Astrology and etcetera....
Sep. 13th, 2007 03:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redfirecrackerOkay, because these kinds of things interest me, I was looking at the birthdates for Sam and Dean Winchester, versus the birthdates for Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles.
So. Dean's canon birthdate is January 24, 1979, which makes him a Capricorn. Sam's official birth was May 2, 1983, so he's a Taurus. Pretty much classic, boiled-down-to-basics astrology and a good match for a partnership. Someone did their reading before they assigned birthdates for the characters . . . even if all they read were the Wikipedia entries. I mean, astrology is much more that just the sun sign.
It's probably asking a bit much for a complete natal chart on each of the Winchesters, huh?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Then, because I'm a dork, I looked up the birthdates for J2, and, holy cow!
At least on the surface, you can't get more simpatico than the two of them. Pisces and Cancer: they practically have a psychic link! No wonder they seem so comfortable together.
I think I might KILL to get my hands on their natal charts and do a breakdown of their relationship.
I know, I know, that's horribly invasive and none of my business. This is the kind of reason why I don't go to conventions or make any effort to actually meet these actors that I crush on so fiercely . . . either I'm going to totally freeze up, or I'm going to be one of those horrible people who give fans a bad name. It's a horrible thought and sends me running for the hills every time I even vaguely contemplate attending a con.
Secretly, I harbor the deep-seated fear that I'll somehow manage to hit a pedestrian and it will suddenly turn out to be, you know, some actor that I'm lusting over, and I'll have a complete nervous breakdown and start doing crazy-ass stuff like licking the blood from his ( hopefully only attractively injured ) forehead or something.
The flip side of that is the fantasy that the universe will somehow engineer a meeting ( for which, obviously, I take *no* responsibility-- notice the passive voice, here? ) and that I will be just as bitchy and proud and vicious and sarcastic and selfish and horrible as I am in real life and he ( whomever, flavor-of-the-week of your choice ) will still find me interesting and will fall madly in love with my bad self. That's my version of a fairy tale.
Funny how they never quite work out that way.
So. Dean's canon birthdate is January 24, 1979, which makes him a Capricorn. Sam's official birth was May 2, 1983, so he's a Taurus. Pretty much classic, boiled-down-to-basics astrology and a good match for a partnership. Someone did their reading before they assigned birthdates for the characters . . . even if all they read were the Wikipedia entries. I mean, astrology is much more that just the sun sign.
It's probably asking a bit much for a complete natal chart on each of the Winchesters, huh?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Then, because I'm a dork, I looked up the birthdates for J2, and, holy cow!
At least on the surface, you can't get more simpatico than the two of them. Pisces and Cancer: they practically have a psychic link! No wonder they seem so comfortable together.
I think I might KILL to get my hands on their natal charts and do a breakdown of their relationship.
I know, I know, that's horribly invasive and none of my business. This is the kind of reason why I don't go to conventions or make any effort to actually meet these actors that I crush on so fiercely . . . either I'm going to totally freeze up, or I'm going to be one of those horrible people who give fans a bad name. It's a horrible thought and sends me running for the hills every time I even vaguely contemplate attending a con.
Secretly, I harbor the deep-seated fear that I'll somehow manage to hit a pedestrian and it will suddenly turn out to be, you know, some actor that I'm lusting over, and I'll have a complete nervous breakdown and start doing crazy-ass stuff like licking the blood from his ( hopefully only attractively injured ) forehead or something.
The flip side of that is the fantasy that the universe will somehow engineer a meeting ( for which, obviously, I take *no* responsibility-- notice the passive voice, here? ) and that I will be just as bitchy and proud and vicious and sarcastic and selfish and horrible as I am in real life and he ( whomever, flavor-of-the-week of your choice ) will still find me interesting and will fall madly in love with my bad self. That's my version of a fairy tale.
Funny how they never quite work out that way.
