One of my friends that I’ve mentioned on this blog is Jen. We met during the commute to work and have both reached a conclusion that theres some deep sh!t going on with our parallel lives. Same alkie-type ex-husbands, same dating situations and we even look like each other. No, we’re not lesbians. (Love to my lesbian friends, sorry girls. Anyway…)

Jen talked me into trying meditation as a way of manifesting positive blah blah blah in my life. So far I’m just picking up psychic waves. This happens every time i start meditating – just ask The Funtasian – she and I also had some pretty sick moments of psychic weirdness back in the ’90s. I see things, have conversations with dead people in dreams, predict future events and conversations… When I was young I thought i killed my cat because I had non-stop, intense thoughts of my cat’s death – until he got hit by a car.

If I was bored in class I’d predict conversations or who would be walking into the room next. I also predicted just about every relationship before it happened – even if I hadn’t met the guy yet… But I can’t win the lottery.

Today I was in the pharmacy looking for clarifying shampoo and contemplating my sh!tty dating luck when a song from the ’80s played on the loudspeaker. “Here I goooooooo… One more tiiiiiiiiime… Byyyyyy myseeeeelf.” I walked around the store, allowing myself to laugh like a rabid hyena, singing my own words in my best Ethel Merman voice, “This song blooooooowwwws… I’ll be fiiiiiiiiiiiiine…. byyyyyyy myselllllffff!!!!…”

Jen’s also dealing with the same musical madness because apparently the universe isn’t satisfied with torturing only one of us with pathetic romantic ironies and culturally dead songs over loudspeakers while we’re not buying condoms for the sex we’re not having with the men we no longer have.

A few weeks ago, as I hung out with my photo partners, I continuously had mental images of weddings – specifically, a woman’s hand surrounded by wedding celebration. My one partner then told me about two weeks after these premonitions started that his sister just got engaged and he’d be heading out of the country for her wedding.

On the subway today, two women sat down next to me, and all I “saw” were apples. They obviously weren’t really there: Imagine huge sheets of clear plastic wrap with apple designs hanging in front of the two women – that’s what it was like in my head. Huge, red apples. Then an image of a young woman – a daughter type – took over the mental apple imagery. Apples. Young woman. Apples. Daughter. Apples… “Excuse me,” I asked the two ladies. “Would the two of you happen to be involved with apples?” I asked, like a psychotic whack job. I knew I’d probably never see these two again, so who cares if I ask, right? The woman directly next to me said, “Oh I love apple picking. I go all the time.”

I stared at her and choked out,

“Do either of you have a daughter?”

I felt like a complete ass for asking a second pointless, out-of-the-blue question, but I put it out there. What the hell.

“I do,” said apple lover lady.