Monday, October 31, 2011

I Remember When…

 domestic violence

This can’t be happening, I thought as his fists pounded both sides of my head, which felt like a punching bag caught between two hammers. I lashed out, trying to hit him back and he punched me harder. Before I knew it, I had fallen in our bathtub, my chin to my chest, contorted in the oddest position. I tried to kick him. Again, he hit harder. Finally, I gave up fighting as he took his anger out on me and I tried to shield myself from the blows.

I was young…had just graduated from college and thought I knew everything. He was in his thirties, had a slight case of Cerebral Palsy (it wasn’t until later that I found out that he also had an addiction to cocaine). We had just moved into an apartment together. This was the same man that my family and I had gotten into a “scuffle” with when he charged at me because I didn’t want to see him anymore at the age of nineteen. But two years had passed without me having contact with him, so I figured he had changed. Plus, for some reason, I didn’t think of that “scuffle” as domestic violence back then even though I had a scratch on my left breast from that incident that is still there to this day. Anyway, while I was away at school, he had helped my mother out, so I figured he deserved a second chance. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

It all started over a pack of cigarettes. He was a smoker. I was not. He asked me to buy him a pack of cigarettes and I told him I wouldn’t do it because “he didn’t need to be smoking anyway.” Well, who was I to tell him what to do?

After he beat me up in the bathroom, he pulled me into our bedroom where he hit me again. I remember bawling, crying my eyes out and not wanting to look at him because earlier I had seen the devil in his eyes as he pounded away.

“I know you’re gonna leave me,” he said. “I might as well kill you now.” He remembered the promise that I had made when we reconciled: that if he ever hit me again, I was going to leave. He got in my face again and hit me in the stomach.

“I’m not going to leave,” I said, trying to appease him even though my mind was planning an escape.

“If you do, I will find you and kill you. I’m telling you that now.” I could hear the conviction in his voice and that scared me.

I laid down on the bed, balled my body up into the fetal position. He moved closer, touching me, opening my body up to him. Then he got on top of me. I cried harder. It wasn’t enough that he had whaled on me, but I was going to have to be subjected to him having sex with me. I just couldn’t bare that. I cried harder and whispered “no”. To my surprise, he stopped.

I went to work the next day scared…thinking about what had happened the night before (at the time I was a cashier at a gas station). Thoughts of leaving him crossed my mind, but then I remembered his words: that he would find me and kill me. That made it harder to want to leave, even though I had said I would leave if he ever hit me again.

My boss could tell something was wrong and he kept asking questions. “Are you all right?” he asked. Believe it or not, there were no physical signs of the beating I had endured. But I guess I was so psychologically messed up that it was visible to my boss. I finally broke down and told him what happened.

“You have to leave him,” he told me.

I justified what happened…said it may not happen again…made excuses for my abuser. All the classic stuff. Finally, I made the call to the House of Ruth and never looked back.

Of course my abuser called my family looking for me. One time, I was even at my mother’s house when he called. I talked to him…told him I could never forgive him for what he did. Told him that I would never come back to him. Verbally lashed out at him and told him all the things I wish I could have said that night. And guess what? It felt good. 

That day seems like eons ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the color of the bathroom, how our bedroom looked…what he looked like and what he was wearing that day.

Hello, my name is T.C. Galltin and I’m a domestic violence survivor. Stories like mine play out all over the globe…from Baltimore to Bahrain. I will never forget what happened to me. And I don’t want to either. I want it to be etched in my brain for the rest of my life so it will never happen again.

As Domestic Violence Awareness Month comes to a close, we should continue to spotlight this important issue. Abuse doesn't stop just because a month ends. It’s time, people. Let’s put an end to DV.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Halloween At Zaire's Place

