I was added to an email subscription for notifications from Goddess Provisions, likely because I was subscribed to the Vegan Cuts snack box before they jacked up the price. I’m too lazy to unsubscribe, so I let the spam take over. Crystals are pretty, but they don’t actually do anything. You know this, right? They won’t cure the plague, fix a broken relationship, or keep bad shit from happening unless you use these crystals to make lasers that will destroy all of your mortal enemies.
This email was to inform me that Mercury is about to retrograde beginning on August 30th and they’re selling a kit to help people survive the occasion. Astrologists would like you to believe that the cosmic dust Mercury, Venus, and Mars (never have surgery while Mars is in retrograde or you will effin’ die! To death!) kick up while zooming past the Earth will cause all sorts of badness to happen until the retrograde period passes. There’s not much you can do besides hide out in your bunker like a naked mole rat and wait for it to end.
Or, you could be a person who isn’t a moron and keep living your cursed, shitty life normally. The Universe doesn’t give enough fucks, or any fucks at all, to worry about screwing with the little people of Earth, although I do enjoy blaming the Universe for everything that’s wrong in my life because we all need a scapegoat…or should I say spacegoat?
I’m a cancer and I fit the description of a cancer perfectly. I’m emotional, intuitive, empathic, and I love to brood. I’m an emotional-thinker, and I can also be a crab. The only people who strongly dislike me are Virgos (mother in-law, sister in-law, and ex-friend). The fact that my husband is a Scorpio and is allegedly one of my best astrological matches is pure coincidence. Astrology is fun, but it’s also complete bullshit (sorry).
I firmly believe that negative shit happening that’s outside of my control just happens because that’s life. There is no hidden meaning or reason. If I eat a bean burrito and end up in the hospital with an obstruction, burritos being insanely delicious is to blame. If my ovary randomly explodes, well, shit happens. I didn’t have any control over that. If my car gets rear-ended at a traffic light, it’s not because Mercury is in retrograde. It’s because the driver behind me is a fucking idiot and was trying to text while driving.
If I ever say my illness is a test or part of some divine plan, please whack me in the back of the head with a large, blunt object. Some people find comfort in faith, but not me. Would it be nice to believe that there’s more to my being than biological machinery and firing synapses? Am I slightly jealous of people with a structured belief in a higher power/entity? Certainly, but that’s just not my reality.