Septiles and Quintiles
Holing up involved taking out a payday loan. I should be okay financially until like Friday-ish. I am failing to do paid work because I feel like shit. If I were doing paid work, I could get a decent paycheck Saturday and be fine. As it is, I feel I am facing probable starvation and not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
So, trying to behave myself and problem solve, I post a question to MetaFilter asking how to promote my resume editing service and end up in a long ugly argument via email with a mod who feels that is borderline "self promotion," a big no-no on the site.
Oh, jesus fucking christ. This is the same site where someone accused me of "panhandling the internet" for having donate buttons on my websites. (They are gone now, thanks. I have tip jars these days, bitch.)
Yup: If you are poor, you aren't allowed to solve your damn problems. Just eat shit and pretend to like it and stop stinking up our communities with your objectionable presence.
So, basically that leaves poor people with what? The option to kill themselves so as to virtuously no longer be an offense to the well off?
Yeah, thanks you Good People.
Yes, all of that is relevant to this post about astrology. Astrology is part of why I am not trying to figure out how to actually kill my sorry ass this godawful fucking shitty weekend where my immediate future looks so goddamn bleak.
For starters, Mercury is stationing direct (tomorrow, I think, but it is always roughest for two to three days surrounding the event). There is always astrological static in the air whenever Mercury changes directions and it has a tendency to really kick my ass.
This should be no surprise given that I have a luminary and two planets in Gemini and my Virgo is occupied by the other luminary, two planets and a heavenly body formerly known as a planet. Gemini and Virgo are both ruled by Mercury.
So, yeah. Definitely Fuck You Michele time when Mercury changes directions.
Thus, I am trying hard to just weather the storm this weekend, both literally and figuratively. Just not having some life threatening immediate catastrophe is my big goal for this weekend.
But the other thing is this: I have an important quintile and a septile in my chart. And I am just a bit over 51.5 years old.
Quintiles are one fifth of the circle, thus they are exactly 72 degrees. Septiles are one seventh, which gives them some weird ass number like 51 degrees 25 minutes and 43 seconds. (Yes, I had to look that weird ass number up because I am rusty.)
These are both highly creative angles. The quintile is a stress aspect or hard angle. Thus, like oppositions and squares, it is high energy and often just not much fun.
In my chart, my Venus-Uranus-Pluto quintile describes the sexual abuse I endured as a child. It also describes my diagnosis just before age 36 with atypical Cystic Fibrosis.
Age thirty six is the half life for this 72 degree angle. This ass kicking, un-fun creative angle kicked off my long, hard journey of healing when the world says it cannot be done and all the social drama involved therein with so many people thinking I am a lying liar that lies, because everyone knows people with CF do not get well.
I am nearly well and I am 51.5 years old. So, that gentler creative aspect of the septile in my chart should be kicking in any goddamn minute now. Having lived through the hurricane force of the quintile influence, I look forward to the mystical, magical sweetness of my Moon-Neptune septile finally being activated.
When all is said and done, that is the real reason I am not suicidal this completely shitastic weekend: Because I have a septile in my chart and I expect that to be a saving grace that makes the rest of my life as quiet and pleasant as the previous years have been dramatic and unpleasant.