Showing posts with label Aquarians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aquarians. Show all posts

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Aquarians

While I am not a big believer in astrology, I remember a co-worker who was heavily into it many years ago, who was excited to draw up an astrological chart for me.  She got the information she needed and worked on it, then reported that she was very excited to show me her results.  I met with her and she explained all of her findings, most of which I couldn't understand at all, but the only thing I remember from that session is that in every critical point on the chart, "writing" came up.  Apparently it is written in the stars that I was to do something with writing, which is interesting because I come from a line of writers.  One of my great grandfathers founded the newspaper in Santa Rosa and was its chief columnist for many years.  And those old farmers who stayed behind in Iowa were copious letter writers to their offspring who moved to California.  

Everywhere on the family tree--at least my mother's side of it (the only side I really know) there are people who wrote, whether casually, like letters or journals, or people who did it professionally.
The two big things I have read about Aquarians is first, of course, their "untidiness."  I remember years ago when Walt's mother (a tidy Virgo) was talking to his sister on the phone.  She is far from untidy, but she is an Aquarian and her mother said that she had just read that Aquarians were likely the ones who never quite closed doors or drawers completely. At that moment, Alice looked around her and realized that all of her cupboards and drawers were just ever so slightly not quite closed completely.  Definitely one of my many failings!

But the other interesting thing I read sometime awhile back was that Aquarians tend to jump in whole-hog into activities, immerse themselves in them, and then just as quickly walk away.  I mentioned that to Peggy, an Aquarian, once and she scoffed that she never did that.  I reminded her that at one point she decided to take up rubber stamping as a craft, bought tons of stamps, ink pads and other paraphernalia and then one day just decided she was tired of it and gave it all away. She agreed with me (perhaps "friendships" work that way with her too...one day you're all close and then next day you're finished....)

I frequently relive old entries of this journal when I'm writing today's entry; I click on an entry under "Today in My History" to see what I was writing about x years ago.  And I find things I had forgotten...things I'd been heavily involved in, but are no longer a part of my life.  The other day it was a couple of entries about volunteering at the homeless shelter, which I did for about a year.  I enjoyed being there, enjoyed interacting with the men (we had no women in that shelter) trying to get their lives back together...or just have a place to sleep before they moved on, but I quit when the leadership changed and the new person in charge was so impossible to work with that I decided I didn't need to put myself through that every week.  I haven't been back, and only rarely think about it, when I see someone on the street with a sign asking for money.

Many, many old entries remind me of the dogs we fostered, especially the puppies and how involved I got in that, but don't do it any more (thank you, Polly).  Another phase of my life I've left behind.  I suppose some day Funny the World will be in that category too, but no plans for that in the foreseeable future.

In my never-ending attempt to "clean up" I came across one of those portable file boxes that was labeled "Scrapbooking."  Inside it is a treasure trove of background papers, stickers, die cuts, and pictures to use for embellishment that I collected when I started to make fancy scrapbooks.  I really got into the scrapbooking craze, like Peggy did with rubber stamps.  I made some really nice books I'm proud of, but it all came crashing down when David died, and especially after Paul died.  I had this box of photos that I was going to get into books and realized that I just couldn't make happy pages with happy pictures of people who were no longer here and whom I missed so much.  Fortunately that kind of coincided with the rise of the digital camera so it would soon have become a moot point anyway.  So this box of scrapbook supplies has been sitting here gathering dust for about 20 years now, since we are coming up on the 20th anniversary of David's death next month.

Now the new craze is pocket letters, which I am having so much fun creating.  I signed up to do one on Swap Bot with a music theme and really liked how it came out.  This one had a back page (most don't).  Most of the pockets contain little "gifts" behind the pictures, like a package of glitter, some stickers, etc.  In the pocket with the singers collage, I've included three Forever stamps -- one of Elvis, one of Sarah Vaughn, and one of Ray Charles.


I also did a book-related page that I like too.


I am learning my own style.  I won't be doing all the fancy frou frou that the real artists do, but I enjoy what I'm doing and how I'm doing it.  

