My birthday is smack in the middle of June. That makes me a Gemini—barely. Not that I believe in any of that astrology stuff, but I did live in China for almost five years and I at least know which animal I am.
I’d tell you which one, but then I’d have to kill you. In self defense, of course, because revealing my birthday and birth year—even indirectly with flowery description and the Chinese zodiac—yeah, not the best idea. At the very least, if you’re dying of curiosity—and, again, you believe in this stuff—maybe do a reread of my blog posts and compare with zodiac descriptions to try and figure it out.
Will it be accurate? I’ve no clue.
But there was a point to all of this, believe it or not. Because I’m not just going to bring up a topic, say I don’t put any faith in said topic’s legitimacy, and then completely move on to something entirely unrelated. Well, I might. But not today.
Some people spend all their time checking their horoscopes. Recently, a lot of people also waste time checking the weather, complaining about it, and checking the weather again. My fellow students have been known to lose hours to NYU Secrets and Humans of New York. I, on the other hand, simply stick to Buzzfeed.
If you’re skeptical, know that it’s okay to be wrong sometimes. I mean, how could I not spend inordinate amounts of time perusing a website—or app, in my case—which uses Disney gifs to explain that “The Lion King Eerily Predicted the Great Dress Debate.”
Which, by the way, I hate. So. Much. The dress debate. Not The Lion King. But back to Buzzfeed.
This magical place can also tell me “Which Guy From Friends is Your Soulmate?” just by answering seven questions expressed with pictures. Golden, I tell you.
Buzzfeed is also great because its people dig through Reddit and Tumblr like pros so I can appreciate the cleverness of Tumblr users without descending into that all-consuming space of total internet darkness. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The Tumblr logo is dark blue—not black—anyway.
The point, of all of the above really, is this: “16 Times Tumblr Had This Astrology Thing on Lock.” This works for me because Buzzfeed likes its lists and I happen to like number 10 which exists for “when you need a little pick-me-up.”
I’ll reiterate that I don’t place any belief in horoscopes. That doesn’t mean I don’t find it often hilarious to read them anyway. Which is why I stumbled across this post on Buzzfeed. And why I made it all the way through to the 10th one, even when 5-7 started getting really weird. To give credit where credit is due, I got this from Buzzfeed, which found it on Tumblr, where the original post was written by wildfairys.
I don’t know this person or their life, but I will say this: they have a way with words. And it’s beautiful.
I’ll also say this: I’m going to assume that this person is a female and will henceforth use “she” when describing her work.
All that to say that she writes well, specifically when about feelings you associate with your sign. Curious, I did a little more “research” (I creeped on her Tumblr), and it turns out she likes making lists almost as much as the people over at Buzzfeed. And these lists of hers, they really make you think—you know?
As I said, I’m a Gemini; according to this writer, that elicits “the scent that follows after you blow out a candle, how handwriting is like a voice, your first visit to a haunted house, a rigid spine, the sound of crunching leaves, church bells.” Did I not say this is beautiful?
This is where the skepticism surrounding astrology comes in thought, because I hate haunted houses so I don’t exactly know how I feel about being even somewhat associated with one. “How handwriting is like a voice” though? You’ve got to admit…That’s some powerful stuff. Also, of course there is a scent that follows after the death of a candle’s flame! Like, why wouldn’t there be? But actually thinking about it is kind of mind-blowing. Or comforting. Or maybe equal parts of both.
Obviously I had to read the other ones and some things stuck out to me. Like “boiling water” for an Aries or “city life at night…[and] a one-way ticket” for a Leo. Virgos get “pacing & the click clack of high heels.” For Libras it’s a lot of things, but also “outstretched palms in the wrong direction.” Like, what? I totally did not try to replicate this with my own palms because I don’t even have any idea what she’s saying here but still love the imagery.
I’m skipping some—clearly. Everything she writes here produces all the feels, but not all of them speak to me, you know?
But one that does? “The first breath after a panic attack.” I’ve only had one of those. Ever. But I know what that state is like and I know the overwhelming relief of taking a breath right after one. Just like I try to get as much sleep as possible, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes understand the wistful appeal of “the dreamy state when you’re running on no sleep.” Capricorns get apparently get both of these, but I don’t believe in any of it, so I’m taking them for myself.
I said this isn’t her only list, and it’s not. How about one titled “numbers + you” and prompted by a challenge to “write sensory descriptions that come to mind when you focus on numbers from 1 through to 10”? Because, why not? Right?
Can we also stop for a moment to contemplate what one would even write in response to that? “Sorry, no, my senses are my own and I can’t seem to communicate them to my brain, let alone to other people. And in writing of all things.” Yep. Sounds about right.
I kid. Well, maybe just a little. If you think about this long enough, it’s really no different than Julie Andrews singing “My Favorite Things” in the Sound of Music. “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” sounds pretty similar to me. And “brown paper packages tied up with string”? I mean, come on! If that doesn’t tickle your soul, I feel like I’ll have to unleash Harry Potter on you. It’s poetry, I tell you.
Well now I’m starting to sound like my cousin. I love her and she’ll be my maid-of-honor when I get married, but she’s definitely a little more whimsical than me (read: a lot). So if you’re into author dedications and all that, I guess you could say that this post is for her. Speaking of which, go watch “How to Love Your Introvert” on YouTube. Wait until he says “baby” and then prepare to melt into a puddle of feelings. You can thank said cousin for that one.
