He strutted up to her at the bar, puffing out his chest and sucking in his gut, tugging at his leisure suit and reaching up to make sure that the big collar on his shirt was well-visible beyond his coat.
He said, “Hey, babe, what’s your sign?”
She peered at him, nearly expressionless, flipped her hair, and replied, “In your case, my sign is ‘stop.'”
I will tell you–or perhaps even warn you–that I know next to nothing about astrology.
Someone once told me that I was a Sagittarius, and before he got started explaining to me what that meant in the great cosmic thinking, I grunted off an excuse for my departure.
Even though I don’t know much about astrology, the abiding principle which steers people in probing the stars is completely contrary to my internal guiding light.
It is the notion that our lives are in some way predestined, and our futures determined–and we are merely looking for ways to discover our correct path.
In my belief system, God did not make me to be a path-finder, but rather … a path-maker.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix