Monday, 1 March 2010

I See Alive People

I have tried to write this post out FOUR TIMES. Stupid family keeps getting in the way.

So. Dave and I have stupid snippity arguments on the way to the psychic, leaving me emotionally drained. There were a few hundred people there, all waiting. And all dressed up. So was I. I totally got ready, wondering if anybody would come through for me, who it would be, maybe I should wear something nice. I felt bad for joking about my dads like that. The truth is, their deaths have marked me forever. And like my sisters, I must laugh at the things that hurt the most, try to take back some power around it.

I sat on the edge of a row of chairs in the middle of the auditorium, and then the psychic was there. She looked the part ... a flowing blue top, white pants, an anklet with no shoes. She was nervous. And flighty, rushed. I'm not sure she felt that great, it must be hard to have a show like that booked and "perform" on tap. There was an hour of readings, ten minute break, and then an hour of Q & A. Her intent was to do do spirit readings as proof that the afterlife exists, "life after life" as she called it. She wants to open people up to the existence and importance of Spirit.

She started her readings. She said she would feel drawn over to a particular person by the energy and her own spirit guides. I willed her to come over to me so so hard. The first few readings I was all worked up - at one point, she made a beeline straight for me. She stopped, looked at me, then walked away. I was crushed. I stupidly felt like I was getting abandoned all over again. Why can't they fight harder, to come through? Nothing is different - even in death?

No readings for me. I almost cried, suddenly realising all my expectations weighed heavy. There is no doubt in my mind that this woman was the real deal .... but I gotta say, on the night I went .... my GOD the spirits that came through were as boring as batshit. Wayne, who was a frickin' mechanic. Died suddenly one day - came through to his sister. It took half an hour for him to say that he didn't really have anything to say. SO irritating. Surely my dead people would be much more interesting?

Then it was halftime. I saw a young, pretty, beautifully dressed woman go up to the psychic and talk. The psychic was doing a reading on her, right there in the break. I felt jealous, complained to Dave, then went off to the toilet.

I may not have gotten a reading .... but something from the otherside was in the ladies room that night. It definitely was not human, is all I'm saying. I ran out, almost gagging.

So, it pretty much was a big letdown. I was bored, Dave kept fidgeting, and I wished I'd spent the money on dinner and a movie instead.

Until ...... right at the end of the night, the pretty lady from the break got up to ask the psychic a question. She was crying - turns out her dad had died only a few weeks ago.

And I understood, that I do not need to make contact with them. Maybe years ago, when I was all fucked up, but not now. Their deaths do not rule my life. I am not broken and lost anymore.

So, it was a good realisation. No more psychics for me. And the best part was, I got to get up the next morning and go to the beach with these guys:



The people right in front of me, right now. The people I can touch and hug and tickle. The REAL men in my life. The men who saved my life, so many times.

Blessed beyond belief.

_____

Later, at home, Dave tells me that he thought the whole thing was a big crock of shit. And at the same time I was sitting there willing her to come over, he was sitting there willing her to fuck off away from us. I was SO CRANKY. Told him he was arrogant and controlling. Told him he scared my ghosts away, how dare he. At that moment, Rocco walks up with something he stole from our room. Dave reaches down to grab it .... "A nose hair trimmer? Whose is this?"

Me: "It's MY nose hair trimmer."

I didn't want to laugh - how dare he influence my psychic! But man, we both laughed so hard. Turns out you can't have an argument and say the words "nose hair trimmer."

____

I am posting every day this month. I have no idea why - I still don't even know why I blog. Maybe because I just like it. It makes me feel connected with the human race. I have a LOT of ideas for posts. Some that may or may not include a nose hair trimmer. You're welcome in advance.

Link of the day:

Let them sing it for you.

9 comments:

  1. Sorry you didn't get a reading!! how disappointing.

    It sounds like she was going to but then changed her mind.

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  2. No you need to WAX the nosehairs my friend. that is the only way they will grow back less. I am telling you.

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  3. Looks to me like you just found a way to never fight again!

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  4. I'm sorry you didn't get your reading, but I'm glad you realized that you didn't really NEED it.

    Nose hair trimmers...heh. How can you not laugh at those? Unless you're using them...then I'm pretty sure all you can do is cry.

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  5. Wow. That was a profound relization that you don't need to hear from them anymore. Having said that, I think I would have smacked Dave for blocking my vibes. Not that I beleive of coarse, but just in case...

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  6. Your beach picture makes me hate you just a little bit.

    I am still beyond my ass in snow.

    Sorry Dave scared away the spirits. I bet it was his manliness...the dads were afraid he would kick their asses.

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  7. Dude. YES. I haven't seen a psychic (I'm intrigued, though) but I'm kinda...iffy about it. I laughed my ass off at the bathroom part. Why? Because I'm 12 at heart.

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  8. I am so jealous that ou went to the beach, I am freezing here. What happned with Rocco's pans?LOL love it@@@

    I glad that ou realized that you did not need to hear from the past!

    I am excited that ou will write every day... you are one of my favorite bloggers

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  9. No wonder I can't keep up with you lately. Posting every day when I can go a couple of days without having time to sit down and read.
    Sorry about not getting a reading. That is disappointing.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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