By Jeanne Fiorini
It’s been a rough several months for Librans. Maybe it has been rough for many others too, but astrologers seem to have sharpened their yellow highlighters on Librans’ charts of late. It might have something to do with Saturn or Pluto; all I know is that more than once I’ve wanted to get into bed and stay there, willing to lift the covers only after being thoroughly convinced that skies have cleared.
Part of the difficulty has been a very obvious gap in understanding (and compassion) between those in “regular jobs” and the reality of the self-employed. Not since the early days of reading professionally have I encountered such a level of incomprehension for what it takes to support oneself completely by one’s own hand.
Over the summer one of my BFF’s told me that, as an uninsured American, I was “part of the problem” with the health care system in this country.
…making it look for a moment there like BFF means beat feet fast.
And then there’s the “I love your work but I don’t want to pay for it” syndrome. Don’t let’s get going on that, since I don’t want this to turn into a full-blown Libran rant. I know a Libran rant when I see one (they happen in my head all the time) and it’s ugly.
There’s been lots of sighing and praying going on in recent months, but I have at last reached the WTF conclusion. You heard it first: I’m With The Fool and there’s no way around it.
Is there something more meaningful that I want to do? No. Can I picture myself having a “real” job? No. Am I young enough to move into a new career? No. Do I really want to give up on my relationship with The Fool? No.
Bravery or Bratitude?
Take your pick.
One could say that about The Fool, now that I think about it: that he’s part brave/part brat. He’s simply not conscious (separate) enough to make that definition and delineation within himself. Lucky for him.
I guess it all will have to be what it will be, since The Fool and I are in this together.
Through this marathon I’ve learned that it will be helpful in the future to remember that, when dry spells and rough patches linger as they are wont to do, it helps to have LOL: lots of liquor.
And the next time someone has something to say about my being a drain on society, they’ll be hearing “LMAO:” Leave my ass out [of it].
Lastly, I really must get one of those macramé bracelets with an uplifting acronym, something to keep with me always as a tangible reminder that all is well, no matter what the checkbook or the panic attack of the moment declares.
Mine will say WWMKGD.