I'm the ultimate Libra, which means that I am (was) a terrific People Pleaser-- in my younger days anyway. Most post-menopausal women don't give a rats ass what anyone thinks, which is wonderful. Aging is very liberating. But that doesn't mean that there isn't a crumb or a shadow of that People Pleaser hiding somewhere in the dark corners of me. It raises its ugly cloying little head once in a while, but I try to beat it back into submission.
For instance, I love this, people who are new to witchcraft and the whole thing, will write me and say, "I'd love to know where to start, can you help me-- can you teach me-- can you give me some pointers-- can you mentor me--" Ummm-- no. I don't have time to mentor anyone. But the weird thing was that I would give them a list of books they could start with but-- AND HERE IS THAT LIBRA THING-- I thought it would be very egotistical and conceited to tell them to start with My Books.
This happened several times, until I stopped, and said, "Wait a minute!! What's not right with this picture?"
"Start with my books!"...that felt good.
Of course, this isn't the information they wanted anyway, a few of these people were actually looking for someone to learn for them, or for someone to spend a great deal of time writing things out, explaining things, cataloguing things, feeding the information to them in a way they could digest it-- and hey, I already did this-- it's called My Books. (I love this.)
I use to think that when I was out and about in public, if I were standing in line or something with someone who obviously disapproved of me, or was just being uppity and stereotypically mid-western'ish, it was my duty-- MY LIBRA DUTY-- to change their minds, to make them like me. How crazy! How much time and energy did I waste in 56 years making an effort to get some asshole to smile.
My husband is so opposite (Scorpio-- holy crap). Scorpio will not mess with people who give weird pucker-mouthed I-don't-like-you-I-am-superior-to-you looks. A Scorpio will look them right in the eye and say, "What the fuck's your problem?" I love this too-- they are always jolted into reality, caught off guard, shocked. It rattles their little pristine world and reminds them that the universe is full of diversity, and some of this diversity may wind up in their face if they don't cut out the holier-than-thou act.
I'm kind of lazy (LIBRA), but I can work my ass off when it counts. So this kind of all gets balanced out in the end. I'm doing pretty good here (she sez as she eyes the counter full of dirty dishes).
I'm spacey.
I'm forgetful.
I'm a hoarder of cats.
I talk to plants.
I hate to cook.
I've never understood why, once you've thoroughly dusted and cleaned a room, it wouldn't stay that way forever. It's suppose to. This should be a universal unwritten rule.
I don't do laundry-- grudgingly my own, when necessity stands up on its hind legs and howls. And surprisingly, I do Joe's laundry-- I generally don't do any man's laundry, they're on their own. Doing a man's laundry for 30 years would be like having a child who never learned to do their own laundry. Blech, who would want that? (It tickles Joe that I do his, which I find funny.)
If I'm lonely in the middle of the night, I will wake my husband up to talk to me (never mind that he works 10 hour days welding). I've also been known to do this if he's trying to catch a nap during the day. Maybe this is a sub-conscious retaliation for getting up at 2am to fix him something to eat when he gets home from work, I'm not sure, I'm still working on the logic of this.
I eat chocolate candy bars for breakfast.
Once in a while, I will drink out of the orange juice jug, or those large liters of pop and sit it back in the fridge, guiltily wiping my mouth with the back of my hand-- I know, this is rather disgusting, isn't it.
Many moons ago, I got caught standing in the kitchen eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream at 7 o'clock in the morning. I looked down, and there was the little bugger, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, all pink in Dr. Denton's. I hushed the little intruder back to bed, swearing her to secrecy for life.
But I'm not so bad...really.
