I have an innocent obsession with horoscopes. If I see a preview for an article titled “This Month’s Full Moon Will Be Worst For These 3 Signs,” I’m clicking on it. I know my star sign (Taurus), my family’s signs, and my friend’s signs. I am trying to figure out my coworker’s birthdays for the purpose of knowing their respective signs.

Why does this matter to me? Part of it is a leftover childlike wonder with magic. Determining a personality using the position of the planets and stars at our time of birth? Sounds like magic to me. It gives us the ability to unlock codes not only in ourselves but in any other person you might come across. As I got older, it became a way for me to try and understand someone new to me — a kind of empathy. And as cliché as it sounds, it can be a useful conversation starter. Talking to those who are not as obsessed with their star sign about their own sign can feel powerful.

“Oh, you’re a Scorpio! That explains so much.”

“But why?” They say.

You can then delve into a detailed explanation of personality traits. Astounding them with your intimate knowledge. It’s a party trick. But it’s fun when it works. It’s not just a sleazy pickup line. It can lead to an honest conversation about that person, resulting in you getting to know them better.

There is also a sense of pride if you align yourself with your sign. You belong to a club of people, and there is no way to change or leave that club. Humans are desperate for an identity. We will grab it anywhere we can. That’s why, whether a person cares about it or not, if you ask someone what their star sign is, they know it. Horoscopes are ingrained enough in our culture that it is necessary to know. Signs are synonymous with cultural heritage, only less controversial. Why else would people bother to put it on their dating profile?

The other side of this mystical coin is more personal. I am a control freak (a typical Taurus behavior). I like to know what to expect so that I can plan for the future. If a horoscope can give me some clue for how my day will go, there will be fewer surprises. It’s a security blanket. It’s also a convenient way to place the blame of a bad day on an other-worldly, beyond my control, reason.

“Mercury is in retrograde. I should have known that this day was doomed.”

Mercury is in retrograde right now, by the way. And I am using it as an excuse for many things. Look it up. I have no shame in blaming it.

Whether you choose to put stock in stars and alignment and planetary positions. Or choose to write it off as a bunch of hooey. There is no harm in looking at something bigger for comfort. I am not letting the stars decide my entire day, and not at all letting them decide my life. (No one tells a Taurus what to do). But if I can use it as a way to break up the monotonous ordeal that is human existence? I’m going to. Everyone has a guilty pleasure. Mine happens to make me feel more connected with myself and the people around me. Plus, I know I’m not alone. When I find someone else with a passion for reading the stars, there is mutual respect. We know what’s going on. And we’ll gladly give you the excuse to blame Mercury for a bad day.