That is what my title was in the high school newspaper way back in the 1900’s. Life was simpler then, no?
I am no longer a vegetarian, but I’m so metaphysical now, I may no longer be human. I’m kidding. Kind of.
At my high school graduation party, a close friend of my father’s was a psychic who had predicted many of their mutual friends' events in life. He sat me down, looked at my palm, and said I would live half of my life in another country.
Then, a couple of years later, my bestie and I went to another psychic at some random house, a guy who had some kind of reputation. I was pretty thin back then; he told me I would struggle with weight issues in my adult life. He also said something very interesting. He said I would spend half my life in another country. Half.
Half my life is over.
I wanted to be a lawyer at that time, and he said, "No, you will not become a lawyer. You will be some kind of healer who will travel the world.” I just thought he was a quack. I was convinced I was going to law school.
In retrospect, I would hate being a lawyer, but I don’t think of myself as a healer. I have friends who do things like reiki and energy work; I don’t do that. I just write and talk. I usually can’t shut up. Those are my talents.
But maybe my words could heal someone. Who knows? Crazier things have happened.
Trust me, I don’t want to move out of the country; despite everything, this is my country. I know the country that I will probably end up in, if I end up anywhere, will be India. My mother has a house in India as well, in Maharashtra, the same state that Mumbai is in.
I would live in Mumbai if I had the opportunity; it’s like the New York of India.
But honestly, with this recent onset of perimenopause, I’m so hot all the time, I don’t know if I can live in a country that hot. I know that sounds like a dumb reason not to live somewhere, but heat actually bothers the hell out of me. More than snow and darkness.
I feel like I was meant to live in this stupid state of Michigan, where the weather has more emotional irregularity than I do. We are very similar, me and Michigan. Moody as hell and kind of unpredictable.
India, on the other hand, is a beautiful country. Our house is in a suburb very similar to Troy, Michigan, where I live now. The difference is that when you wake up in the morning, you can hear and see kids living in poverty, wearing no clothing, and people living outside, begging for food.
You can see it through your window.
All I see through my window is the guy who raises chickens I once mentioned. He doesn’t wear a shirt, but it’s not because of poverty. I also fear that he’s stalking me.
Image courtesy of Bebeshko Olha via Scopio
I digress… The question is, are these predictions real? I have no idea. My grandfather used to tell me that I should become a professor in India and I would make more money and get more respect.
That’s great and all, but I dated a guy from India in my twenties. He thought he was progressive, but his actual view of women was warped and backward.
There’s a lot of that in India.
Sorry, folks, to my Indian readers. I’m just calling it like I see it.
I mean, women in America complain that men are pigs, which they are, but American men may be the best men out there. It is a low bar.
Image courtesy of Anastasia Egorova via Scopio
I should switch sides, but I’m not interested in marrying a woman because I need to be the crazy one in the relationship.
Ouch, did I say that out loud? My feminist sisters are cringing right now.
All women are not crazy.
It’s just me.
So back to the psychics. Is there something to it? Will I finally get sick of this country where sometimes I feel like a foreigner even though this is my country?
I don’t know. I don’t want to go to any other country. Except maybe England, only because I love the accent so much I could listen to people talk for days just to hear it. And I think it’s hilarious that they call men cunts.
So back to my original thesis, why did they call me the Metaphysical Vegetarian back in the day? I interviewed a psychic for the paper, a witch, an astrologer, etc.
I mean, it’s a slippery slope to that, and now I think god is talking to me.
I mean, if you look at it from a historical perspective, it makes sense. I’ve always been weird, a little insane, and a lot different than ‘normal’ people.
We all know normal is a lie and crazy is a swear word at this point. I know there must be many out there who think I am batshit crazy, just like those white conservative boys in my high school who thought my articles were strange.
I am strange. I am crazy. And I like it.
nina
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