Wonderfallen
The Pixies were singing about Area 51 as I drove my sister back from our last (and, well, only) dinner together. Even as she crashed on my floor and left long, snarled girl hairs in my shower basin, I managed to blow her off both Friday and Saturday nights to spend time with my friends. In the end, I have no regrets. Honestly, even the minuscule amount of time I spent with her left me vastly more uncomfortable than I imagined it would. Her belief system has taken such a beeline for the absurd and yet is expressed with such frankness, sincerity and nonchalance that my ironic tone and mini-barbs are lost in an ocean of madness.
I probably spent no more than four or five concentrated hours with her over the course of two and a half days, yet those hours were filled with anecdotes about how she accidentally killed a pregnant horse with a ball of energy she conjured while practicing her work, how the time when your clock reads "11:11" is a vortex during which you can ask the universe for anything you want, how a lightning bolt once shot out of the crystal embedded in her neck slamming a friendly shaman across the room, how by imagining spending tens of thousands of dollars every day she is opening herself up to the possibility of actually obtaining immense wealth, and how she was, prior to pagan exorcism, occupied by at least two other entities including a perverted old man that entered her during a traumatic childhood incident and was the root cause of her saying and doing unkind things to others. In true older sibling fashion, she analyzed my chakras without seeking my prior permission while I was waking from a nap, the revolutions of a pendant revealing that the only problem areas I have are my cock and my heart, both of which are backed up.
Also, apparently the side-to-side motion over my solar plexus meant I am antisocial.
Over a sushi dinner, I asked her if she had a destination for her current wandering, which was my casual way of inquiring if she would ever return to the workforce. She has none. Her plans for visiting (read: imposing upon) friends and family currently range well into August with no end in sight. Although, she claims that if she is certified in her current craft (this so-called "energy work") she can get a job at hospitals tending to cancer patients (who I can only assume will most benefit from the amusing distraction posed by crystal bearing hippies pantomiming the drawing off and disposal of foul energies from their extremities).
I ran out of things to say to her two days before her arrival, but consented to give her a departing hug.
"Have fun at my parents' house," I said, unintentionally removing her from the equation entirely (fucking Freud).
"Oh, they are definitely your parents, aren't they?"
I had to shrug it off with a grin.
She continued, "Well, you can have them."
And it is that attitude, not some energy imbalance, that keeps the wall around my fourth (heart) chakra. I shut her out because of her, not because of me. Even as she blames perverse alien entities for causing her to say and think "crazy things," I cannot help noticing that their removal, and indeed all the therapy, dietary restrictions and magic in the world, has not opened her eyes to the simple fact that she is a petty, self-absorbed, emotionally unstable person incapable of appreciating the very people who raised, supported and continue to indulge her as her freeloading, thirty-six-year-old, unemployed ass eats their food, sleeps in their bed and talks to the fucking universe.
As above, so go blow.
I probably spent no more than four or five concentrated hours with her over the course of two and a half days, yet those hours were filled with anecdotes about how she accidentally killed a pregnant horse with a ball of energy she conjured while practicing her work, how the time when your clock reads "11:11" is a vortex during which you can ask the universe for anything you want, how a lightning bolt once shot out of the crystal embedded in her neck slamming a friendly shaman across the room, how by imagining spending tens of thousands of dollars every day she is opening herself up to the possibility of actually obtaining immense wealth, and how she was, prior to pagan exorcism, occupied by at least two other entities including a perverted old man that entered her during a traumatic childhood incident and was the root cause of her saying and doing unkind things to others. In true older sibling fashion, she analyzed my chakras without seeking my prior permission while I was waking from a nap, the revolutions of a pendant revealing that the only problem areas I have are my cock and my heart, both of which are backed up.
Also, apparently the side-to-side motion over my solar plexus meant I am antisocial.
Over a sushi dinner, I asked her if she had a destination for her current wandering, which was my casual way of inquiring if she would ever return to the workforce. She has none. Her plans for visiting (read: imposing upon) friends and family currently range well into August with no end in sight. Although, she claims that if she is certified in her current craft (this so-called "energy work") she can get a job at hospitals tending to cancer patients (who I can only assume will most benefit from the amusing distraction posed by crystal bearing hippies pantomiming the drawing off and disposal of foul energies from their extremities).
I ran out of things to say to her two days before her arrival, but consented to give her a departing hug.
"Have fun at my parents' house," I said, unintentionally removing her from the equation entirely (fucking Freud).
"Oh, they are definitely your parents, aren't they?"
I had to shrug it off with a grin.
She continued, "Well, you can have them."
And it is that attitude, not some energy imbalance, that keeps the wall around my fourth (heart) chakra. I shut her out because of her, not because of me. Even as she blames perverse alien entities for causing her to say and think "crazy things," I cannot help noticing that their removal, and indeed all the therapy, dietary restrictions and magic in the world, has not opened her eyes to the simple fact that she is a petty, self-absorbed, emotionally unstable person incapable of appreciating the very people who raised, supported and continue to indulge her as her freeloading, thirty-six-year-old, unemployed ass eats their food, sleeps in their bed and talks to the fucking universe.
As above, so go blow.