Oh, those stars.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Please don't wear a t-shirt that says what I saw on the canary yellow t-shirt of the Japanese tourist at JFK airport: "Sorry, I'm a loser." I also beg you not to read Ethan Trex's book *How to Seem Like a Better Person Without Actually Improving Yourself.* It's very important, in my astrological opinion, that you not demean or underestimate yourself in the coming days. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that you have a sacred duty to exalt your beauty and exult in your talents. Now go read Walt Whitman's *Song of Myself,* and periodically murmur the first line all week long: "I celebrate myself, and sing myself."
So basically the stars are telling me to be a big bucket of ego this week. Which is nice and all, except that I figure people would start hitting me by somewhere around day three. Instead, I shall do my best not to be wounded by the things that others say, and to remember that mockery can sometimes be gentle and meant with love, rather than being the verbal equivalent of a basket of rabies. Because nobody loves a rabies basket.
Ah, the psyche. And also the stars.
So basically the stars are telling me to be a big bucket of ego this week. Which is nice and all, except that I figure people would start hitting me by somewhere around day three. Instead, I shall do my best not to be wounded by the things that others say, and to remember that mockery can sometimes be gentle and meant with love, rather than being the verbal equivalent of a basket of rabies. Because nobody loves a rabies basket.
Ah, the psyche. And also the stars.