Anyway, before getting too completely sidetracked, back to Ms. wildfairys. Each number has multiple sensory descriptions, but I think I’ll challenge myself and only pick one. Besides, if you’re reading this, you have the internet. If you have the internet, you can go read the whole thing for yourself. I’ll even make it easier for you and hyperlink it. Just for you.
Here goes nothing.
One: “Trying to lose your shadow.” (Guys, it’s just the first one and I’m already crying because I want to include everything.)
Two: “The burn in the back of your throat.” (Also, “goose bumps on your thighs.” Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.)
Three: “Biting your nails all the way down.”
Four: “Missed chances, rotted wood.” (I know there’s a comma there, but for some reason these two go together for me.)
Five: “Screaming from excitement instead of fear.”
(It occurs to me half way through that some of these aren’t sensory in the least. But I’m not sure I care. Can you really blame me?)
Six: “The moment your stomach drops when you’re on a roller coaster.”
Seven: “Feeling stuck in slow motion.”
Eight: “Learning a new language.”
Nine: “Too close but not close enough.” (This. Oh my goodness, this.)
Ten: “Rush of adrenaline, chattering teeth.”
First of all, why does she know my life?! Second, I’m not quite sure how the numbers fit in here, other than the obvious. Third, does there even have to be a third? I feel like you all can bask in this without me explaining my reasoning for each in detail—or at all.
Finally, this: someone recently asked me two questions about my happiest memory and what excites me. Okay, seems pretty mundane in terms of searching for meaning, right? She then asked if I’ve ever taken any of those flash memories and thought “I could do this forever.” And you know what? I’m not sure I have.
But it occurs to me that if this is my most content—if these memories are ones I choose to live and relive because they bring me joy—why would I not want to be like this forever?
That’s the sentiment I get while visualizing the feelings and sensations associated with my silly horoscope and numbers that don’t really seem to mean anything.
Like rolling around in freshly washed sheets on a freshly made bed because you were up reading way later than you should be and you couldn’t contain your excitement at the main characters finally getting together.
Or someone giving you a nickname. Pausing at the last second of the last episode of your favorite show because you aren’t ready for it to be over—not yet. Catching a scent in an unrelated place which pulls you deep into a memory. Rubbing your lips together after applying chap stick. Finishing a candy cane. Coughing while laying down. Falling asleep while watching a movie. Hearing a song you used to love but couldn’t listen to for a while. The fact that numinous and sonder aren’t actual words in the English language and yet The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a book which contains them.
Reading something out of context—like “Charlie, there is a sandwich in the break room”—and loving it but not really understanding why. Writing a blog.
These are moments of contentment. My moments.
Moments like when I’m riding the Maglev from the Pudong airport on a hot and humid—and definitely polluted—summer day in Shanghai. I know I’ll be arriving at a station where it’s practically impossible to catch a taxi. And yes, I feel a little bad that no one had the time to pick me up—even though I realize it’s impractical to pay for a round trip ticket when I’m perfectly capable of getting home on my own. And of course I realize the pollution is constantly shaving at least ten years off my life and the humidity will make me—and everyone else, unfortunately—sweat like we’re crying.
But in that moment, as I sit in the train and watch China pass me by at 300 km an hour, there is nowhere else I would rather be. There is nothing else I would rather be doing. And it is the knowing which makes me content. Because I often think that God is infinite and the world is enormous and there has to be more than this. But in that moment, I simply know.
There’s a lovely scene in an episode of Doctor Who (aside from the fact that it’s completely and totally appropriate here, I had to) where Amelia Pond uses a password to enter a safe room and escape the villain. That password is “Crimson. Eleven. Delight. Petrichor.” (If you watch it: ignore the song. Or don’t. I suppose it’s up to you.) It’s sensory, and it works—not for the words she speaks—but for the images those words conjure up in her head.
Crimson is that colored fabric fluttering in the breeze. Eleven: that number of lit candles on a birthday cake. Delight: Amy, at her wedding, laughing in complete and utter happiness.
And petrichor. Droplets of water falling on the dirt; the smell of dust after rain.
These images are shown in flashes as Amy tries to get the security code to work. Eventually, it does, but that’s not this scene’s purpose here. It’s instead in the way the sensory images are presented; the way I imagine expressing my moments to someone. The way I imagined wildfairys expressing hers.
Because that’s what life is, isn’t it? Lots of little moments? People who say they can’t make it through the day miss that, I think. Nothing is the end of the world. Except, of course, the actual end. And maybe, if people take the time to notice their moments, the times at which they are their most content, why would they not what to live like that forever?
Forget horoscopes. Or numbers. Or the obvious fact that you are not me and the things which speak to me might put you off completely. Forget Buzzfeed and Tumblr. Forget Doctor Who.
And remember. Remember your moments. Write them down if you have to—it’s what I do.
The same friend who questioned my forever also said this: that “we were meant to ache.” That’s beautiful too, isn’t it? Moments like these aren’t always pleasant, and I’m not sure they have to be. There is this thing called bittersweet, and I think it strikes a nice balance.
**Title: “Forever Like That” by Ben Rector**
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