Quatre-vingt dix-neuf.

All right. The next post will be #100 for me, and I'm working on something beautiful for it. But first, I have to get something off my chest.

I'm a Libra.

Doesn't sound like a big revelation, does it? Well, you're right -- it's not. Here's the wikipedia analysis:

"Individuals born under this sign are thought to have a beautiful, pleasant, charming, charismatic, fair, idealistic, refined, and self-sufficient character, but one which is also prone to flirtatiousness, frivolity, indecision, greed, anger, envy, excessive pride, and isolation."

Gee, what do you know. It's me. It's also my brother (Pisces), my first boss (Sagittarius), and Matt Damon (...Libra).

Whoops. Anyway, my point is an oft-made one: Horoscopes describe people so generally and so favourably that we always manage to see at least a little bit of ourselves in it. I refute it all on an intellectual basis, but something in me still hangs on to it. Either vanity or attachment, I'm not sure which. (Likely vanity: learning I was born in the Year of the Fire Dragon hasn't made me very humble.)

I think it's because we're all caught in the opposing forces of culture. I want to be recognised as an individual, yet I want to belong to a group... and "I don't believe in that" doesn't really count as a group.

If only there was some way to reroute our need to follow the stars into something that still gave us a place in society, but was a little more relevant. A little more accurate. And most importantly, something with a little bit of choice included in the deal. After all, I haven't even gotten into the "free will" discussion yet.

If only...

Any guesses to what'll be in post #100 this Friday?

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About The Author

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Canadian explorer. Chemist by training, biologist by nature. Long-time supporter and participant in National Novel Writing Month. Known as "Aquadeo" in most Internet circles. Also known as "that guy with the pants" to people who have seen me in certain pants.