breakdowns with phones, computers, cars, buses, and trains. And all of these problems usually arise because some crucial piece of information, or component, has gone astray, or awry.

It is therefore not wise to make important decisions while Mercury is retrograde, since it is very likely that these decisions will be clouded by misinformation, poor communication and careless thinking. Mercury is all about mental clarity and the power of the mind, so when Mercury is retrograde, these intellectual characteristics tend to be less acute than usual, as the critical faculties are dimmed. Make sure you pay attention to the small print!

Mon, Jan 28-Mon, Mar 10

This could explain alot for me in the last few weeks, and a few other Virgos I know.

Sorry, it seems I will be out of order until March 10.

Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, that you are dreadfully like other people.
- James Russell Lowell

I had a stressful weekend. (waaaa!)

I decided to get new tires, been needing them forever. On my way to get the tires I was in an accident. Wow! It was really scary! I've been in three accidents to speak of now. (Two in the past 6 months!) This one was scary #2 damange #3. I was driving down 360 and I looked down for a second- my car was out of alignment from the previous accident and I drifted into the next lane and bumped the back of the car in the next lane. It was totally my fault. She moved over and pulled off. I freaked out and started swearving, freaked out swearving is very bad on the highway. It's all in slow motion. I knew I was freaked out swearving, but I couldn't stop myself. I spun out, hit the retaining wall and stopped, facing oncoming traffic. (I was on the shoulder.)

A few people stopped to ask if I needed an ambulence. I wasn't hurt, Buzz didn't even fall off the seat. I told them I was fine and to go check on the people in the other car. They were fine too. In this accident, as with accident #1 scary /#1 damage I feel really blessed. It could have been a million times worse. I feel like God has protected me many times, and in these two times specifically it was like a physical presence beside me and keeping me calm and safe, and my little dog too!

Jesus loves me this I know.

Both cars were drivable, the police didn't even come. Of course, since I have all the parts for the body of my car except one, that one I don't have was the part damaged. The same dang fender I screwed up last time!

I decided to get the tires any way. Since I was in the area I decided to call pk. I never saved her name in my new phone, so I started scrolling through to find her number. I rememberd thinking that her number was a really easy one to remember, so I should recognize it when I scrolled thought the old numbers. I found a number that had a lot of 7s in it. I thought, "This must be it." So I called it. That was not it. That was the Tax Man. He let it go to voice mail. I did not leave a message.

I hung up.
I then proceeded to say some bad words.
Then I found pk's real number, which happens to have a lot of 9s in it, and saved her name to my phone.

I'm hoping that he just missed the call didn't know it was me and is simply not one of those curious monkeys who has to call back missed calls whether he knows the number or not.

Or- he knew it was me and scorned my existance as he ignored the call.

Either way, fine by me- I think if he would have answered I might have had another accident.

I wonder if Big Brother is still watching?

I watched a movie called "Children of Men" last weekend. Disappointing. I was lead to believe it had Gillian Anderson in it- really it had Julianne Moore- wrong red-head.
Some of the "standout" moments seemed too forced to me. It was about a future when women can no longer have babies. Well, with a title like "Children of Men" I was hoping for some kind of reproductive breakthough, but there were not children of men, there was one child, and that was of a woman. It should have been called, "Child of Woman- without Gillian Anderson."

Then I watched "Equilibrium." It was about a future where people are not allowed to have feelings. Well, heck, that made me feel angry. You can't have a human society with out feelings. We would all be apathetic and lay around and do nothing and all starve as we lay in our own filth.
Besides, the characters who weren't supposed to be having feelings were having feelings all the time. Anxiety, Ambition, Agression, isn't Apathy a feeling? Maybe it's a state. Those are just some of the 'A' feelings- it went on and on. I'm sure it would have been better if described in a book. Maybe "Children of Men" would have too.

Maybe my life would be better if described in a book.

"Deo Vindice"
Ironic.
So said the South in "The War of Northern Agression."
And I'm a Yankee.

May the LORD make his face shine upon you Anonyme!

"The next day an evil spirit from God came forcefully upon Saul." I Samual 18:10

This I also found strangely comforting.

