Psychic Caramel Part Deux.
This was a woman whom B recommended, and I know a couple of other people who’ve seen this woman before and they swear by her. So I figured, why the hell not? Hell! She’s only $30! At worst, it’s an hour of entertainment. At worse worst, I’ve gotten 80 minutes of exercise walking to Broad and Wharton.
This woman was out of a frickin’ movie. Seriously. She had the turban and the hoop earrings. Her house is a hovel, completely crammed with cats, and the walls were smothered in maps and cut-out New Age-y poems and Novenas and such. There was every incarnation of Jesus imaginable strewn about the place, not to mention the Marys and voodoo dolls. This woman was a freakin’ trip. And so South Philly. Oh so South Philly.
(For those of you not from Philly, just imagine someone being from the South side of any major American city…I’m thinking Chicago and Boston, two towns I know like the back of my hand. And their Southsiders are just like South Philly Southsiders. It’s uncanny.)
So this woman has my astrological chart in hand. She babbles a lot about constellations and houses and moons and such. She tells me I’m a 9 Path (I knew this. It means I’ve been around The Universe block many times), and that I’m an Old Soul. I’m here in this life to experience Experiences, as I’ve already Been There, Done That so many times before in so many other lives. Sigh.
And I have to agree.
I am highly sensitive to other peoples’ energies. (True.) To the point that I feel physically exhausted when I encounter people with negative energy (So true.) I have to be careful when buying vintage clothes because apparently I can even pick up on people’s emotional garbage energy in clothes that they’ve tossed. If I buy any used clothes, I must put them in the sun for a couple of days to psychically clean them.
I attract “crazies and needy people”. (Hello! Turkey Boy!) The ideal romantic relationship for me is a fellow Old Soul who is extremely smart. (Yup.)
I’m getting fat. (?!)
(Erm, yeah. That’s what she said.)
Then she said a lot of crazy relationship and career shit that freaked me out and left me essentially mute for the rest of the day. Poor J & B.
But hell, for $30 and an hour and a half of talking about me…that’s a better deal than my therapist!