Gemini and Dog,with some evidence to say they’re accurate and some to the contrary.
Signs aren’t really my thing. I’m rather rigid with things like that, evidence or my disbelief. Now, perhaps there is some kind of quantum entanglement associated between personality determining factors of individual people and the lines we draw between the vastly distant points of light in the sky, but I sincerely doubt it.
However, I think zodiac/astrology/signs are an interesting concept, and I think that they provide a basis for some identity and values. For example, as a dog I’m supposed to be loyal. I certainly don’t think that’s a bad principle to have.
I don’t buy it, but they’re not a bad thing. If a horoscope says it’s a good day to kill, don’t. If it says you’ll find love, hope as much as the disappointment you can handle.
The other day, I went for a walk in the rain. On this walk, through the old town area, I passed by a park. It’s a small brick paved area between two buildings, with some trees, benches, and such.
Now, as I looked at this location I’ve known my entire life I found myself recalling a relatively recent memory of a time I had sat in this park and cried. This memory did have a person associated with it. However, I’m still on good terms with this person, and I have forgotten the events causing this sadness. Although I do remember crying and being sad, no emotion response is conjured with the memory.
In a pessimistic shade, it shows that even as history falls away and the hurting fades, the pain is remembered. In an optimistic light, time heals all wounds, and I have a functional memory. I’m thinking that it added up to almost nothing. The memory is a record, nothing more or less.
What are you a student of? Are you going to school for a degree in a specific field of study?
Short answer: Philosophy.
Longer answer: When I was a younger (like 8-13) I would have said I wanted to be a writer, and that’s because I love stories and reading was my primary medium for meaningful content at the time. That’s the last thing I remember dreaming of being. As I’ve grown and come to university that question has typically been answered as, “I dunno.” I’m interested in almost everything. However, I’ve found a home in the philosophy classes because I mesh with the professors, fit the style of work, highly enjoy the material, and find it an interesting nexus from which I can also study anything else at my desire and that suites me. I also have some delusions of grandeur, but that seems to be par for the course with the people I meet in said classes.
Perhaps with a shoe and a mighty thump you have suddenly pulverized an arachnid into a stain with some legs stuck to it.
What of a less intense method?
You take some tissue paper, several sheets, and place them other your pinching fingers. You rapidly extend your arm pressing your fingers to the wall and then together as quickly and thoroughly as one can.
As you retract the tissue opens slightly, and in it is the corpse of the beast. It’s body is smaller and deflated. The legs are curled inward.
The legs are curled.
Perhaps when the spider died it’s muscles contracted forcing it’s legs to bend in. Or maybe it was pain. As you fingers pressed upon it’s body,the creature tried to condense itself. Hugging itself, in a desperate attempt at one last embrace.