Since, ultimately, I’m responsible for my own well-being, my dubious mental health and so forth, I decided to change my attitude. I left. Tried fishing but it was just too cold, really, to sit by the edge of the lake. I took a walk, plugged in the iPod, which, according to some, means I’m cooler so I can have tattoos, shave my head, and wear super-baggy trousers. Not likely. At least, not yet. Maybe I’ll get my tongue pierced? I hear it doesn’t really hurt.
Some of The Misfits helped turn a three-mile into a five-mile, along with the soundtrack to Repo Man. I spent 20 minutes on the phone, outside a coffee shop, making arrangements for the upcoming holiday.
Eventually, as I was really just headed to Jo’s, I stopped at Threadgill’s for a late lunch. As a companion, I bought a copy of the Houston Chronicle.
Above the fold:
In banner headlines? Two stories. One, gas drops below $2 per gallon. That’s news, I guess, especially in oil-dependent Houston. But the other story? A high-school coach replaced his squad with “college-age” players. Yeah, football is a serious pastime.
5-star astrology:
This is where I get going, either skip it, or prepare for a philosophical discussion about free-will versus determinism. How astrology works: the planets incline. The stars, the moon, all that stuff? It lends an indication about energy, that nebulous sensation, that “feeling” about something. The stars, the planets, the moon, sun and so on, they don’t make anything happen – it’s what you do with “what the good lord givved yew.”
I was, at one time motivated – then sorely rebuked – by a certain cosmic breakfast pastry – our columns appeared side-by-side, and he took none to kindly to my (Texas-friendly) suggestion that I was like his southern cousin.
(What do you expect from Yankees anyway? A little social lubricant is always welcome – ask the sexiest man in the world about Texas charm. And goats.)
That astrologer, he rated each day from 1 to 10. “Going out? It’s 5, staying in, it’s a 7.” And so on. Mostly based on the moon’s position, as a daily must be, but it seemed like no day really sucked, nothing was ever below a 5. Curious. If I were a Sagittarius with a certain arrangement right now? I’d rate it about a negative 2. But for another Sagittarius, like myself? Hell yeah, today started at 1, but shot up 8 by mid-afternoon – because I made it happen.
That’s the clue. The horoscope column in the Houston paper – appropriately by the funnies, which I read first – rates the days with stars. One to five stars. Sagittarius was three yesterday. No, mine started at 1 and become a stunning 7 because I took some action.
While I was walking, I thought about this some more. I remember a client getting all “Kramer made it happen – my new job” on me because I suggested she get off her ass and look for a new position. To be honest, there was a stellar hint that if she would get up, an opportunity would present itself. Which it did. I didn’t make anything happen. She took some action.
Like a good fishing guide, you know, “Throw it over there, see what happens.” Fish on!
There’s exactly two Capricorns and one Virgo, who, no matter what I write, will always see the glass as a nearly empty. But other than them? The point is to learn how to cope with what the planets deal out.
Life’s a poker game. How you play the hand you were dealt? That’s up to you.
As the Grateful Dead sing, “Sometimes the cards ain’t worth a dime if you don’t lay them down…”
If a clever person is one who can solve a problem, then a wise person is one who can avoid that problem. Which is what I’m all about, only I prefer to think of it as me be aggressively lazy.
I felt much better after a long walk and fresh air. Would’ve felt even better if I was catching some fish, but I was happy with punk music and collard greens. The cold weather means shoes, and the boots gave me a blister, as I’m not used to wearing shoes again. But I wasn’t bothered by the blisters, just happy I turned it into a five star day.
Shove them stars of yours someplace where it, oh, never mind.
