Sign Language
Relinquish all hope of wallflower status this week. You're wearing reverse camouflage, the opposite of the background you're hoping to blend into. It's exactly the wrong color, vibe, scent or attitude; instead of disappearing into your environment, you stand out with shocking contrast. Alright, so this isn't exactly what you're in the mood for. You wish you could play things low-key, go unnoticed while you sort shit out. Unfortunately, you just can't. Might as well milk it. Attention is power, and it's remarkably versatile. There are lots of things you could do with the spotlight. Your best choice is clear: Use it while you got it, regardless of your mood.
Why do things quickly and efficiently when you could do them slowly, individually, by hand? No, that's not sarcasm; I'm serious. What's so great about speed and efficiency? Why rush? You're never going to run out of things to do, so the only reason I can think of to get shit done fast is if you don't enjoy it. But you actually get off on what you're up to at the moment. Take your time and soak up every minute. It's nice (and rare) to be present and productive at the same time, even if your productivity is minute. Fuck the next 11 tasks on your list. They'll wait.
Quit slouching. I can't tell if your deep slump is some kind of drug-induced hyper-relaxation, crushed self-esteem or simply embarrassment about being so great. Whatever-straighten up. Drooping like a wilted rose doesn't suit you. Stand upright, because you've got reason to, whether you feel it or not. At the very least hold your head high, because your friends look up to you, and they're not about to stop because of your bad mood. Before you make your amigos get on their knees just so they can keep admiring you, stand tall, Aries. Stand tall.
Don't light any matches. You might as well be in an airtight room full of farting cows. That's just how combustible your scene is at the moment. Certain situations could explode like the Hindenburg unless things are kept perfectly cool and controlled. This is no time to indulge in attacks of temper or fits of pique. Your life's as primed to blow as a leaky bag full of pure hydrogen. Tiptoe softly this week, speak quietly and avoid anything that might make sparks. You'll get through this potential crisis if you're careful and keep your cool. Lose it just a little and you'd better learn how to draw on your eyebrows; they'll be burned off in the resulting blast.
Redwood trees depend on periodic forest fires to reproduce. Hence, effective fire prevention unfortunately limits their reproductive opportunities. You, too, are suffering from a lack of fire. Fear of getting burned has had you tamping down sparks and minor blazes wherever they start up, but I wish you wouldn't. You've got dead growth that needs to be cleared away; a massive burn is the best and fastest way to make room for new growth. The core of you, like a redwood's trunk, is far more inferno-proof than you think. Let the fires grow. You need them.
When other signs feel blah-gray, gross, unenthused-they cure it by forcing themselves into action. That's not a good idea for Cancers, though. Pressuring yourself to feel something other than you do is enough to turn a colorless, washed-out mood into a black, churning depression. Don't make things too hard on yourself when lack of sunlight and warmth leaves you feeling flat and low this week. Let it be. Your mood will lift on its own, next week. Until then, be blah. It's not so bad; anyway, it's better than being wracked with despair and misery, isn't it?
Say no now so you can say yes later. Let me expound and explain: You have trouble saying no to bounty, decadence and luxury. That's not a bad thing; life's too short to deprive yourself needlessly. But please recognize that there are layers and layers to joy and satisfaction. The delights in front of you pale in comparison with those down the line that you might miss out on if you indulge yourself now. I'll present a ridiculously obvious example: Gorge on delicious, fat-filled cake now, become unhealthily obese, and miss out on amazing sex because hotties turn up their noses at you. Which is better: passion or a chunk of flour or sugar? Go ahead and keep saying yes to everything, except when a yes now might mean a no later.
Act. Play a version of yourself who actually enjoys chaos and knows how to surf it. If you can't rise out yourself, you're going to be miserable this week. There's no way you can impose order on the disorganization flooding into your life at the moment. Reveling in bedlam is out of character for you, yes, but it's also the key to enjoying your week. Go ahead and cling to one exhausted central part of yourself if you insist. But if you can slip free of traditional ideas about yourself, you'll be better off. Go ahead, try it: Tear shit down. It's more fun than you think.
Have you ever dreamt you achieved soul-melting union with someone, then woken up, suddenly utterly disappointed with the person who's actually sleeping next to you? This is the kind of experience you might face this week. However, I urge you to keep things in perspective before you act rashly. Your dream soulmate isn't plagued by bad breath, emotional baggage or mood swings-because he or she is made up. So is whatever other alternative you're contemplating. What you've actually got is much, much better, despite its/his/her obvious flaws. Stick with what you know, because abandoning that for a fantasy would be really, really dumb.
You're halfway through an amazing meal-one you've loudly complimented several times already-when you discover you've been eating monkey brains, human flesh or fried cockroaches. What do you do? It's one of the best things you've ever tasted, but now that you know what it is, you simply can't stomach it, let alone enjoy it. It's too bad, but you've got to push that plate away. You're about to have a revelation like this: What you thought was fantastic actually isn't great at all-it's horrible-under the surface. All those flavors you previously considered incredible now just make you ill. You've got no real choice: With regret, it's time to push back your plate, get up from the table and walk away.
It's galling when your dog gets more auditions than you do, or your girlfriend's hastily scrawled novel gets published while your opus languishes on the desks of uninterested editors, or your kid brother-whom you helped get the job-suddenly gets promoted past you. This is the kind of luck you're simply not used to other people benefiting from. Usually, you get the break, the deal, the easy in. Try not to gripe too much when the good fortune misses you-especially because it's likely to hit someone you love instead. Be happy for them, if you can. You know they've swallowed their envy to cheer you on. Now it's your turn to return the favor.
It's hard to be last in line when you've got as much energy and enthusiasm as you do now. Being relegated to the caboose would be fine for you at most times; it's often easier for you to get things done pulling strings from behind the scenes. But right now you want direct action, hands-on participation, and having to wait to get it doesn't sit well with you. Nevertheless, you're stuck back here. There's no way for the caboose to pass the locomotive on a single track. You're not helpless, however. Stoke up your own engines. You could take the lead, simply by going in the opposite direction. You could tear the train apart, it's true, but you could also take folks (and yourself) to places you've never been.