In honor of Halloween, here's an excerpt from
Zaire's Place from Aisha's chapter. Enjoy!
When I saw Taliyah in her tutu, I couldn’t help but smile. It was Halloween and the children at ZP were going door-to-door in the shelter trick-or-treating. I had gone to the supermarket and stocked up on some candy because I knew those critters was coming, and I didn’t mind at all.
“What’s the difference between me having a Ouija board and us celebrating Halloween?” Stephanie asked me earlier that day when I came home with M&M’s, Snickers, and all the things I knew the children would like.
“There’s a big difference. Girl, don’t start with me.”
To be honest, I didn’t know what the difference was; I just knew there was one. Stephanie poked out her lip like she wasn’t satisfied with my answer, walked over to the bed and picked up a bag of candy, opening it to take out a miniature Snickers bar. I didn’t stop her.
“Well, don’t you look beautiful, Miss Taliyah! Lord, look at all that gorgeous, pretty hair,” I said.
Taliyah’s long, brown hair was down, coming to the end of her back. Jennifer beamed at the compliment, her shoulders going down, looking more relaxed. I guess she was worried about bringing Taliyah to my door.
Taliyah giggled and said, “Trick-or-Treat” in her little girl voice, her front tooth missing. Then she twirled around and bowed down. At that, I let out a loud laugh, which must have gotten Stephanie’s attention because she came up behind me to see what the fuss was about.
“Cute Halloween costume,” I said.
“It’s actually her ballet uniform. She used to go before we came here,” Jennifer volunteered. “We had to stop going because … well, you know.”
I looked down. I did know. “She’s gorgeous. You’d better watch out, ’cause all them boys gon pay attention to that one when she gets older.”
Stephanie grunted. Then she said, “Miss Jennifer, that’s nice that you put her in ballet. Extracurricular activities are good. I wish I had been able to participate in some.”
Now where in the hell did that just come from?
 I turned to look at her, but she had already left my side. From her reflection in the mirror, I could see her flop on the bed, reading her textbook again.
“Here, baby,” I said, giving Taliyah six treats; she looked like she’d just hit the jackpot.
“Mommy, look at all this candy!”
Jennifer smiled at me and turned to Taliyah. “Now what do you say?”
“Thanks, Miss Aisha.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
The two of them turned to leave, making their way to the next door. Taliyah skipped down the hall.
“What’s wrong with you now?” I asked, closing the door. Come on, Stephanie, please don’t be a pain in the ass.
 “Nothing’s wrong.” She got up from the bed and went over to the dresser, opening the pack of face paint I bought.
That’s when it dawned on me. But, no, it can’t be.
“Stephanie, look at me for a second.” She stopped painting her face and turned around, looking like she didn’t want to be bothered. “Are you jealous of a little girl?”
I saw a flash of shock on her face. It wasn’t the shock that said, “No, Ma, of course I’m not jealous of a little girl.” It was the shock that said, “Wow, how did you figure that out?” She inhaled the air around her and pressed her lips together—her sign of surrender.
“It’s just that ya’ll pay so much attention to Taliyah. ‘Oh, look at that pretty hair’, ‘Oh, doesn’t she sound cute’, ‘Oh, look at her missing tooth,’” Stephanie said, mocking all of us at ZP. She was really good at doing imitations, something I hadn’t realized before. I laughed.
“Why are you laughing at me, Ma?”
“I ain’t laughing at you. I just realized how good you are at imitations.”
She grinned, her face relaxing. I walked up behind her, our reflections staring back at us.
“Baby, I love you. Your hair is just as gorgeous as Taliyah’s and you’re just as beautiful. Don’t ever forget that.”
And I meant it. Her hair was just as beautiful. It was coarser than Taliyah’s, but it was thick and long, something I wish my hair was. Besides, her hair ain’t what makes my baby my baby. She’d be my baby even if she had a thimbleful of hair on that head of hers.
I gently put my arm around Steff’s neck, pulling her close. I could smell her scent, the scent that I had known for fourteen years now. It changed slightly once she got her period and began to perspire, but it was my baby’s scent—none of that raspberry lotion could hide it. Her eyes looked watery and she smiled at my reflection, the world stopping for just a second.
“Come on, Ma. I gotta finish my face.”
And just like that, the moment was broken.
“You ain’t say ‘I love you’ back.” I refused to let go of her neck until she said it.
“I love you, Mama,” she said, laughing real loud.
And I could tell she meant it.
It had been so long since I heard those words that I teared up. I let her go and was about to sit on the bed when I heard another knock. I walked over to the door.
“Trick-or-Treat.”
It was Tristan’s bad ass. He was wearing a large cowboy hat that covered his egghead and there was a woman’s scarf tied beneath it—probably his mom’s. I wondered where Bianca got the hat from. It couldn’t have come from the store. Only women and children’s things was down there. Tristan’s glasses looked like they was about to fall off his nose, probably because his little ass was running through the halls before coming to my door.
“Hi, Aisha,” Bianca said like we was the best of friends.
“Hey.”
I ain’t have no beef with Bianca, just her bad ass boy. Today is Halloween. Be nice, Aisha. Tristan was staring up at me, like he was wondering when I was gonna hand down his treats. Maybe I should play a trick on his ass, turn this Halloween thing around.
“Hi, Tristan,” I said. “Nice hat.” I gave him two pieces of candy and wished them a Happy Halloween, sending them on their merry way.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Justice System Is A Farce

This will be the worst blog post I ever write because my mind is in shambles. So, I apologize for errors and horrible grammar in advance.

