Dear Brain

Dear Brain,

It's OK now, school's out. You don't have to think about finding a skirt to wear, putting on mascara, wearing shoes, getting change for lunch money, feeling guilty and over indulgent for calling a cab because Alex overslept again, getting to staff briefings on time, red reports, subject reports, checking on all the tutor groups and/or planning trips and/or checking on the happiness and safety of 180 pupils plus 12 members of Alex's team (but Alex having a stellium in Cancer means you worry about everyone!), break and lunch duties, planning lessons and giving out homework, marking 390 books, pretending to be afraid of ofsted, answering 100 emails every day, remembering to do late detentions, attending staff/departmental meetings (and acting enthusiastic and interested), sneaking onto facebook hoping Big Brother doesn't notice, nudging Alex to remember to run to the loo at 11:08, reminding Alex to fill the kettle to make tea in the middle of lessons (as well as reminding her to grab enough milk, tea and sugar to last until 3:00pm), no need for another reminder to Alex to run to the loo at 2:08 as her bladder can cope, turning off maternal instincts and pretending not to be a mother (my my my that's hard work), making loads of phone calls and being overly polite when the person on the other end only has to read their child's homework diary once in a while, sparkly earrings, pink socks, trainers, baseball caps and bags with logos are now absolutely fine so you don't have to fill in yet another confiscation form, chewing gum is also OK so no community service is necessary, it's also perfectly legal for people to run down the corridor like maniacs because if someone gets hurt you don't have to do a thing about it, if you see a fight look the other way and carry on walking, you do not have to respond immediately to anyone calling out "Miss!!!!", you can now turn off the alarm and let Alex sleep in until way past 7:30am, you can now let Alex write what she wants, use the phone at will, let her eat breakfast at 4pm and drink as much tea as she likes until then.

So. . .lots of empty spaces in the timetable. Relax. It's the summer hols!!

And thanks for all your hard work this academic year.

Love,

Alex

Algol Strikes Again

OK, maybe this time next year, I'll stay indoors!!

Algol on Mars/Sun midpoint (27 Taurus)!!!

Breast Ripper

So there I was, teaching the finer points of medieval torture to overly interested year 7s, when the subject of "breast ripping" came up. Now I've been watching the asteroid Vesta very carefully and was wondering what might happen as Vesta entered Cancer. So I took it as a sign of the times: breast ripping, when German MEN thought it a suitable punishment for women accused of adultery, inducing a miscarriage, heresy, blasphemy and/or witchcraft should have a nasty, claw-like torture device used to effectively shred their breast tissue. Yes well, Vesta in Cancer might very well relate to breasts and their symbols of womanhood. I made a mental note to look into women for whom "breasts" was an issue. I thought of women who might be strong advocates of breast feeding or central figures in the formula milk debates or women who might be over or under endowed in the breast department. . .

But back to breast ripping. . .

"Gosh," I thought, "I sure am glad I don't live in those times." And so I moved on to more pleasant subjects  . . .  like crocodile shears, for example (by the way, I'm only being facetious).

So as my enthusastic pupils hit their assessments, I had a rummage on the internet for the latest news.

And, lo and behold, Angelina Jolie had an elective double mastectomy as she carries a faulty gene and might develop breast cancer.

My first thought, as Ang features in my soon to be released book Growing Pains, was "hold on, she was a self harmer" followed by "she used to want to be an undertaker." Already familiar with her chart, particularly her Mars-Moon-Jupiter in Aries square to Saturn and opposite to Pluto, I waited for details for the date of her surgery so I could see just where Uranus was. And I wasn't disappointed: Uranus was exactly opposite her natal Pluto and both planets were in square aspect on the day (as they will be for the next few months). This triple conjunction was previously activated by transiting Jupiter during her self harming days. . .and all squared by Vesta on the day the mastectomy became public knowledge.

And now, with Vesta in Cancer, the shock of one of the most beautiful women in the world effectively deciding to eliminate the most prominent symbol of her femininity is attracting praise for her bravery. And she's announced she's bounced back (oh the irony) from such a radical surgery, is filming a new movie and has the utmost respect from the delectable Brad Pitt.

Whoa. . .head spin!

A perfectly healthy woman with the money to have the best possible preventative health care has chosen to have the best possible health care to remove perfectly healthy tissue and replace it with some sort of artifical enhancement because some day she might develop cancer. Well good luck to her but today I'm thinking of all the substantially poorer women who are going to take a shower one morning and find a lump, those who will become depressed because life has dealt them a shitty hand because they don't have the money for reconstruction and their idiot husbands walk out on them because the next door neighbour still has her tits. . .and then have some insenstive bastard in Parliament vote to refuse quality post operative care on the NHS because the most beautiful woman in the world bounced back without a tear after her double mastectomy.

