Mars square Chiron

So because of my obsessive self-editing I wasn't outside gardening determined not to answer the phone in case I got into an argument when this perfected at 10:00 am but still at the computer changing me and my toothache and my toothache and I backwards and forwards half a dozen more times before I made the post, which led to a bit of an aha! moment, me being so consciously aware at all times and all.

Could it be, Pamela thought, sitting up in bed with her laptop on her knees taking a break from cutting, pasting and exchanging me and my toothache with my toothache and I, could it be, Pamela wondered, that her Mercury-ruled Chiron in Virgo in six in her natal chart symbolizes her difficulties (oops, sorry, bad word - challenges) with the act of writing itself and not her ability to proofread and copy-edit that she has always thought was the bane of her existence because, with Neptune also in the sixth in Libra, she has always pined after the *ideal* job and under no circumstances, for a person with three planets in Aries, albeit intercepted in the twelfth, is proofreading an ideal job. Unless of course they do it at night ha ha, preferably in a hospital, library or prison, which, thank God, Pamela has never done.

What Pamela didn't think then, as she was so blown away by what she thought was a new understanding of herself and therefore the solution to all her problems, was that she was, at the moment the aspect perfected, copy-editing away even then (if replacing me and my toothache with my toothache and I and then reversing the placement ten times in a row can be considered copy-editing) so she was back to square one - Chiron in her chart DOES represent the Virgo pickiness and attention to detail that makes her such a good proofreader and copy-editor that she wishes she wasn't because she'd like to be an interior designer or an art director or a scenic designer or a fireman or an astronaut, but then of course Mars in Gemini is going to set off two things at once anyway, so who the hell knows?

So okay. Pamela no longer wishes she were anything of those things, although God knows she tortured herself long enough wishing she were. She's quite happy to play tennis at seven am and then go to a coffee shop with her tennis partner and play one or two games of Upwords and then go grocery shopping if she needs to and then go home and check email and read The Daily Mail and water the garden so that before she  knows it it's time to get Sweet Pea in and watch the DVRed Doctor Phil and a couple of episodes of Law and Order Criminal Intent and go to bed. Who wouldn't be happy with that?

And now, having completely lost track of what this post might have been about in the first place, Pamela is going to pour the rest of her drink down the drain, watch today's Dr. Phil and retire for the evening. Tomorrow night Pamela will be watching the DVRed last episode of Finding Sarah with her friend and neighbor A, and hopes she will be given valuable insight into the psychological process necessary for finding oneself and forging bravely ahead into the wild blue yonder without choking on the guacamole and, as poor Sarah did, murdering herself.