My brother got away with murder today. Last Friday, after one of our numerous arguments, he went outside and vandalized the right hand side of my car. I won’t say what the argument was about because I’m not cruel and I won’t put all of his business in the streets even though he has dogged me, hit me more than once, and called me all kinds of names.

You see, because I have no where else to go, I’m staying at my mom’s house. My mother is in a nursing home now dying from cancer and will probably have to go to a hospice. That’s a long story. Needless to say, craziness has ensued and my mother is not here to put a dent in it.

After the argument with my brother, he ran outside and went next door…or so I thought.  I was upstairs in my room and heard the loud, unmistakable sound of something crashing against metal. I went to the window and saw my brother with a rock (or perhaps a brick) in his hand smashing the right hand passenger side of my Honda. The neighbors (his partners in crime) were outside laughing as he did it. I ran downstairs and saw that my mirror on the right hand side was smashed as well. This is his handiwork.





I called the police and they told me to go and press charges against him. Even though I called the cops on him in the past, I never went further than that. But this time I jumped into my ruined car and went straight to the courthouse. The fact that he had gotten to the point where he would damage my property (the same property that got hit by a different neighbor on the left hand side because he was driving drunk and tried to lie about it…the same property that I drive my precious baby girl in…the same property that is the only thing I have left because I’m essentially homeless), I knew it was time to take action. 

Charnita Mathias heard my story that Friday and thank God she issued a temporary protective order. That got my brother out of the house over the weekend. She also issued the warrant for his arrest. The only thing with the warrant was that I had to make sure I showed up at the State’s Attorney’s Office for it to be upheld. Little did I know, though, I could have had him arrested that Friday since Ms. Mathias filed the order for his arrest.

Anyway, today we had to appear in court for the order of protection to continue. Judge C. Evelyn Holt-Stone tried our case. The neighbor (the same neighbor who spit on me on Friday while my brother and I were arguing after he damaged my car…the same neighbor I wanted to kill if I would have gotten hold of her—but then again she’s huge, so she probably would have beat my ass), showed up in court with my brother today as his witness. Even though the two of them took an oath in court, they lied in the presence of the judge and the people there. They said they didn’t know who hit my car…that I always argue with my brothers and sisters because I’m crazy. Yadda yadda. This is the same neighbor who my brother (a felon) smokes weed with every chance he gets. This is the same neighbor whose boyfriend threatened me because I argued with her after she spit on me.

Judge Holt-Stone denied my order of protection saying that she didn’t know who was telling her the truth even though I showed her the pictures of my damaged car. My brother tried to say that the damage was existing damage. I attempted to show the judge the paperwork for that damage that my drunk-driving neighbor caused (an older man) but she wouldn’t look at it. That incident happened back in July. Besides, that damage was on the left hand side. My brother wrecked the right hand side and you can clearly see that it’s the right hand side of my car from the pictures.

Judge Holt-Stone could have erred on the side of caution. She could have issued the order of protection to keep him out of this house, but she didn’t. I cried in the courthouse. I cried in the car. I cried on my way to see the State’s Attorney so I could appear for the warrant.

I got to the State’s Attorney’s Office and told my story. The lady there appeared to sympathize, but then she didn’t mention the warrant for my brother…kept talking about appearing in court.

“What about the warrant?” I asked. “Now that I showed up, shouldn’t that warrant be upheld? Shouldn’t he be arrested?”

At first she said no and my heart sank. I was going to have to go home and be in the same house with my brother who vandalized my car, the same brother who lied in court in my face, the same brother who taunted me after court when I called the house to ask another brother if he was at the house. I got upset. The only reason why I’m not going to out her is because she finally said that there is a warrant already and that the only thing I have to do is call 911 and my brother will be taken to jail. She gave me the number of the warrant and the claim number of the case.

I left her office still upset…still crying…still shaking. I called 911 with no hopes that my brother was going to go to jail. If he managed to escape Judge Holt-Stone, I thought sure he would manage to weasel his way out of going to jail either by hiding out at the next door neighbor’s house (like he always does when I call the cops) or running somewhere else.

