Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Law school starts in less than two months, and I have absolutely no idea yet where I'm going to live. And it's driving me crazy.
I'm totally stressed out about moving away, leaving my home with gf, missing my cats, dealing with lots of strange people under 25, being a big old dyke in a midwestern university town, failing, being disorganized, being lonely, having too many friends.
It's not as if I haven't been obsessing about housing for months now. It's not as if I couldn't have gotten this squared away a while ago. I think this is the reason for my obsessively combing the housing ads, posting profiles on the admitted students forum, asking all my friends for advice, and doing tarot readings over and over and over again.
See, I'm the kind of person who likes to get stuff like this squared away. And the cards are telling me I can't do it like that.
So far I've posted two profiles on the housing section of the admitted students forum and gotten one response, from a guy also starting law school who decided to buy a house. Our emails have never really connected, and I eventually gave up on him. I checked out cooperative housing, and even made a date to go check out one house of seven people. I asked the cards. They weren't crazy about the idea AT ALL.
I looked at apartments ads. I asked the cards. "Hmmm . . . nah," they said.
Then last week, the day before I am supposed to go check out the group house, I burn my face and neck frying chicken for a dinner for my friends. I had just realized I didn't have a splatter guard for my skillet, made the decision to transfer the chicken to a safer pot, and then, before I could even move it, it popped at me. It was as if I knew it would happen.
I still made a fabulous dinner of fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread, coleslaw, and gravy; I just looked like I had taken my face for a drive.
So now I have burns on my neck and one cheek, and I'm feeling really, really attractive. Again I ask the cards about housing. This time the cards are read for me by a friend who gives me an aloe plant for my face. "Disaster," the cards say. "Stop rushing this."
My friend looks at me. "There's something you don't know," she says.
"What?" I ask.
"I don't know," she says. "The cards think you are afraid."
By now I am. I postpone the trip.
So I plan another visit, even though the cards are making me feel really bad about this. "How about getting my own place?" I ask.
"Maybe," they say.
"Is that all you can give me?" I ask.
"For now," they say.
I ask about the trip. "It's a good trip," they say.
I am thinking, "How can it be a good trip if the house is wrong?" But I don't argue with them. You can't argue with the cards, you know.
Today I hear back from the guy with the house. The original guy I lost track of a while back. He writes me an email saying he's been off email. Am I still interested in the house?
I tell him I'm planning a trip there, and suggest we meet that day. I haven't heard back from him yet, but I ask the cards about his house.
The last card that comes up for me is the Hanged Man, a card of reflection. The Hanged Man suggests one is able to see things from a new perspective, and re-evaluate the meaning and purpose of life before the next stage of a journey or undertaking.
I think maybe the cards are considering this place. I am taking care not to rush into anything. I am being positive and flexible. I am keeping my fingers crossed.