Because my employers are kind enough to provide state-of-the-art technology, I get to surf at work.

Translated, that means I get to check my horoscope on a gazillion different websites before I settle down to do any real work.

I have mixed emotions about my hobby. All that time and money to construct the Information Superhighway, and I just want to find out if it's going to be a nice day for a drive.

I look at other things on the web; there's Ovi's World of the Bizarre (just type in Ovi on your search engine; I don't memorize web addresses) and the Office of the Assistant Director, the site dedicated to my favorite TV hunk, the guy who plays Skinner on "The X-Files."

My daily dose of destiny, and everything you ever wanted to know about big, bald, surly guys on TV.

I like technology, when it serves my purpose. Otherwise, I shut my eyes tight and hope it goes away before I have to buy it and learn to program it.

What occasionally worries me is that I dislike driving, metaphorically at least, without a road map.

I do not live by horoscopes; I don't plan my days around the movement of the planets. I don't consult psychics.

But I feel a little guilty if I don't check the forecast for Taurus, just in case.

It's a fairly harmless compulsion.

Actually, I'm not a compulsive at all; I'm a control freak. What I do is keep clicking until I find the horoscope that says what I want to hear, and pick and choose responses to fit the celestial pattern.

If more than two tell me to get my brakes checked, though, I'm on the way to the nearest mechanic.

Astrology barely qualifies as a pseudoscience, but it certainly sounds good, and who wouldn't rather blame a bad day on Saturn's influence than on their own foibles?

But the fact that Jimmy Stewart, Cher and I all share the same birthday kind of blows the whole zodiacal theory.

It's all in the rising signs, right?

My friend Jana, queen of the metaphysical plane, channels and chants and lights candles and buys crystals.

Her soul is centered, and any chakra that dares to slip out of alignment is (gently) nudged back into place immediately.

Her psyche is at ease; her life, however, tends toward the chaotic.

"I am at one with the universe," Jana jokes. "Now if I could just find my car keys."

My friend Tina, who just bought a new house, is consulting feng shui charts to make sure all the entry points for positive energy are properly aligned.

At this point, I'm happy if I remember to close the blinds before I take a shower. What does that say about my metaphysical state?

Frankly, it doesn't say much about my physical state, either, but that's another column.

I'm old enough to know there's not always a clear path through life; most times you're lucky enough to be pulled along in the right direction by time or fate or God or whatever.

I guess it beats being trampled by Jupiter.

Peggy O'Farrell is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.