the psychic

When we were in New Orleans I went to see a psychic! The meeting was a gift from my aunt. She and her best friend had had their cards and auras read when they’d visited before and I loved listening to their experiences, so we decided to find someone to read me.  Plus, it sounded like a fun way to kill a little time between daiquiris.

So we found a little voodoo shop where they offered readings and I sat down with ________. I can’t remember her name. Can you believe it? That’s either a really bad sign or a really good sign.

Either way, I spent half an hour with this friendly older lady who closed her eyes tightly and tried to “feel my energy.” I like astrology and will happily read about it from time to time, and I can suspend my disbelief with things like ghosts and mediums and the existence of auras. I’m not a believer nor a detractor. I’m just along for the ride and happy to participate and explore.

So it was fun to watch this sweet woman try to pick up clues about me, either from my tone of voice or the information I was giving her, or because of her innate ability to read my energy. I don’t really care which it was, and perhaps they’re one in the same. Regardless, it was a fun self-indulgence to have someone talk to me about myself for 30 minutes straight.

Some of what she said sounded pretty accurate, while some of it was a little harder to believe, and most of it was very positive (which I assume is better for business than giving people negative readings). She seemed to believe I’m going to be “wildly successful,” which I certainly hope is true, and that my relationship with my boyfriend is strong and bonded and will last forever, which I also hope will be true. She told me that my personality is larger than life, which was a fascinating thing to hear from someone I was sitting quietly across a table from, with my hands folded in my lap, wearing a pale yellow cardigan and dorky sneakers.

At one point, after her eyes had been closed and her chin pointed away from me for a while, she opened her eyes very suddenly and looked me square in the face and said “You get bored easily.”

Whether she felt that in my energy, discerned it from something I said, or whether she tells that to all her 30-year-old female clients who say, “Well, what do I do, that’s a good question. I guess I’m a comedian and a writer,” she hit the nail on the head with that assessment.

I DO get bored easily. I always have. I’m not sure if it’s some form of ADD, or a symptom of growing up in an ever-evolving culture of technology and channel-changing, or if it’s just my nature, but I tire of things relatively quickly.

It’s always been something I avoid mentioning in job interviews, for instance. If I’m asked if I’m looking for a long term position, I say out loud, “Definitely. Yes.” But what I really should say is, “I think I am, but that could change tomorrow. Or next month. And I can’t really tell you why it will change. It’s all very emotion-based. If I don’t feel like being here anymore I’m probably going to start to figure out a way to leave. I don’t like to be boxed in.”

When I say these things to my therapist she tells me, “Well, you’re an artist. You’re a creative spirit. You crave freedom.”

Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being a baby.

Either way, I do plan to stay at my next job for a while. I imagine I’ll be pretty into it anyway, but I’m also sort of glad that I’ve committed to it long-term because it means I’ll have to figure out how to keep it interesting for myself and how to avoid emotionally or physically fleeing from something if I’m not so into it anymore. Adult-style.

I read an article recently that talked about how so many of our choices, big and small, are wrapped up in our emotions, and how we’re almost incapable of making a choice if our emotions aren’t involved. People who experience damage to a particular part of the brain responsible for emotion become indecisive to a debilitating degree, even with little things like choosing which pen to use.  This was news to me, since I was often encouraged as a kid to make the rational choice rather than the emotional one.

I rebelled against that notion when I was younger and made choices often based solely on emotion. (Let that be a lesson to you child-rearers out there.) And I’ve had to learn as an adult how to quiet some of those strong emotions that tell me to start an argument or buy something fancy or eat something unhealthy or watch TV instead of doing my work.

I’m not sure I’m going to get over the being bored thing any time soon – I think it might be part of who I am. So I’ll just have to imagine that I’m a toddler who needs a new toy to play with or puzzle to figure out every few minutes to stay occupied.

I should probably start doing crossword puzzles again.

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