A Psychic and her Healing Crystals

I just came back from my lunch break. As I was eating my greasy, delicious, tiny, and overpriced Pad Thai, a woman dropped a flyer on my table and told me that she was a psychic, and I should come see her. "I get a strong feeling from you," she said, tapping my shoulder and walking away.

My first reaction was, "Of course you get a strong feeling from me; I'm very complex." Also, I just kind of look like I'm interested in counter-culture and New Age-y things. I have very thick glasses and a funky (read: overgrown) hairdo.

I do think the idea of psychics is really interesting. I really like contemplating the possibility of my own past lives and telepathy. And plus, it's impossible to prove something doesn't exist, so I figure that if science can approve dark matter, I can believe in dimensions and plains where energy exists in another form. Could the psychic sense that, I wondered?

As soon as I got back to my desk, I pulled out her flyer and read the back: I have helped many people with life changing problems. Why should you suffer any longer?

Wait, what? Do I look like I have problems? Do I look like I'm suffering?? She wasn't honing in on my open mind; she just thought I looked sad! I'm not sad!! I mean, I was, like a month ago, but now everything is great! I have this awesome job, my boyfriend is a total babe, and we've just rearranged our home into a super sweet pad. That's the Becky Happiness Trifecta!

Anyway. Maybe she could sense my complexity. Or maybe I should just smile more.

Sweet 16, apparently

I got tagged! Thanks, Georgia!!

What was I doing ten years ago?

Picture it! Alameda, 1998! Up until this point, there had been absolutely nothing to report: my friends were, for the most part, acquaintances and I filled my time daydreaming about Depeche Mode. School was boring; everything was dumb. Around 1998, however, things kinda started picking up.

I divided my time equally between Drama Club, all-ages Britpop and pop-punk shows, and Twee Kitten's CutieClub chat room. I'd had my first and only kiss (and subsequent heartbreak), I finally had friends and peers with whom I shared common interests, I was still young enough to ask "celebrities" for autographs. My partner-in-crime, Teresa, and I would go to every signing, free show, and event that we could find. We scoured The List every week for hints of The Longpigs or Mr T Experience. We braved the rolling eyes at Mod Lang and brought snacks for whoever was working at Lookout!(.) Man, we were cool. Or maybe we were nerds. I don't know; I can't speak for Teresa. I felt that even though we didn't really fit in with the "older" crowd, we had each other, and I had found, for the very first time, a niche in which I belonged.

Oh wow, this entry turned out to be a lot more uplifting than I had originally thought it would be.