I won't be so cynical to accuse Ang of attention seeking but I will say there seems to be a self destructive pattern in the behaviour (such as the tacky tattoos) that have a potent astrological connection.

So how about a few female names with Vesta in Cancer I hear you ask?

How about:

Marilyn Monroe

Madonna

Shakira

Jennifer Lopez

Rihanna

Helena Blavatsky

Bjork

Here's a bi wheel of Angelina and the day she had the surgery:

Oscar Pistorius

He amazed us with his determination to overcome severe physical disabilities. We couldn't take our eyes off of him during the Paralympics. If we were shaking our heads in wonder at his athleticism, we now we can't stop shaking our heads in disbelief.

Oscar Pistorius, aspiration for anyone who has ever been told they can't do something because they have a disability and all around inspiration for everyone has reportedly "descended into hell" and is on suicide watch after being charged with the murder of his lover. It sounded about as plausible to me as Bruce Jenner marrying the ex wife of OJ Simpson's lawyer. . .

I don't think astrology should ever or will ever be used to decide if anyone is a murderer (because we all have the potential to do horrible things) but as I am a creature of habit, I had to see his birth chart.

And my jaw dropped.

By star sign, Oscar is a Scorpio with his natal Moon in Leo. He needs secrecy and yet he craves attention. He needs control and yet he wants to be admired. Aquarius rises, with the traditional ruler, Saturn, in Sagittarius in the 10th and the modern ruler, Uranus also in Sagittarius but in the 11th. This is all about wanted to build a serious reputation but at the same time an I-will-do-it-my-way attitude. But what really grabbed my attention was Venus in Scorpio conjunct Pluto bang on the midheaven. Control freak extraordinaire! No wonder he lived in a gated community. Tangled up in this is also the ruler of the 5th, Mercury, also in Scorpio.

Now in astrology over the past few years, some of us astrologers have tried to view Saturn a little more sympathetically but I will say when the god of time who ate his children is transiting a stellium in Scorpio, it doesn’t look good. A descent into hell indeed! We are looking at a man whose soul is going to trouble him for eternity.

Although I am not going to be drawn into a did-he or didn’t-he debate, I wouldn’t want my Moon’s ruler (the Sun) conjunct my natal Mars (co ruler of the MC) in the 1st house on the morning of my hearing for premeditated murder.

Of course, I wish for a fair trial and if he is found guilty may he be punished soundly but I have a horrible feeling a spell in jail will be no match for what he will put himself through.

Where I've been. . .

Well, I've been a little busy. I know, I know. . .no excuse for neglecting my blog.

So these are my excuses. . .

Firstly--and this is more a boast than an excuse--my book "Growing Pains" will be out soon and it even has a front cover.
Just have a look to the left.

Yup, that's my baby with only a few more edits (I keep finding mistakes and adding things) to go. But it has a front cover I love and it sort of merges my career as a teacher and astrologer in 70,000 words.

Way back in September, just a few days before we were due to return to the classroom, my beloved turned to me and said: "Let's go check out this guy who thinks he has found an ancient alien skull!"

Oh boy, I thought, I can think of more useful things to do during the last few days of summer hols. but Nonetheless, I tagged along and was treated to a presentation by the really lovely Lloyd Pye and his Starchild presentation. What an eye-opening experience!

Next, over the summer I had my beloved trumpet, Wynton, fixed up and shined up so I could start playing in the South London Jazz Orchestra again. Well he shined up like, uh, a new penny. He looked so good that I just had to take him on a tour to Liverpool for a gig. And what a blast (geddit?) was had. We played at a beer festival on the Saturday and in a giant greenhouse on the Sunday.

It was such fun and the really cool thing is that we have been invited back again.

And there's more gigs to come.

Just before Christmas, the very same beloved who dragged me off to see Lloyd Pye, turned to me and said: "Let's go see the Nutcracker!"

This time I balked a bit more strenuously.

"Ballet!!" I scoffed. "Yuk!"

I save the details of my protestations but am I ever glad he persuaded me to go.

The music, the costumes, the dancing!! Halfway through the show, my face itched so I gave a quick scratch and realised the tickle were my tears. Yes I was moved!

Next, I went to Venice (yes Venice) for Christmas. It was spectacular and it was perfect: very few tourists, nice people and the weather wasn't too bad.

So, you see, I have been living out my Venus in Gemini and have kept busy doing the things I love to do.

Now can someone just tell me to get cracking on the FAS exam?

Please?

The Problem With Algol

I've been fascinated with the fixed star Algol for years (with thanks to the late, great Diana Rosenberg, RIP). But the problem with being so attracted to the symbol of such intense female energy is that it can be a little hard to ignore. And so I see its influences everywhere.

Now I do regard myself as being a person who does not want to be exclusively associated with any group. And this is pretty true on a political score too. The times I have felt I've stuck my neck out and committed myself to a cause or to support a particular person or to declare my beliefs have resulted in feeling very let down.

