I collect Cancer-rising friends the way I used to collect state quarters, with patience and appreciation as I quietly gawk at their beauty. I used to judge their sensitive exteriors, fiddling with my hair tie as I noticed the liquid forming in their eyes. ‘Oh god,’ I’d think. ‘They’re gonna want me to comfort them. I’m an Aquarius. I don’t know how to do that shit.’ As I’ve entered adulthood and befriended more and more Cancer-ascendants, I’ve come to understand them better than the 2nd grade version of myself who made my Cancer-rising grandmother cry at a cheerleading competition. They’re sensitive—yes. And it is not a quality they’re proud of. However, unlike a lot of Aquarians, they don’t judge others for spontaneous outbursts. As I become more in touch with my planets in Pisces, and endure breakup after breakup, and live in a world where Trader Joe’s discontinues their champagne vinaigrette, I find myself depending on my Cancer friends. I know that when I knock on Jordee’s door at 11PM after I’ve just been dumped, she’ll listen while I cry, make me toast, and force me to drink water. And two weeks later, she’ll check-in to repeat the process without complaint.
With that being said, I advise everyone to go hug a Cancer today. However, there is a dark side to the first of the water signs. All that love and emotion doesn’t come without its, sometimes irrational, dramatics. After all, Taylor Swift is a Cancer moon. But understanding that it usually comes from a place of raw, uninhibited emotion makes it difficult for us to fault them. They make excellent best friends. But maybe take caution before handing them a guitar and a country record deal.
Does my closet have enough space for my Taurus moon? I considered asking my landlord this as she began her tour of our new apartment. My triple air roomie seemed to think it was just fine, clapping his hands with uninhibited enthusiasm at every reveal of a new nook or cranny. My new closet is the largest I’ve ever had the pleasure of owning. It takes up the length of an entire wall, with a wide shelf adorning the top. The left side has two rods, one several feet above the other, to allow for twice the storage. The right side is mammoth, with dimensions almost deep enough to encompass my dozens of sequined accent jackets. But in regard to my original question, the answer is no. My closet is not big enough for my Taurus moon. I’m not sure if Kim Kardashian’s closet is big enough for my Taurus moon. And why is that? Because I love things.
My other roommate is a double Taurus. He never has enough money for the five dollar cover at Clifton’s, yet it seems like every day there’s a new package at our door. I sigh as I turn over the cardboard and discover what I already knew. Another package for the double Taurus. What is it this time? Another criterion DVD? Another Blondie record on vinyl? Fancy caramel syrup for his morning latte? All of the above?
Christian and I have both been labeled “stingy” at one point or another, but he’s not stingy when it comes to Trader Joes’ fresh mozzarella, and I’m not stingy when it comes to Argon oil shampoo, because although I wear my hair curly, I need the Brazilian oils to reduce frizz while I live in the least humid city in the world. It’s worth ten extra bucks, I promise. Or at least that’s how I rationalize it at the CVS self-checkout. What I’m trying to say is, it’s not a matter of being stingy, it is a matter of knowing our opinions and having the patience and determination to obtain the objects we deem valuable. We’ll take caution to avoid spending more than we have, because how else will we accumulate the funds for our following purchase? I’ll eat nothing but pasta for a week if it means I’ll be able to afford the pair of pastel pink Adidas I’ve been eyeing since Sunday. And now they’re half off! It’s a life of earthy comfort, a life of simple pleasures, a life of pretty mugs and good sex. It’s a pleasant existence to take part in, if only I had a second closet.