With all the scrapbooking stuff I found in that old box, I have a whole new supply of things to use for other pocket letters, two of which I am working on now.  I intend to enjoy this new craft as much as I can until the interest wanes and I move on to something else.
It's what Aquarians do.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

It's Exhausting to be Obsessive

I don't necessarily believe in astrology but there are just some things you can't deny. Virgos are supposed to be neat and tidy and every Virgo I've met is. Along with the many, many good traits of Aquarians, they supposedly get completely involved in projects or hobbies or whatever, and then one day they are finished with that project and move on to something else.

I told that to Peggy (also an Aquarian) once and she scoffed. "I never do that," she said, until I reminded her that she had told me about her involvement with stamping, how she had bought all of the stamping equipment she could and then decided one day she wasn't interested in it any more.

Boy, is it true for me. I can think of a host of things that were my passion over the years. I remember my "plant years." Claiming that I have a brown thumb, I never met a house plant I couldn't kill. But then one day a house plant someone gave me didn't die, so I decided to try another one. In short order I had a veritable jungle in my living room and plants hanging all over the house.

The Davis water isn't good for house plants, so I carried water from Sacramento whenever we visited someone there and used distilled water when we didn't. I bought plant food. I bought macramé hangers. I talked to my plants. I was totally into plants.

Then one day I stood in the living room, looked at this jungle that had completely taken over my life and said to them: I don't care about you any more. You can all just die. And they did. One by one, I hauled them out to the garbage as they began to wilt or turn brown.

My days as an indoor gardener were over.

So many other hobbies went that way. I have a huge stash of scrapbooking material that I will never use for scrapbooking because the more involved I got with the internet, the less I was doing with scrapbook (the project also became painful after David died).

During my cake decorating period, I bought every shaped pan I could afford, all the fancy tips and lots and lots of special equipment. Then one day I just didn't want to do it any more. I still do, rarely, but dust is gathering on all that equipment.

When I took up biking, I bought a fancy bike and all sorts of fancy equipment--speedometer, mileage counter, fancy basket and I can't remember what else. True, it was my accident which took me out of biking prematurely, but I would have eventually tired of that too.

We had 70 foreigners living with us from 14 countries over 10 years and one day I just decided I was finished with it.

I was a LaLeche League leader for 7 years, helping new mothers learn how to breastfeed. I was the newsletter editor, I was on the state board, I helped organize a convention. Then I remember the day so clearly. I was leading a meeting about getting started at nursing. I looked around the room and thought to myself "if I have to hear about one more pair of sore nipples, I'm going to scream!" Fortunately I had trained several other leaders and that was the last meeting I ever led.

I even find that I am loving my SPCA vacation. I feel guilty when I get pleas for foster homes, even briefly, but there are nearly 50 names on the mailing list that comes around and I resist the temptation to take on another foster when we are all, us and the dogs, enjoying this break (of course, I will always say yes to orphans).

I see myself doing the same thing with the Compassion kids. I am so involved with Compassion right now, becoming involved in the sponsoring community, enjoying getting to know people. I know that sooner or later this will pass -- I hope not for a long time, because I love the kids, but I know that there will come a day when I will reach my limit.

I don't remember what I saw two days ago or where I saw it. It was something about pen pals. Innocently I clicked on a link. It was like Dorothy opening the door to the Munchkin land. All sorts of web sites and publications and lists began tumbling out, one more interesting than another. I discovered that there were still people who cherish letters that you send in an envelope to someone else. It's encouraging to find out how many of them are people under the age of 30.

"I'll just check one more," I'd say to myself and next thing I know I'd be looking through five more lists. There are slim pickings for older folks who enjoy writing. In fact I found I was reading the "old guys" listings for people younger than my children. I had downloaded five issues of Sandbook, a magazine for people who want to write to pen pals. Each issue is about 40 pages long.

Ultimately I sent out eleven letters, heard back from (so far) four who would like to be pen pals. I set up several folders for incoming and outgoing letters, and wrote four letters, each of which is 4 full typewritten pages long (with no cutting and pasting). I have a new "pen pal" folder in my bookmarks and have a host of new sites I want to check out.

I recognize the behavior pattern. I wonder how long this will last before I stand here looking at my computer screaming "I don't care about you any more...you can all die!) (I hope not for a very long time.)