It’s good that I take Astrology with a grain of salt, because I was born under the sign of Pisces, and Pisces gets no respect.
Some astrologers back in Victorian times who weren’t as funny as they thought they were dubbed Pisces “the dust bin of the Zodiac,” and the name stuck. What they meant was that Pisces takes its characteristics from all the other signs. What we Pisceans hear, though, is something like: “You were born under the dust bin of the Zodiac, which means you are trash, unless someone threw you away by mistake. In that case, maybe some junkie will pick you out and sell you to someone.”
That’s kind of upsetting, when you think about it.
To add insult to insult, the symbol of our sign is that of two fish, bound together and swimming in opposite directions. Fish! All of the kick-ass symbols go to other signs: the ram; the bull; the lion; the scorpion. The crab, which is the symbol of the sign of Cancer, won’t take any shit from anyone who crosses it, even if it ends up as someone’s dinner. Even the signs that are left have symbols that evoke more thoughts of power than a couple of scaly aquatic floppers. Unless you are talking about piranhas or barracudas or sharks or big marlins, most people don’t think of fish as being kick-ass, especially if they are bound together and trying to go in different directions, which is a pretty asinine thing to do.
Not wanting to be equated with a used rag doll or two really stupid fish, I decided to consult everybody’s favorite popular Astrology book, Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs, to see if there was some hope. I lost count of all the copies I bought in my younger days. People kept stealing them from me. I had to find this on the internet.
As a Pisces I am charming, non-judgmental, imaginative, artistic and compassionate. Cool. Charming is good. Compassionate is good. So is non-judgmental. Imagination is a lot of fun. I can go for these. Thanks, Linda Goodman.
I am supposed to either have dainty feet or big, spread-out ones. Mine aren’t huge, but they are wide, and they get sore very easily. My eyes are supposed to be “… liquid, heavy-lidded, and full of strange lights.” They can also be “… slightly protruding, bulbous and extremely compelling.” Yeah. That pretty much describes my eyes, although I would think twice before calling them “compelling.” I have never been able to get people to do stuff for me by staring at them. I just make them nervous.
Big, awkward feet and buggy fish eyes. Chalk two up under “not particularly cool.”
I am also dreamy and impractical and, apparently, I never grew up. This one hits hard. I am a 60-ish woman. I spent most of my adult life as an opera singer, pursuing a career in which I worked hard and made it all the way to the middle. I am now trying to be a writer, which is a profession that is just as hard to break into as singing opera. Is this fun? Sometimes. Am I going to give it up anytime soon? Not in your life. I’m a Pisces.
I really did never grow up. Put me in an amusement park and I will be the first one to head for the bumper cars or the carousel. You’ll never get me on a roller coaster, but only because they scare the stuffing out of me. On the other hand, if you dare me to walk down the street singing “Lullaby of Broadway,” I will probably do it.
Impractical, daydream-prone and immature. Sigh! I’m glad that I never grew up, though. I have more fun that way, even if it embarrasses anyone who is with me when I decide to shake my booty in public.
I am also supposed to be psychic, have prophetic dreams, and somehow be in contact with the cosmos. I think I missed out on this one. Maybe I have the gift, but I don’t know it. I’ll have to experiment with a couple of predictions and see what happens — or doesn’t.