Carrie's Voodoo Box

Since moving from California to New York, I've kept in good contact with a friend, Carrie, who I used to work with. She's slightly older than me, wise, and, for lack of a better description, very quasi-spiritual. There's a lot of this going on in San Diego -- this self-reliant spiritualism. People there tend to be more "tuned-in" with them selves than people elsewhere, making them able to more effectively interact with their surroundings. Whatever that means. I'd say the phenomenon arose as a biproduct of not wanting to partake in a particular religion (for reasons such as services are boring and the rules are too restrictive) mixed with the guilt associated with having been raised in a religious family, but now neglecting structured practices. These things culminate into a need for established beliefs. This new spirituality is the solution. Of course, I could be completely wrong.

Either way, I like to be around her. In fact, she's the person I went to with my neverending, yet recently ended, guy crises. This is partially because she was non-judgmental, but mostly because she would say something completely brilliant, such as, "If a guy doesn't recognize how fabuluous you are, he isn't worth your time. That, and he's obviously an idiot." You know -- complete idealistic bullshit that was absolutely perfect at the moment.

I've only lived in New York for 3 months now, but within that period she has gone somewhat insane, neglecting all of the cardinal rules she established in these discussions. About a month before I left she started dating this guy Mike, who was her definitive opposite. Small town, inexperienced with all things edgy, conservative, and also, not especially smitten by her like she was him. The red flags raised at the onset, which I imagine is the reason she fell so hard.

Anyway, I started getting crazed text messages from her. Some that were to me and some that she had written to him and then forwarded to me. The tone was usually self-righteous; her telling him that she deserved more, she was too good for this treatment, etc... The obvious advice was to leave him, but to a rebellious individual like her, this type of advice is simply fodder to stay. The topics covered in her string of texts were:

- A messy episode on his bed and his simultaneous freak out
- His inability to understand her, or his lack of desire in that same vein
- Her wanting to get fake stripper boobs
- Him neglecting her feelings
- Him asking her if she could come over for dinner, then never calling.
- Him consistently showing up late night
- Him recently announcing that he's moving to L.A.
- Her making a voodoo doll of him
- Her having her own voodoo box that she consults in times of need.

The last subject is one that was broached in a text message I received from her just last night. I've been on a voodoo doll kick myself as of late - well, at least I've been trying to figure out who owns the one that has been pissing on my social life lately - so I was particularly sensitive to her concerns. The text, which followed her mention of wanting to make a doll in his likeness, read:

I actually keep a voodoo box 4 myself with special trinkets, money, lists of aspirations, treats, and yes, some of my hair. I look at it when I want to connect.

I don't know that there is a moral of this story, rather than the obvious: she needs to move on. But, all things considered, I've never met anyone who owns a voodoo box. Judging from everything that's going on, however, I'm going to guess that the thing doesn't work any real miracles. Maybe it's just the spiritual alternative to what stuctured religions call prayer.