Spoilers!

I've generally got a pretty strict "when in rome" policy when it comes to doing weird or unusual shit, which, thankfully, has always gone pretty well, and lead to some pretty interesting (and sometimes downright stupid) adventures. But it almost always gives me something to talk about. Which is why, when Simon, Wade and I were in Sydney on Sunday, we decided to take advantage of a handwritten sign on a scary looking door that said "Psychic Readings Within". Because why the hell not? I've always been kind of curious to have my fortune read, and this seemed as good an oppurtunity as ever. Now, I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I'm a big fan of theatricality over reality, so when Wade and I (Simon was FAR too sensible for this nonsense) ventured indoors, I was immeadiately thrilled that the store resembled a messier version of the Magic Box from Buffy, and after we paid, we had to follow a sign up the stairs that said "Ascend to the Oracle". So far so good.

Then, the Oracle appeared, and I shit you not, she was a seventy year old, one-eyed french woman. I couldn't make this shit up. The ONLY way I would have been more into it at this stage would have been if the door had been opened by this woman:

And as impressed as I would have been, I still probably would have asked for my money back. Anyone that can make Hermione Granger lose her shit aint worth my $25... So, everything was proceeding well, and then the reading started. And thats where it started to go downhill...

Now, I freely admit to being a slightly cynical person when it comes to stuff like this. But I'm cynical with a hint of optimism, because deep down, I really WANT that crazy, blow-your-mind experience people talk about. I was the same on the ghost tour I went on. I WANTED to be scared shitless, but couldn't get over my own skepticism. So it's possible that my problems here weren't entirely the fault of the vision impaired clairvoyant lumped with the task of giving me the upcoming spoilers of my life, but still. I was underwhelmed.

Here's what we learnt:

Travel is on the agenda. Love is just around the corner. I'll change jobs within a year. It's ok to be gay.

Which is all great, if slightly generic, until you realise one thing. I'M IN MY MID FUCKING TWENTIES.

TRAVEL- What person my age HASN'T got a trip planned somewhere? Especially when she felt the need to clarify that it wasn't necessarily a big trip, just that I'd be going somewhere. Like, I dunno, BACK TO NEWCASTLE??? Nice job, psychic sally. But seriously, without a destination or a time frame, thats an unimpressive guess, at best, as far as I'm concerned.

LOVE- She asked if I was seeing someone at the moment. When I said no, she smiled and said "You will be soon". I suppose that sales pitch is more impressive than "You're going to die a lonely old spinster and your dog will probably eat your corpse," but it's still not an overly informative piece of info. It's not like I'm some kind of hideous mountain goblin- I did kind of assume there would be someone in the future somewhere. I'm a single homosexual. Of COURSE somebody is in my future. It's just how it works.

WORK- What person in my generation is settled enough in their job that a career-change isn't at least a thought that has been MILDLY entertained at some point? We're known for being flighty! If she REALLY wanted to impress me, she could have told me WHAT I'd be doing, so I'd know when to apply for it! At this rate, I still have to do all the work! What's the point of knowing the future if I only know enough to go in chanting the mantra "Stay the course..."

GAY PRIDE: I walked in wearing tight jeans and rainbow converse. I think I crossed the "Good to be gay" bridge a while back. Seriously. Loved the reassurance, but look at me. Do I look like I'm struggling to deal with my sexual identity? I haven't been in a closet for so long, Aslan is sending me christmas cards addressed to "Mitchell". Stupid lion.

So, my first psychic reading was a tad underwhelming. It's not that I needed to OVERwhelmed, but just whelmed in general would have been nice. Maybe one or two bits of info that I had to admit was a little creepy, or wonder how she'd figured it out. Instead, I think I just received a stock standard, generic Gen Y reading. Which sucks. I wanted to find out that I was going to punch Winona Ryder, or get a pet monkey, or go to the moon or something. On that token, maybe I should become a fortune teller? At least I've got two eyes- surely that makes me twice as good at seeing the future than the one I saw?

I'm so cynical it hurts.