The last time I wrote a blog post, the earth was frozen and the sky was white. It was right before the year began, when all we had were our premonitions of it. Now, halfway through the year, I find myself writing a blog post for the first time since. Now the sky is blue and the earth is hot and moist with life. The grass has a pulse in the summer, beating so slowly you’d barely notice unless you stayed put long enough. And we rarely ever do. Especially in the summer, especially with freckled skin and pink cheeks. How have I gone so long without posting here?

My birthday is early in the year. There were only a few weeks between New Years and February 18th, when I moved into my 12th house profection year. I’ve only been in this kind of year once before and I barely remember it. I was eleven years old and still seeing the world through new eyes. It is different now, years later, under entirely different circumstances. I am extra conscientious of the way I express myself on the internet, meaning if there is any doubt in my mind I’ll choose to not post at all. Likewise, words have come to me in short bursts but usually in a fictional context. This is probably due to my constant daydreaming, or dissociation perhaps. I am constantly writing a fictional story about my future self, which leaves very little room to analyze my present moment. Of course, I do analyze it. I just do so in scribbles in my journal, quick paragraphs citing the important details. Clues that exist on a need-to-know basis. 

It’s not uncommon that I understand transits in the past tense. After all, being present in the moment is half the battle and I’m barely winning it. But luckily for me I developed a habit of journaling at a very young age. It started in the summer, like most magical things do. My brothers and I were bored, in the time before constant stimulation. It was before the year that I worked all summer to buy my first iPod. At that point, all my brothers and I had were dollar store notebooks and hand-me-down art supplies. It was more than enough, we decided. The day after school ended we would write the table of contents. Each page would have a prompt and, throughout the summer, we would complete them each day. I suppose I just never stopped, even when my brothers did and even when it was no longer summer. So at least I have my journal from the last few months, giving us just enough clues to map my path from the last blog post to this one.

---

CAPRICORN SEASON my 4th house

“I feel like I must be one of the last humans because I have infinite options and limited resources. So limited that even hoping for something feels like a waste of time. Each moment comes and goes. All I want is some dopamine. What form will I choose today?

I am shedding my old self like new skin blistered by the sun. Aging like a first love caught in the summer phase, but it’s winter. It’s January so I spend a long time in the bathroom like mom used to. She told me about her life, now I spend my time in all the same places. It’s winter now and I will clean my house and scrape the ice from my windshield until the freckles sprout. Another year, another birthday under white silence. The Aquarius was almost there, almost born with the flowers. Still winter, not even twenty-three yet. Here we go again.”

AQUARIUS SEASON my 5th house

“To celebrate my birthday I went thrifting with my family. Then I went for a walk with my friends during a wind advisory, and it was freezing because I was underdressed. I didn’t mind. Later, I went rollerskating with my friends and girlfriend. 

I made a fairy house with grandma while grandpa watched the news about Ukraine. I never watch live news. But I get flashes in my dreams, like the one last night with the girl who told me she liked my glasses. She was pretty and covered in dirt because we were crawling underground together. We took this path instead of another, but I can’t remember what the other path was.

I once got stuck on the lines, Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference. Now I’m staring out the back door at the path that diverges in two directions. A visualization of every conflict I’ve encountered in adulthood: this or that? I know what I want to do is write, and of course the ideas are always there, but one day reading became constant media consumption. Naturally, we begin to think that maybe if we make some of that media, we’ll make it to the other side. A creator rather than a consumer. But creators must consume to know what is consumable and so little of the experience actually varies. But writing? No one wants to read anymore, at least that’s what they say, and maybe that makes it more magical. After all, everything we do is just a tradition we choose to cherish. For example, Russia cherishes the tradition of violence like I cherish the tradition of making fairy houses. It is a comfort beyond our comprehension to think that some aspects of life have been perfected. Fear always works if you want to control people, until it doesn’t. Is this America’s Pluto return? Is it just my 12th house year? The responsibility I feel to save the world has always haunted me. I can’t imagine my journals disintegrating into the earth rather than being presented for future generations. Sadie Olivia is just a short experience, but let me love her longer.”

PISCES SEASON my 6th house

“In the beginning I took baths to bathe, it was as simple as that. Then I took baths to play, setting sail towards great storms beneath tiled walls of crayon hieroglyphics. Eventually I took baths to read, refilling the lukewarm water to stay in that other place. I used to take baths just to feel warm, consuming mindless media just like I do in bed but warmer. Now, again I take baths to bathe. Alone with my thoughts and my legs and my arms. I just scrub until I feel pretty or until the water is filled with me. A witches brew of my growth. If it is true that I am real, then why do I wash myself off so easily? Perhaps it would feel nicer to not boil so thoughtfully. Maybe I’ll buy some crayons or reread my favorite novel or disappear from myself entirely, just to feel warmer.

The traumatic early-life friendships to codependence and serial monogamy pipeline. I think in order to heal this I must first live my life on my own. I want to build the life of my dreams, the ones from before I tried to find fulfillment in romance. These are dreams of a long-haired, barefoot woman who roams beaches and mountains. She reads every day so that she can write every day, until a novel writes itself.”

ARIES SEASON my 7th house

{This portion contains mostly drawings and an incredibly personal letter written to my girlfriend. I hope you can understand why I’ll pass on sharing that. The drawings? Self portraits and bedrooms.}

TAURUS SEASON my 8th house

“Are words still beautiful if left unsaid? Are we still responsible for the things we never did? Have we lost control of who we were as a kid? I wait patiently for inspiration to strike, even when creativity hides out of sight. Does a poem come naturally if all the words rhyme? Tell me again about the birds and the bees, though it feels like a sin to forget the dirt and the trees. I pray for a friend like a christian on their knees. The carpet has left an imprint of my skin, I soothe it so I can admit I’ll do it again. I assume this is only convenient until then.

Now, in adulthood, I am torn between two opposing perspectives: if not now, then when? and is it worth the emotional complexity? This mixture results in a cycle of affection and the sudden silence. I wait patiently in my anxiety between every next level of intimacy.”

GEMINI SEASON my 9th house

“The rain was soaking into the hot concrete, but only temporarily, only until the next cloudless day. The sidewalks were uneven but we never complained. Life was too enchanting in your first home, where the streetlights feel like fireflies guiding you towards your future self. I have felt this before, long ago in my mother’s first home. This is why I watch the steamy conversation between the ground and the sky; I have spoken that language before.

I am tired. Not uninspired, just tired. Sometimes I think I am asking for too much, but it would be different if I was receiving enough. All I want is to make enough money to not worry, and make art. I can do that anywhere, anytime. There are infinite job opportunities for me. I love my life as it already is.

Today I had a strong, pulsing connection to my higher self. I listened to Holocene by Bon Iver with my younger self, which made me feel older and wiser. Then a timer started on my car’s dashboard, perhaps counting the first minutes of this new chapter. I can’t help but think the plot may have been the subject of my manifestations.

Crowds all consuming, of faces that are my own or my friends italicized. I no longer hold my fate in the algorithm of the collective consciousness, so I was looking inwards- into each cell, each person that makes this organism up. They are incredibly detailed and still mostly alike. I am one too, maybe, but I feel like an outlier orbiting too far from the other outliers.”

---

And with that, we have reached the present moment. Maybe I just enjoy sharing my journal entries, my lesser published writings. At the same time, it really is interesting to align these writings with the astrological transits during the time they were written. Either way, if you’ve wondered where I’ve been then I’ve just laid it all out on the table for you. I’ve been here the whole time. And I will see you again soon.