I called the house again while I was on the road. “Is _____ there?” I asked my other brother.

“No, they came and got him,” he said.

For the first time since this ordeal began, I felt relieved.

Why am I telling you this story and putting my family business out there? I’m telling you this story because I now know that the justice system is a farce. I recant my blog post about Troy Davis. Click here to see that post. I now know that innocent victims can get passed by in an unjust system. I know that it happens because I am one—an innocent victim who didn’t lie in court. An innocent victim who now has two wrecked mirrors and a mess of a car on wheels.

I would like to thank Charnita Mathias again. If it wasn’t for her, justice would have never been served. My brother would have gotten away with murder. Thanks, Ms. Mathias. May God bless your soul.

In closing, let me say this: if this is what family can do to you when you’re down, who needs enemies?

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Who Would You Do?

chriis brown
A while back, a Twit-friend of mine (@ShoGunChe) posed the question “Who would you do?” and started a Twitter trend. For some reason, I thought about it this morning (probably because of all the Hump Day talk). Back then I was too chicken to share my choices, but now I’m ready to share, share, share and share some more.

Although my baby daddy has ruined me for life and sex is the furthest thing on my mind, I still swoon when I see these mouth-watering men. Here are my choices:

1)   Chris Brown. Hey, don’t judge me! I know he will forever go down in history as the girlfriend-beating, window-wrecking crooner who doesn’t know what to say out of his mouth, but I have to admit: every time I see Chris Brown, I get an itch. He’s sexy and EVERYONE would agree. There’s a reason why he sells millions of records and women have forgiven him for what he did. He has that “ah” factor. Besides, he hasn’t repeated the abuse (that we know of), so I’m willing to crush on.

2)   Usher. I guess I have a thing for singers, eh? I always liked Usher. He’s the quintessential singer of baby-making songs for the past two decades. But when he came out with “Love In This Club” that solidified his sexiness for me. Those dance moves, especially at the end…damn. Just thinking about it makes me— (Um, TC, let’s move on.)

3)   Three white dudes on the CW network (not at the same time, okay!). Well, one of them is no longer on the CW. The first dude I would like to do is the guy from “Smallville” (Tom Welling). The show is now off the air but TW’s memory lives on. He’s a tall ball of hotness. And those juicy red lips…ah sucky sucky!

Then there’s Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles (the two guys who play brothers on the hit show “Supernatural”. Not only are they funny as hell with the quips that keep coming, but they are hot hot hot hot! Tuning into “Supernatural” every Friday is a treat.

Well, there you have it. My quick run-down of the men I would do if given a chance. That gave me a nice little break from my project. Now back to work! Have a nice Hump Day, ya’ll!

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Bleach-Throwing Baby Mamas In Baltimore

Arrested: Theresa Monique Jefferson and another woman were fighting with bleach and ammonia according to police
I love Baltimore. I really do. But damn. We’re in the news again for some crazy shit. I’m sure you guys heard about the bleach brawl between two “women” at Walmart. Apparently, the baby mama was upset about something and assaulted the “new woman” at the store. It wasn’t enough to beat the new woman up, but baby mama took bleach and another chemical (one source says ammonia, another Pine-Sol) and began to throw it on her. Really? Honey, he ain’t worth it.

This catfighting thing is really getting out of hand and I think reality TV has something to do with it. Everyday women are bombarded with images of women getting in each other’s faces, ganging up on each other, and slapping each other silly (hello…can we say “Basketball Wives”?). Women who don’t know any better are beginning to think this type of behavior is acceptable. It’s really sad. They’re acting like cave women.

I said it before and I will said it again: it’s appalling when “grown” women fight (homegirl is 33…she should know better). Any modicum of class goes down the drain because no woman with class would assault another woman. Ladies, it’s just not cute.

Now the defendant is trying to get custody of her son back. If I was the judge in that case, I would make that woman (Theresa Monique Jefferson) work for it. What kind of example is a woman who throws chemicals on another woman? If that’s how she acts in public, Lord knows what she does at home!