This has never been the case with Algol. The severed head of the Gorgon always has a story to tell. Nonetheless, lest I be tagged with the label of "Algol Alex" forever, I try to keep my big mouth quiet.

And so, when I wrote the previous post about Harry Arsehole, I did notice that the South Node was in retrograde motion at 0 Gemini and would very shortly pass over Algol. I knew there would be a better story.

Lo and behold on the 14th September 2012 as the South Node is bang on Algol. the whole world discovers that Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge, has breasts. Shock! Horror! We speculate all we like about when and if she gets pregnant but we're not supposed to think she has breasts. Not to mention Britain is completely over-exposed to naked breasts--but offended by the sight of a mother breast feeding her baby--and women who get paid well to get them out (but of course these aren't "royal" breasts. . .)!

And right on cue, with "a face like thunder" Prince William is suing the socks off of the French magazine that published the photos of his wife's breasts. Meanwhile, most of the rest of the country has split into two camps

1) Those who were offended that the same country in which Diana died would also publish photos of a member of the Royal family unclothed

2) Those who scratched their heads and thought how on earth could such a famous person actually believe anywhere in the world is private enough to run around naked

Way back in May 2011, I pointed out that Prince William, like his mother Diana, was born with Venus conjunct Algol. William has the added bonus of having Chiron conjunct this point as well. Here's the bi-wheel to prove it:

When William came of age and was ready to marry, he placed his dead mother's engagement ring on the finger of his beloved and promised her she would not suffer the indignities his mother had suffered at the hands of the paparazzi. I thought this was rather creepy.

Well unfortunately, Wills and Kate seemed to have been lulled into a false sense of privacy, perhaps not to the same stupidity level as Harry but one has to wonder why the government won't send Harry to fight in Afghanistan but Wills would think it's OK to allow his wife to walk around in the buff on holiday. I would have thought there would be some understanding that tracking devices of a 3rd world military would be somewhat second rate to the high tech gadgets the paparazzi have access to in a 1st world country.

But I digress. . .here are the transits for the day. Note the South Node on Algol (27 Taurus):

Of the event a BBC correspondent reported:

"The prince had a "look of absolute thunder" on his face as they left Kuala Lumpur - a stop on their nine-day tour - to travel to Sabah in north Borneo. Kate, meanwhile, "looked composed and was smiling"."

To me this comment says it all.

William, it would seem to some, has completely gotten it all wrong. He seemed to have flubbed it when he OK'd it for Kate to flick off her bikini top so she wouldn't have ugly tan lines on her creamy shoulders. He totally misunderstood the skills of the paparazzi and the efficiency of the world wide web. To top it off, Kate doesn't really seem that bothered about it. That's a big ouch from Chiron conjunct Algol.

Here's my advice to the Royals:

Stay indoors with the curtains drawn. All the time. Only come out when you're needed for pomp and circumstance. If you choose to come out and play with the rest of us commoners then it only gives us the chance to find more and more reasons why, big fat pay packet aside (courtesy of the very same commoners), you're no different to us.

A petrifying thought, eh Wills?

Harry Arsehole

Well, when Mars enters Scorpio, we always expect some sort of sexual innuendo. We've had Pussy Riot and now we have a Royal's hairy arsehole and barely covered crown jewels on the front page of the Sun. Turn the front page over and some desperate girl's tits will be poking your eye out. And guess what else? Today the Sun and Neptune are in opposition! Such a scandal! Happy Hangover Harry (or is that Henry?)!!

To celebrate scandals, here's a very special Mars' Ingress into Scorpio with a touch of Neptune joke for cheeky (geddit?) chappies everywhere:
It's the spring of 1957 and Bobby goes to pick up his date.

He's a pretty hip guy with his own car. When he goes to the front door, the girl father answers and invites him in.
"Carrie's not ready yet, so sit down for a mo?" he says. "That's really cool,” says Bobby.
Carrie's father asks Bobby what they are planning to do. Bobby replies politely that they may go to the soda shop or a movie.
Carrie's father responds, "Why don't you two go out and screw? I hear all the kids are doing it." Naturally this comes as quite a surprise to Bobby, so he asks Carrie's Dad to repeat it.
"Yeah," says Carrie's father, "Carrie really likes to screw, she'll screw all night if she gets a chance!"
Well this made Bobby's eyes light up, and he immediately revised his plans for the evening. A few minutes later, Carrie comes downstairs in her little poodle skirt and announces that she's ready to go. Almost breathless with anticipation, Bobby escorts his date out of the front door.
About 20 minutes later, a thoroughly disheveled Carrie rushes back into the house, slams the door behind her, and screams at her father,"DAMMIT DADDY! THE TWIST!! IT'S CALLED THE TWIST!!!!"