[Note: This is the first time we’re letting a NON BOXX into the mix, enjoy. After all, we are dude lovin’ feminists :)]
Let me describe the most embarrassing moment of my life (to date):
In 5th grade, my elementary school had a special day called “Diversity Day” that was meant to show us what the world would be like if there was no diversity. Of course, I was one of very few people of color in my class/school/neighborhood/town so I knew diversity, motherfucker. Diversity Day ended up working like this: if one person did an action, the rest of the class of 30 or so kids had to follow. This meant everyone had to wear the same outfit. If someone had to go potty, 30 four-foot-tall children would have to walk to the bathroom, hands behind their backs, in a single file line while that one asshole who interrupted the entire class’ reading hour of Junie B. Jones or Goosebumps books used the bathroom. It was entirely counterproductive in teaching what diversity actually was. Everything about Diversity Day was awful, and to MY luck, my birthday that year happened to fall on this day. DIVERSITY DAY.
Elementary school isn’t like the rest of your life past high school – they actually give a shit about your birthday. That meant (as per Diversity Day official rules) everyone had to sing me “Happy Birthday.” Now normally, just your class would sing the song, but that day they had to adjust the rules to fit the occasion. That meant the entire 5th grade had to sing me “Happy Birthday” While I stood there in the center of the entire class. We’re talking over 120 children. Staring at me, not knowing what to do with my hands, or body, or face. Every second of it was excruciating and agonizing. I was fairly indifferent about birthdays then, but I really dreaded the attention. Over a decade later, I recovered for the most part. I still am pretty indifferent about my birthday, but these days I think I have even more of a deep-rooted reason as to why. Welcome to the mind of a Scorpio.
I have a friend who doesn’t talk much, but inside her iPhone notepad contains pages on pages of completely spot on notes she has taken about people she meets and how their personality and mannerisms align with their astrological sign. This would be borderline psychotic behavior if her notes weren’t 100% accurate, almost to a scary point. She doesn’t even have to ask what sign they are, she’s able to tell by the way that they act. This is what piqued my interest in astrology. In the past, when people would ask me what sign I am, they’d usually respond with an “uh-oh,” or nervous laughter when I told them I was a Scorpio. I never really made much of it. I later started to research what it really meant to be a Scorpio and it didn’t long to figure out why these people would respond in the manner that they did. Scorpios are fucked up humans, perhaps the worst of all the signs. We’re jealous and obsessive, but will get offended if people say that we are. We are secretive and not keen on openly displaying emotions, but will let these emotions just bottle up inside and slowly destroy us from the inside out. We’re manipulative, even when we don’t realize we are. We’re painfully indecisive. But hey, at least we’re…passionate?
In most recent relationship, (well, I don’t even know if it would be considered a relationship since I never actually called her my girlfriend because the Scorpio in me was too scared to commit) was a total shit-show. I was hesitant to open up and tell her personal things, because that’s what Scorpios do. The moments I felt like were “big steps in opening up” were apparently not all that momentous after all and she saw it as me not trusting her. I really liked her and this was a rare occurrence that intimidated me. She cared about me more than anyone has ever cared about me before and this was terrifying. Who the fuck would trust my dumb ass with the emotions of someone else? This was not good. It felt like the times I “expressed my liking for her” could be compared to shopping at Costco or a similar store where you buy things in bulk. You take one trip, or make one really big effort to express your feelings, in hopes that it will last for a while. Why buy 4 packs of toilet paper every week when you could buy a 64 pack that’ll last you indefinitely? Just make the times you express your feelings to her really worthwhile and you’ll be good, right?
In the back of the mind however, I knew that wasn’t how it worked. I realized that the Scorpio in me just wouldn’t get past that fear of expressing these emotions that I had. Despite all of this, I am not as bad of a person as that just made me sound. If my mother had waited 2 weeks to birth me, this piece of writing would not even exist – thanks Ma! (Kidding…kind of) This girl lived about 6 hours away and one night before she was going to come see me, I had a complete panic attack over the fact that someone would drive 6 hours to come see me. Why would anyone waste the gas money, time, and effort, just for me? No one has ever done that before. It was simply crazy. In the midst of my inner turmoil, I told her to not come, which eventually led to us breaking things off. You know the classic “it’s not you, it’s me” line? This couldn’t be more fitting, except I actually meant it. Obviously, I wouldn’t add insult and injury and actually feed that line to her, but if this whole situation could be boiled down to a single phrase, that would be it. I learned so much about my Scorpio self from that experience. She is still very special to me and I will hate any person she dates in the future (see my previously listed Scorpio traits). She was the first casualty of my astrological disease. God, I hope she never reads this.
For me, November 7 is more than just the day I was born – it’s a chronic reminder of the stars telling me that I’m fucked. Maybe that “Diversity Day” panic experience and early onset of indifference for my birthday were warnings that there was more to come. Nonetheless, those dealing with Scorpios, tread lightly. Better yet, run the other way.