I know I’m bad for the joke I’m about to make, but I’m going to go there. That must have been a serious fight anytime the entire side of homegirl’s weave got ripped out. SMH

Let me leave you with a quote:

People who fly into a rage always make a bad landing. ~Will Rogers

I’m out, people. Have a scintillating Saturday.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

What Would Lady Gaga Do?

lady gaga
Um…so…I’m just beginning my journey as a published author and I have to say I’m thrilled. Ecstatic. *does a jig* What is equally hard for me to admit is that I’m scared as shit. As an artist, you are opening yourself up to criticism, to judgment, to being the butt of the cyber bullies out there, which I had the joy of recently experiencing. So, to calm my nerves and sooth my mind, I had to (once again) turn to music for inspiration.

I love music and one of my favorite performers is Stefani Germanotta. I know you’re saying, “Stefani who?”  The world knows her as Lady Gaga. It wasn’t until Stefani become Lady Gaga that she experienced the level of success she is currently experiencing. When I began to worry about my new journey as an author, I had to talk to myself and ask myself what would Lady Gaga do (WWLGD) if she were in my shoes? What would she say?

As an artist, I think Lady Gaga would tell me to:

1)   Do what you were born to do. It seems like the heavens open up to support a person who is on task with their mission in life. Gaga is a powerhouse. She experienced rejection and kept it moving because she knew who she was meant to be even when the world didn’t.

2)   Embrace your outlandish side. Step outside the box. Be creative. Be unique. Be you. That’s what gets you noticed. Lady Gaga has donned every custom out there…including an outfit made of meat. While I wouldn’t advocate walking around in a meat suit, I would definitely say don’t go with the herd (no pun intended). Be different.

3)   Be genuine. I had the thrill of seeing Lady G. in action on interviews and I can honestly say that she cares about people. When she was on Oprah talking about how she roots and cheers for the underdog, I cried my eyes out. She “sees” people and makes them feel like they matter.

4)   Accept yourself. I have a lazy eye. At first I tried to hide it, which is impossible. Now I say to hell with hiding…I’m going to sport my lazy eye like a prize. People teased Gaga about her teeth, her nose. I happen to think she’s one of the most beautiful women out there. Did you see her on the cover of Bazaar? She was gorge!

5)   Don’t change. Even in Gaga’s inconsistency, she is consistent. She is true to her authentic nature. As an emerging author I struggle with this. At times I wonder if I should be more “professional.” (I curse like a sailor and embrace acronyms like LOL.) But then I say, “What would Lady Gaga do?” She would tell me to be who I am and not to change for anybody, and that’s what I intend to do.

So, in honor of Lady Gaga and the start of my journey as a published author, I’m going to leave you with the song of hers that I love the most…the amazing…the Earth-shattering “Bad Romance.” No matter how many times I hear this song, it never gets old.

P.S. Don’t forget to order your copy of Zaire’s Place! It’s available from amazon.com! Get ZP’d! ;-)

"Bad Romance"
Lady Gaga

Saturday, October 8, 2011

The Mighty Mighty Pill

Pills
I was on Twitter this morning (nothing new there) getting riled up about the evil formula industry that tries to peddle artificial milk to expecting moms. During that twit-versation, the subject of prenatal vitamins came up. I tried to stop myself from going on a rant but I couldn’t help it.

WBAL-TV News reported that the pill industry is now encouraging expecting moms to take prenatals that have DHA (an essential fatty acid found naturally in certain fish) in them. I wanted to throw a shoe at my TV. I’m tired of the pill industry pushing the idea that everything can be cured with a pill. What happened to the idea of healthy eating to meet your nutritional needs?

I consciously made the decision NOT to take prenatal vitamins with my daughter. And guess what?  She turned out perfectly fine. While I was pregnant and informed people (doctors, nurses, “regular” women, etc.) of my decision not to take prenatals, I was given the side-eye too many times to count. Some women even confronted me about my decision and went so far as to call me a “bad mother” for not doing what I was “supposed to do” and take those damn pills.

I’ll be honest with you…there were days when I questioned my decision. It was on those days of doubt that I became more determined to eat healthy because I knew my baby’s health depended on it. Thoughts of my baby being deformed because of my decision entered my mind, but then I would remember the experts saying that there is such a thing as “too much of a good thing” when it comes to vitamins. Too much of a nutrient can also cause birth defects. So, I felt justified in my decision and stood in it. Believe me, I wasn’t willy-nilly in deciding not to take prenatals. I did do the research. And in the end, I reached my own conclusion…to go pill-less. I refused to be brain-washed into the idea that my unborn child’s health depended on a pill.

