One of the three jobs I held the summer I worked on Cape Cod was at a deli. One of my coworkers was this older woman who did astrological charts on the side. As a favor, she did mine. I still have it. The paper’s a little yellowed and worn, but the information is still there. Sun sign: Aquarius. Rising sign: Libra. Et cetera.
Well, I got bored last night and took the “Are you a true Aquarius” tests. As an Aquarius, I’m a little unconventional anyway, right? That’s what Astrology says, at least.
Guess what, though? According to these tests, I’m not. An Aquarius that is.
So I called a friend, who was equally bored, and had her answer the questions for me based on what she knew of me.
Still not an Aquarius.
We did the other eleven tests, and guess which sign I’m true to. Aries. Well, at least they both start with “A.”
And it got me to thinking: How much do we assume about ourselves based on when we were born.
Now I know more people who follow their horoscope than don’t. If they don’t follow it, at least they know which sign they’re born under, and sort of proudly declare it when asked. From what I remember of the 70’s, or at least what I learned about the 70’s from Boogie Nights, what your sign is dictates the people with whom you are compatible.
So far as the compatibility goes, they say Aquarians are most compatible with Libras, Geminis, and other Aquarians (natch). But I don’t really know any Libras, all the Geminis I’ve ever known have been, frankly, a little duplicitous, and other Aquarians have always seemed a little too flaky for my tastes. In reality, all my friends are Leos and Sagittarians, which are most compatible with – wait for it – Arians. Hmm… Very curious.
With all the controversy over nature vs. nurture, should we take into account sun sign, too? I mean, how much can we really trust the stars? Especially when the whole thing is kind of subjective. And another point worth bringing up: How you see yourself is often different from how others see you.
Despite all reason and evidence to the contrary, over the years I’ve pulled out that chart whenever I’ve started dating someone special. Checked it over. Surreptitiously slipped into conversation the question: “So, when, exactly, were you born?” and “Which city and state was that again?” And, time and time again found a reason not to hold on to a guy or work at the relationship because fundamentally (at least according to my chart) we weren’t compatible. See? The stars say it’s not going to work out, so why bother? Ridiculous.
But you know? I think I’ll keep holding on to my little chart, the same one I’ve carried around with me for twenty years now, but I’m not going to hold on to it as tightly. I’m just sentimental that way. I’ll look at it, instead, as a suggestion of what I might have been had I been raised without any outside influences, had my life gone another way, had the forces of a thousand stars really been able to give me a map of the life I was supposed to live as dictated by how the planets were aligned on a particular day.