Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Yesterday my sister and I went to the beach, walked around the Market a little, saw some childhood friends, and then went to a psychic.
We went to the one on 117th and Detroit, that's been there forever. Because it's the place you used to see every time you went to Red Star, or My Friends, or every time I drove to work at the Pizza Hut. We ran the doorbell, and the woman poked her head out from the apartment above, and shouted she would be down in a minute.
I'm not going to go into the ridiculousness of a psychic, or tarot cards, or any sort of oracle. We all know how false the last gypsy's prophecy turned out to be. So I'm just going to put this down in cold hard insensitive type, and you all can judge me as much as you like.
The witch said I should move west, to San Francisco, by this Fall. She told me my entire life was on a wrong path thanks to a mistake of a relationship, and in order to meet anyone or do anything, I had to get West ASAP.
Let me just point out, right now, I'm disturbed by the trend of all psychics I've seen to give me specific deadlines. The last one, you may recall, gave me 6 weeks to find a soulmate. This one wants me out of the state by November. And they both told me I was a thorough perfectionist, which is the opposite of true. But I'm starting to think maybe I dress like someone who wants deadlines? Or maybe the obvious doubt in my face causes them to make crazy claims that guarantee I won't ever come back to them.
I mean, I don't think anyone is going to disagree that my life got derailed by the Bad Ex.
And I want to move, so badly.
I tried to argue with her that San Francisco was too expensive, all of the West Coast was. She told me I just needed to look at areas outside the city, that the important thing was to be able to get into the city. She was pretty vehement about it.
Now whatever, of course I'm not moving somewhere because a psychic told me to. But I will move somewhere because a stranger told me to, in addition to my sister telling me to, and my friend telling me to. Because other than the cost, San Francisco has everything on my short list of requirements. It's a place people "leave to", there's a large population of single people, there's an arts scene, and most importantly, there is a large body of water. It's not too hot. It's architecturally interesting. There's history. I can't think of a single reason I wouldn't like it there, if I could find a job and a place to live. So why not? Why stay for another Ohio winter?
In the end, doesn't one go to people like this in order to get some validation of what you already want?
So, you know, I'm going to start looking into it. And this is a plea from anyone on the West Coast who read this, to send me any leads or ideas or advice you have.
It's not that I don't love Cleveland. I do. A lot. I have a lot of fun here. I just never want to look back at my life and realize I spent all of it in exactly the same place. The momentum has been building in me all year, and I think I'm ready to start making some plans. It may not, after all, end up being California. But it's going to end up being somewhere else. I need adventure. I need visual adventure, tangible weird dirty adventure. I need to explore something.
Now begins the weird time period of things happening BECAUSE you've made up your mind to leave. I hate this part.
Posted by Bridget Callahan at 12:36 PM