#6 Visit a psychic

Photo/MCT Campus

Visiting a psychic has been on my life bucket list since I first saw Teen Witch at eight years old.  I was convinced that when I eventually had my reading the psychic would tell me I possessed magical powers just like Louise from the movie.

From that moment on, the assumption that I was destined for greatness and a magical lifestyle followed me through a slew of fantasy themed movies and books, including the entire Harry Potter series (I’m still convinced the owl carrying my Hogwarts letter got hit by a car).

I’ve tried to visit a psychic twice before.  My first attempt ended with the fortuneteller quoting North Carolina state law as an eerie, annoying warning.  She informed me that 17 was too young to know the evil that may befall me and North Carolina forbade her to look into my uncertain future until I had become a woman.

The second try is barely worth mentioning.  I returned to the same psychic a year older, wiser and officially legal, only to find that she was on vacation.  If my future doesn’t take a vacation, neither should psychics.

The most recent psychic adventure happened a few weeks ago when I set out to complete number six on my super senior year bucket list.

If I’ve learned anything from Teen Witch and Harry Potter, it’s that everyone associated with mystical work wears too many bracelets, creates outfits made exclusively of gauzy scarves and have names like Esmeralda or Nadya.

My mystical knowledge came crashing down around me when I arrived at Carolina Astrology to find the resident psychic dressed in a velour track suit from Target and holding a tiny dog that should belong to Paris Hilton, not a gypsy fortuneteller.  She introduced herself as Victoria and successfully destroyed my idealized picture of mystical beings.

She hurt herself with the outfit and tiny socialite dog (she should clearly have a black cat), but the name was the last straw.  Next time I will Google psychics named Esmeralda, or at least ones that throw a Madame in front of their regular name to sound mystical.

Despite my better judgment, I followed her into the shady family home turned mystic den and tried to ignore the yapping of the tiny dog coming from behind the door connected to the reading room.

She pulled out a deck of oversized cards covered in cryptic images rather than the four suits I’ve become familiar with through endless college drinking games.  I chose eight of the foreign cards and kept my fingers crossed that she wouldn’t reveal one of them to be the dreaded death card.

The reading started out fairly well, she told me basic information about myself regarding my personality that all seemed pretty on track.  My downfall came when she told me that I had always been lucky in life and would continue to be.

Yes!  I had always felt like things just magically worked out for me and now here was a psychic confirming it.  I started to think that maybe Victoria wasn’t so bad.  After all, she did have a crystal ball and that almost made up for the dog.

One right answer and I turned to putty in her hands.  I foolishly began to guide her with incessant babble about everything from my career ambitions to my love life.  I could see her shaping the reading about my confessions, but I just couldn’t seem to stop talking.

I finally snapped out of her tricky spell when I accidentally blurted out, “that’s not what I wanted to hear.”

Victoria made the fatal female mistake of assuming I wanted to mend my heart and live happily ever after with the last person who dumped me.  She was very wrong.

Suddenly, the manipulation tactics were crystal clear.  I should have recognized them earlier, I’m pretty sure she was following a checklist that was in my Intro to Psychology textbook.

She quickly backtracked and changed my love life from a heartwarming reconciliation to a three-year long path of solitude that ended with my soul mate.  Despite her best efforts, the spell was broken.

My visit didn’t last much longer; I think we both knew I wasn’t interested in listening to her lies about the future.  I left with my pockets $60 lighter and my spirit feeling heavy.

I’m still disappointed in my visit three weeks later.  Victoria did not go into an intense trance upon touching my hand and tell me I was destined for magical greatness.  More importantly, she didn’t provide any reassurance about my future.

My hopes were high because the clock is ticking and I’m about to be thrust into the real world.  Other seniors can relate.  It’s a scary time and reassurance that everything will work out is something we can’t get enough of right now.

I guess I’ll have to continue to look for answers elsewhere.  The Yahoo! horoscope gypsies seem eerily in-tune with my life, I’ll just stick with them.