All about me

or a short dip in the ego pool

Back on Mother's Day, a Sunday, of the American Bicentennial, under the sign of Taurus, under a waxing crescent hare moon, in the year of the dragon of the element of fire, I was born. That is why I don't pay too much attention to signs and portents; 'cause even if they were true, there are so many signs in competition to rule my life that I'm pretty sure they cancel each other out. Example; according to Strindberg, a real nutcase disguised as a distinguished playwright, a Sunday child is supernatural and has witchy sight, but a Taurus is supposed to be grounded and focused on the material world. A Taurus is a feminine sign, falling as it does under the dominion of Venus, but in contrast a dragon is a very masculine sign, symbolic of "yang", opposing the feminine "yin." This particular dragon sign is of elemental fire, representing furious energy and mercurial emotion, which again contrasts the solid immutability of the Bull. If these guys really do exert influence, I thinks that these signs do short circuit each other, leaving me my own free will.