Pudding called this morning to rant about seeing his character evoked on my blog-smart ass. He threatened to sic his gimpy little dog on me if I mentioned his name. I hardly ever put real names here, not to save myself from gimpy dogs or other threats intended to intimidate me, but for respect. And I also don’t write things about people that I don’t want them to read. That would be dumb on the internet now wouldn’t it?

I used a full name once- just because it seemed right, and that was not met with threats, but an answer to an old question and a kind word. I’m glad I did that.

Pudding said the lesson here, is don’t tell people that I’ve written about them. I say, more likely is, don’t assume people will read what has been written correctly, or with any sense of humor about it.

I’ve been told and I suppose it’s true that I run through the decision making process and my range of emotions right quick. Well, I have read half of Blink to my credit. Some people think this is a bad thing, (my quick processes, not reading Blink) like I haven’t really thought things out and/or I haven’t experienced enough of an emotion. I say not bad, just different, get over it.

I think I’ve recovered from my sadness. It was more than my promised one minute of mourning. I’ve smoothed the wrinkles out of my carpet, and I’m almost feeling back to my white-plastic- ball-with-a-yellow-centered-daisy self. I shall be more cautious.

As the feminists do not sing- Onward Christian Soldier!

I’m feeling sick. I could get ulcers from all this!

Well, probably not- about once or twice a year I work myself up into a big stress ball. Usually it happens in September, this must be my alternative time this year.

I had a dream last night. It was somewhat comforting. In the dream I talked to my stressor and while there was no forgiveness, there was at least civility.

I believe in dreams- they show what we want, what we expect, what we’ve been thinking about before we go to sleep, and sometimes, what God wants us to know.

I know if most people heard, “God told me xyz in a dream” they would think, “Okay loony-tune.” But I believe it, it can be.

I'm still sad. I've talked to a few people about it. A girl friend supported me and said the other was wrong. A guy friend said, the other was wrong, but maybe not as wrong as I had thought.

It's good to get other opinions.

I understand a little.

Still I'm sad to think that somebody out there misunderstood me so much, and as a result believes that I'm such a bad person.

So, I acted badly, but not intentionally. Most people don't understand this, but I believe in apologizing not only for things you have done wrong, but for things that other perceived wrongly. I made someone feel bad. Now I feel bad for doing that.

Under my hard candy coating- I've very sensitive,
and sad.

I don't even think ice-cream will help.

I feel really sad. It seems I’ve done something terrible and I don’t get to explain or apologize. I’ve been accused of defamation. To say the least I suppose- insult to the point of calling in lawyers and telling me I’m crazy and mean and inconsiderate.

I feel bad because I don’t understand how things went so wrong. I feel angry because I asked to please let me explain myself, but this person’s anger and hurt was so deep that wasn’t possible. I wasn’t even given a change to apologize.

I feel betrayed because although this person claimed to be a Christian, there was no charity in the reaction I was given. I understand that this person believed I have not displayed charity by my actions either, but communications are often misunderstood, and to give an opportunity to explain, apologize and forgive (if not forget) is a basic tenet of my belief system.

I’m sorry. I never intended to hurt or insult you.

This kind of misunderstanding happened to me once before. Then there was far more involved than what I understood at the time. It was bitter for me, but eventually the other person accepted my apology and also apologized. The break never healed completely, but we have no ill feelings about one another any more. That is Christianity, if not in perfection, than acted out in our own human, imperfect imitation of Christ.

I’m not perfect. Communication is not perfect. Interpretation is not perfect.

We never understand as much as we think we understand.

I told a few people about Fat Sal. What brings Fat Sal up? My intense dislike for mustaches. I suppose Fat Sal is a part of my childhood. Everyone has their stories, I have Fat Sal. I have Fat Pam too, but she's another story all together.

Again, looked in the archives, did find one mention of Fat Sal, but not by name, only be reputation.

Fat Sal the molester- why I don’t like men with mustaches:

by Shannon D. Peterson.

I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood. I mean, it wasn’t inner city Chicago tenement slums, but it wasn’t the suburbs either. One day my friend and I were standing on the sidewalk when we saw a beat up old Caddy rolling our way. Maroon- grey primer, mid seventies model with pointy corners and enough room in the trunk for a peck or two of kidnapped, molested children. We were about 8 years old.

