At War with a Mytic: The Reading, Momma

Friends,

(here we pick up from yesterday's post about the set up to the psychic visit, I included all that so you know what I told the psychic and what she would know about me before the reading started. I should also note that I don't remember every single thing she said, but I got as much down as I could, and it may be a bit out of order, but the reading did jump around some as well.)

Janet the psychic took my wedding ring and rolled it in her fingers like a kid working a piece of clay. She kept her eyes closed, cocking her head imperceptibly from time to time, listening to the whispering cosmos and spieled out with enthusiasm and as fast as the legal mumbo jumbo at the end of car commercials, information about me and my future.

First, she said I was creative. Very creative, actually. A writer.

Good get, I think. And I wonder if she really remembers Diana was a writing teacher, but really, how many readings did she do between her and me, so it doesn't make sense that she would hold onto that. So, right away, I'm impressed.

I am in good health with a long, healthy life in front of me. How old are you she asks, and I tell her 29, and she says I look much younger than that, that I look 17. I laugh and say, "With this hairline?" It doesn't phase her, and the reading rolls on. I know the difference between right and wrong, that I am a good person, with a good heart. I go above and beyond for my friends, and care about them a great deal. And that I feel things deeply, I'm sensitive, and been this way since I was this tall, and she motions with her hands to about the height of a five year old. And, at times, that sensitivity has really hurt me.

When I was a little kid, with my pumpkin-sized head and K-Mart polo shirts buttoned all the way up, sensitive may not be a strong enough word. When my parents fought, or got mad at me, I would walk up to either my mom or dad, hold my hands in fists over my heart, and pull them apart, quickly, like breaking a string, to show it was breaking my heart. I remember my dad one day telling me to knock that shit off, and I felt pretty foolish for doing that move at all, so I stopped. My personality hasn't changed too awful much since then, but I don't make a show out of it like when I was five. Though, I have had my embarrassing breakdowns, like in high school crying in front of an English teacher in high school over getting spurned by a girl I liked and taunted by my ex-girlfriend, I've managed to keep them private, for the most part. Like, I didn't cry in front of anybody when I moved from Mankato, I saved that for the few alone moments in our vacant apartment the morning we drove to Madison. Janet missed the outward stoicism, but sensitivity, good job there. Goes hand in hand with the writer.

She continues that lately, I haven't been eating well. And that I've had some lower body, like leg pain and a bit of a nervous stomach. The cordless phone rings and she picks it up, presses a button, drops it back into the cradle.

Right, on both counts. My right knee has been acting, well, like an old man who can feel weather coming on in the joints. It isn't everyday, but somedays, it's downright achy. Oh, the perils of being tall and fat. The stomach, yeah, that's something I talked about here before that I figured was lactose intolerance, but those issues have subsided even with my intake of cheese, though I still have some gurgly moments.

Then, what happened 3 years ago, she asks. She sees that something happened three years ago that changed my outlook on things. That, I used see a glass, see it as half full, and feel it as half full. I am a positive person. But, since three years ago, I could look at that glass, say it's half full, but not feel it. What happened three years ago? And I tell her, I can't think of anything. Then she says, how long have you been married. I say, about three and a half years. It's not that the marriage she says, something else that caused this change in me, and it's no good. Because, I'm a good talented guy. That something has thrown me out of whack, that event three years ago, and I need to get a change.

What happened three years ago? Indeed, what. More on this one later.

She tells me that I've been thinking about doing something with my education, and that in the next 3 to 6 months my financial situation will change based around this change in my education that I've been thinking about pursuing. Also, she seems with my job, some kind of expansion is coming and it's good for me, and, what do I do, she asks. I stammer, that I work at a call center, leaving out the details of what I do exactly for some reason. And, she sees that this expansion is a good thing for me, relates to the education in some way. I should really make sure I pursue this education thing. Also, in 6 to 9 months, she sees a change in my home, something that has been long overdue, and it stems from the the whole financial situation improving. Cordless phone rings again, she answers, talks for a bit, trying to get the person off the phone, and when she does. We share a little moment of gentle spousal complaint, nothing specific, something like, "Husbands, right?" And I'm like, "Oh, no doubt."

