On the cusp of my 30th birthday, I had my horoscope professionally interpreted for the first time, and oh boy, am I in trouble.
Apparently, every seven years, Saturn does its thing and screws with everyone's mode de vie, and once every 28-30 years, it rears it rings and essentially flips your life over-under-sideways-down, or turns a new leaf for you, or however you want to say it, as long as you say it wide-eyed and stupefied. I suppose your euphemism of choice depends on whether you're happy about the change, like I am, or not. I approach my thirtieth year, as the shadow of Saturn's celestial spatula finally moves on to hover threateningly over someone else's sign. Good luck to you, whoever you are.
It makes sense astrologically speaking, though at the time I didn't know it, that I completely overhauled my life during the last two years while Saturn came full circle for me. Not only did I switch life paths, but I covered my tracks, ran through rivers, rolled in mud, and left no breadcrumb trail and barely any survivors. I couldn't get back to where I began if I were to try, which I won't, because I am too distracted by what Uranus is doing.
The last time I was under Uranus, I dropped everything, every ball I had. After visiting New York for the first time, I sublet an apartment in Brooklyn; cheated on my live-in boyfriend with a hot Mexican salsa-dancing photographer; broke up with said boyfriend; dated an elite male model and planned to move across the continent with him to Seattle with no job, a little money and barely any sense; bought $400 jeans; hung out in Harlem with oddball Real World celebrities and developed a taste for gin and juice at weekly block parties where I was the token white girl; invited my ex-boyfriend to New York for a final good-bye; and, generally raged until my body couldn't take it anymore and I became ill with a fever of 104-and-rising. Then, at the end of it all, I witnessed the century's most televised tragedy first-hand. I called it quits, gathered my balls, and returned to Canada to rekindle with my Canadian ex on September 13, 2001.
So, you can see why I'm not especially comfortable when Uranus comes around.