Our discussion on whether or not to draw the hopscotch board on that stretch of sidewalk stopped as that Caddie crouched and crawled toward us. The prey could smell the predator. We looked at each other, curious as to how the next moments would unfold. We knew every car in the project- we knew there was no reason for strangers to come through. We knew, although I doubt we could have expressed it, that we were being stalked.

We were impetuous children- reckless as we took in all the details. The car was much like all the other cars in the lots around us. Standard issue low income- beat up and noisy. The man was slovenly, fat, dirty and greasy. His moustache drooped flaccidly over his lip.

“What’re your names?”
“Jenny.” I lied
My friend became Shelly.
“You girls want to go for a ride? Get some ice cream?”
“No.”

He didn’t get out of the car, but he was suddenly too close.
How fast can a fat man move?

We turned and ran to the park. Screaming and laughing at the swings, we forgot about the fat man and the car as soon as we stopped telling each other how gross he was, and giggling over our new names.

That night my mom asked me what we had done all day. I told her about the man who talked to us. She said, “What is I big red car?”
I said, “Yes.”
She asked, “What it a big fat man?”
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “Did he have a moustache?”
I said, “Yeah!” (How do moms know everything?!)

She said, “That’s Fat Sal. Don’t ever talk to him again, and tell your friends to never talk to him. He’s a child molester.”
I said, “Oh, okay.”

Only later did I wonder why I accepted that explanation without question at 8 years old. Why my mother gave it to an 8 year old and why my mother knew exactly who I was talking about when I said “a man talked to me” are other questions I later considered.

Japanese Toilet Training for Kids (English Subtitled)

happy wee-wee! happy poo-poo!

I feel like I've written about this before, but I can't find any reference in my archives,
so here I go again, stop reading if you’ve already heard about this.

There is a cologne that really affects more than just my sense of smell, you know what I mean? I don’t know what it is called. I first started noticing it at the end of high school. My high school boyfriend wore it. It smells clean, like soap, but better. I smell it once every few months, and I just smelled it again a few weeks ago.

I was at school and I walked down the stairwell and stopped at the foot of the stairs and started looking around- I could smell it. I looked around the corner and out the door, but it was only the cologne left, not the man.

I’m not sure why I always look for the man who is wearing it. The time before that, I smelled it at the grocery store. I walked past the frozen food isle and I smelled it. I immediately turned my cart around thinking, “Maybe I need some frozen food after all.” When I pinpointed the man with the cologne I realized he was a middle aged, paunchy, balding man wearing khaki shorts and black knee socks. To top off his look he also had blue and orange tattooed flames peeking out from between his shorts and his socks.

Unbelievably, I stood there innocently looking at the fish sticks (which I would never buy in a million years) and taking deep breaths for a few more seconds before he moved on. I thought about following him- but I came to my senses in time to go on about my own grocery shopping business.

Here is what I think about this cologne:

It must be semi-popular as it has been in production all these years.
It must be moderately expensive. If it were cheap I think I would smell it on more people, If it were crazy expensive I don’t think my high school boyfriend or tattooed-knee-guy would be wearing it.
It smells clean.
When I smell it I automatically start following the smell.

Imagine the power a man I was actually attracted to would have wearing that cologne.

Maybe its better I don’t know the name of it. It could get me in trouble.

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-fg-christian5feb05,1,2056156.story

I lived in Islamabad for almost a year. I saw these slums at a distance, but I was told they were too dangerous to enter alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. They were in every way different from the rest of the capital city. I lived in an enormous marble house near a mosque and a market, where many of the affluent Muslim citizens of the city resided. In contrast the Muslim, Afghan refugees I worked with lived in concrete apartment buildings with tiny, dingy apartments. In even greater contrast the Pakistani Christians- people I am called to care for, they lived in tents and shacks made of cardboard and corrugated metal sheets. They were squatters in their homeland.

In the middle of one group's suffering it's easy to forget another group's long term issues and persecution. My eyes were certainly taken off my brothers and sisters. I regret that more fully now.