This part confused me to be honest because she kind of jumbled it up with the education relating to the job relating to the housing. Now, it does make sense that those three elements are chained together, but something in the delivery seemed strange. I think she was trying to say that my education I was thinking about changing relates to the job directly, like an opportunity to be trained in some new skill. That I would say is probably wrong. I've thought about seeing about getting trained to work with people with speech disabilities at my job, but you need to pass a hearing test that I probably won't (the other night, I realized I'm losing a bit of my hearing in my right ear) and that would also mean I'm more committed to this job that I really am. So, yeah, I don't know about this part. I like the way it sounds though, particularly if it leads to more money. And, admittedly, maybe I misinterpreted what she meant, because part of the beauty of the psychic reading is that it's intentionally vague enough for you to warp it into whatever you want it to me. Like, you know, I've been mapping out all the changes to my thesis lately, so maybe that's the education change she sees, and since I like to thing of myself as a writer, then that business growth is getting published, which certainly would change my financial situation. Or, I've been trying to work on this new blog, so that would be a business expansion, so maybe that will lead to financial improvement. That would be pretty fantastic I think. It's all in how you look at it.

She then says that she sees this female presence in my life. But there is a separation, by a lot of miles, and she's under a lot of stress lately. And, she's having some back pain. But, she would really like to talk with me. So I should get in contact with them. The phone rings again, and she picks it up, presses a button with an annoyed grunt kind of noise, and returns it.

When I get home from the reading, the first thing I do is call Catherine. Why? Well, because she's perpetually stressed out, and we haven't had time to chat in a while, so I figured she might be the one Janet pointed out. No dice. Catherine is, naturally, stressed but her back is fine. I call Jenny Cropp because I know she's under a lot of stress as well with her intense doctorate program and extensive commuting. Plus, she's living Phil, who must be going thru some serious Bryan withdrawal, so he must be a bear to live with on top of what I'm sure is some homesickness. Anyway, yes, Jenny's back is hurting quite a bit, and she's quite stressed. She gets a little freaked out because I relayed her what the psychic told me, so I wind up talking to Phil for a while. I call Natalie, and yes, she too is stressed with back pain after wrenching it while lifting books, and we did talk for a while, which was good. I also called Danielle, though I didn't leave her a message because somebody else called me, interrupting the call. I did not call Diana because I couldn't find her phone number, and I didn't call my mom because she doesn't really have a lot to be stressed about lately, just suburban ennui. Now, this is pretty interesting that Janet got this one right knowing, or seeing, a female presence miles away with stress and back pain. However, guessing I know a stressed out woman isn't much of a stretch, as I'm sure everyone knows as least one stressed out lady. Plus, don't women usually carry their stress pains in their back, so again that's not too big a stretch. And, let's be blunt here, both Natalie & Jenny are bosomy, and isn't ambient back pain par for the bosomy course? So it's not like this is a rare situation for them. So, in the end, I don't know how impressed I should be with Janet's foretelling on this situation. I waffle.

Then, she spins the ring in her hand, and says, "That's it?" surprised. I, too, am surprised. As this reading has lasted just north of ten minutes. She asks if I have any questions, and I ask about what led her to believe that I was a writer, because that did surprise me that she pegged me for that right away. And she asked why I wanted to know that and I said, "Well, I have a degree in creative writing." And she says, yeah, duh, there's this big sign out front of her place that says psychic, that's how she knew that. Touche, Janet. I asked a question about the financial improvement, though I don't recall particulars about that one. Then, she said something that confused me a little about this. She mumbled, "Well, I could say," she then continued emphatically, "Bryan you're going to hit the lottery."

What?

Then she gets back to the writing. She says that's what I really should be doing, and whatever it was 3 years ago, that got me all out of whack. And that she really recommends I get some energy work done to realign my chakras. Get me straightened back out, so I can sally forth and be the success she sees me as, because I'm such a good guy, she says. And, who is that out there waiting for me because she's getting a soul mate vibe from her, and I tell her she, Emily, is my wife.

