Divination

People with OCD, generalized anxiety and other forms of culturally sanctioned insanity understand the mean reds better than almost anyone, I suppose. One way of dealing with this is to become religious. That avenue being closed off to me due to my dislike of being told what to do, singing atonally in groups while sober and getting up early on Sundays, I have adopted a number of weird fortune-telling fixations.



To wit:



I read tarot cards. I've been reading them for a solid decade now, since the summer before I went away to college. I had a friend named Janice at the time, who was a wiccan and therefore a genuine, certified frootloop. She wore lots of peasant skirts and pentacles and had several decks of tarot cards, wrapped up in the requisite silk hankerchiefs and sitting in places of honor on an altar in her room. All of her readings predicted doom for the women who were dating the men she was after. You kind of have to admire that.



I also keep up with my horoscope. I'm a Gemini, which means I have a split personality or something. Half of me thinks this is bullshit. Ha ha. Anyway, according to my horoscope this month, I'm supposed to fall in love. Which I need like I need a case of the flu. I'm just a little busy now, is all. If you could hold the falling in love for about, oh, two months, that'd be grand. Thanks ever so much, horoscope.



Tarot cards and astrology are fairly normal, though, as these things go. My favorite fortune-telling avenue so far is Google. Now wait a second, you say. Google isn't a divination method. It's a search engine. That's what I thought, too! But just the other day, I was trying to figure out what to do about some problem or other, and typed "what the hell should I do?" into Google, and all kinds of interesting suggestions came up. I love Google. You don't even have to wrap it in a hankerchief.