I think that’s what wrong with the world today. Many people are under the illusion that a pill will solve any problem they are facing. There are a bunch of drugged-up zombies walking around enslaved to a pill. Got a headache? Pop a pill. Feeling mentally down? Pop a pill. Need sleep? Pop a pill. And they are doing exactly what the pill-pushing industry wants so they can profit from an ill.

Although Pink was talking about a relationship when she wrote “Just Like a Pill,” we can learn a lesson from these lines in her song:

You’re just like a pill
Instead of makin’ me better
You keep makin’ me ill.

A pill can’t solve everything. Enjoy Pink’s song.


Pink
"Just Like A Pill"

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Everything But “Mr. President”

President.jpg President Obama
Karma is truly a bitch. When George Bush was in office, I dragged his name through the mud, criticized him with every breath, and called him every name in the book, and in my opinion (and most of the world’s), he deserved it. I’m ashamed to admit that one time I even wished someone would take a hit out on him. I know…pretty bad. My how the tides have turned.

Now we have a President in office that I admire, that I voted for, that I wanted nothing but the best for and there is a segment of the population…a huge segment…that gets off on calling him everything BUT “Mr. President.” They have called him “boy,” used Hitler (the antithesis of Obama) and his name in the same breath, named fried chicken joints after him…the list goes on.

The most appalling thing that I saw years ago is still etched in my brain like it was yesterday. It was a depiction of President O. as an African savage, replete with a bone in his nose, a spear in his hand and a pose that looked like an animal. That picture destroyed my heart and still makes me want to hurl every time I think about it.

I’m all for free speech. Our country was founded on it. However, I have never seen the level of disrespect that our President has gotten. (Does the Congress member who shouted out while Obama was speaking ring a bell?) I mean, come on…George Bush started unnecessary wars and yet the political administration never vehemently denounced him like they are doing Obama.

The Re-pube-licans have been cockblocking our President, trying to stop him at every turn without giving viable reasons for their actions. They hate him that much and consider him “the enemy.” What has Obama done to deserve this treatment? Absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, he has been too respectful of those disrespectful folk. In an effort not to reinforce the stereotype of “the angry black man,” he has yielded too often and too much.

Many of Obama’s opponents are racist, but of course they would never admit it. The things they do have racist undertones, but they will try to find every way to blame how they are feeling on something else. “Oh, it’s his socialist policies that we don’t support,” they will say. But what about Bush? Bush ran up the deficit way more than Obama and everyone went along with it. So it was okay to for Bush to bail out Wall Street but not help the common man? Obama wants to pass the American Jobs Act and the Re-pube-licans don’t even want to vote on it even though Americans are suffering dismally.

Such a decent man does not deserve the disrespect he’s currently receiving on all ends. Yes, he could do better. Yes, he could stand up to the Republicans more. Yes, he could work harder to fight for the common man without worrying about what the opposition thinks. But there is no amount of wrong moves that deserve the verbal laceration that Obama currently receives. None. Especially when George Bush did worse.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

What’s In a Sign?

Astrology
I’m a huge fan of astrology…to the point where I check my horoscopes (yes, plural) everyday. I used to be over-the-top with my addiction—visiting more than five sites a day just to see what my future held. Once I realized how crazy that was, I began to tone it down. Now I visit two sites daily (Holiday Mathis and MSN) and one site monthly (Astrologyzone.com).

While I don’t believe in the validity of day-to-day horoscopes (I check them for fun), I do believe in the general characteristics that most astrology gurus describe for each sign. For instance, I’m a Taurus. Most astrologers say that Tauruses are pretty peaceful…until you get them upset. Then they are like a bull in a China shop, and it’s VERY true. I have a temper that just won’t quit once I get riled up.

Another example: Geminis are known for their dual nature. They are one way one day and can be another way the next. You never know what “face” you’re going to get when you’re dealing with a Gemini. I have found this to be true and steer clear of most Geminis.

Cancers are sensitive, just like many astrology experts say. As a matter of fact, my rising sign is Cancer. (Your rising sign is different from your sun sign. Your rising sign is the face that you present to the world, while your sun sign is what you are on the inside—your true nature, your make-up. Rising sign is determined by your time of birth.) True to nature, I am extremely sensitive and very motherly, but sometimes I try to hide that under a strong exterior, which is typical of many Cancers.

While I know this astrology thing is not definitive and millions of people break the astrology “mold,” it’s still fun to read up on this stuff. So, in honor of the stars, here are a couple of sites to visit to find out more about yourself and the people in your life.


Happy astrology-ing!