Then we walk out of her fortune telling room and back into the leather chair waiting room. We sit down, and Janet talks with Emily about what she told me some, after I give Janet the okay that it's fine to share. We talk first about that thing that messed my energies three years ago. Janet says it's not the marriage, or Emily, but something else. Janet suggests that maybe being an adult, and being counted on, and the added pressures of all that is what may have caused it.

And, of course, she reiterates the point of me being a writer and her being a psychic, to make sure she gets to busy my balls one more time over that. And she says to Emily, "Momma, you got to keep him working" in referring to my writing. "I say 'momma' because I'm seeing a pregnancy here." Emily says, "Not twins, right?" Janet says, "Just seeing a pregnancy, that's all." She turns to me and says, "So you better be careful, all right? Because you're the one with the," and nods her head. She recommends again that I have energy work done, which she admits is just like life coaching, to get my energies realigned. And, it's 125 bucks a week, and I don't even have to be there for it, except for once a week for a meditation session.

So, she mailed this one in. Oh, my wife is my soul mate and you're seeing a pregnancy? Really? Well. That's a remarkable vision, isn't it. Real limb-walking there. But, you know, that doesn't make it not true. Married hetero people do, from time to time, produce babies. Also, what's kind of funny, if I'm having this financial improvement, why should I "be careful" in regards to this pregnancy? Is it some devil baby? Will it turn out like my shitbird cousins? My socially inept cousins? Janet did not elaborate, and I did not think to ask questions about it at the time because right then I'm thinking, "50 bucks for about ten minutes? What the hell? That's like 300 bucks an hour. And 125 dollars for energy meditation that you'll be doing without me there? Fuck that noise. And what was up with the phone ringing the whole time? That's some rude shit."

Janet then says, while looking out her window into the paved over lawn, to Emily about how good of a guy I am, and if she would be interested in trading husbands. Because, while hers is good with a guitar, he's otherwise no good. And that Emily has a real good one. Emily says no thanks. We settle up the bill and that's it.

As I'm walking down the steps, I feel something in my pocket. My moleskin notebook. It's hardcover, so it pushes an obvious square bulge into my pocket, but I've gotten used to carrying it around with me, so I didn't think about it. Her job is to notice everything on a person, she must have seen my pocket and knew it was a notebook. I tell Emily that, and so we both have a chuckle about how un-psychic it was after all her "seeing" I'm a writer. Ah-ha! Gotcha! You ain't so special!

And, while Emily and I are driving home we're trying to figure out what it was three years ago that caused this swerving of my energies. Obviously, while we don't believe, we do believe, trying to figure out this three year thing. The being an adult thing didn't quite seem right, and the only other major event that happened approximately 3 years ago...the MFA degree. Grad school. If that's it, Janet might be right. I lost a heap of confidence during grad school, as I used to be a lot more confident in regards to writing ability. As I progressed in school, I saw that previous confidence as unearned, I was that cocksure undergrad who can't tell a story or write a compelling sentence, though they sure think they're special because they "get" Chuck Palahniuk.

I just didn't know any better. Now, why did I lose it? Where did it go? I don't know. The best reasoning I have is that I have a nose for what's good now. There's an ethereal quality of confidence, authority and control that emanates from the best fiction when you read it. And I know that what I did before, and what I try to do now, just doesn't have that to my ears, eyes and nose. So maybe that's where it went. Lamenting its loss or finding out how it disappeared won't do me any favors. To put it straight, I need to just start writing with a fervor. Act like I want to do this. Quit feeling sorry for myself for not having time to do it, and make time. Show some discipline, for god's sake. Realign those chakras my own damn self.

Anyway, I don't regret this Janet experience. Not one bit. The experience was positive, enjoyable. Overcharged, oh, absolutely and I wish the reading went longer, and I wish I picked a tarot card reading instead to get my money's worth (50 fricking dollars for ten minutes...). But a kick in the ass from a stranger in robes about getting to writing, that helps, no matter how clairvoyant she is or isn't, or how rude the whole phone ringing situation was. It's the universe reminding me, yet again, to get my ass in gear. That's what I needed to hear. So, thank you Janet. I appreciate the hokum, flim-flam and mystery of it all.

viva el mustache