Monday Musings With Dissy: episode 8

I felt like having some fun today, and I also felt like we have picked on Florida and Texas a lot, so I decided to pick on our home state. The Buckeye State, or, Ohio for you folks not in the know.

Shut up. It’s funny.

Let’s start with some dumb laws:

1. In Ohio, it is against the law to fish for whales on Sunday (any other day of the week is fine).
Has anyone paid attention to the fact that the only major waterways we have are lakes and rivers? Has anyone paid attention to the fact that whales do not frequent these areas? And I’m supposed to believe that lawmakers have my best interest at heart? Was someone trying to break in to Sea World to fish for Shamu? Can’t you just imagine that?

2. It is illegal to mistreat anything of great importance.
Shit… They may want to talk to some or all of my exes. Someone may want to shame them for vaguebooking… or is that “vaguelawing?”

3. In Toledo, it is illegal to throw a snake at anyone.
oooooookay… I mean, I like to consider myself a reasonable person, and I don’t think reasonable people throw snakes, but I could be wrong.

Officer… he came of his own free will. No one threw him. I swear!!

Did you know that the Cleveland Browns have arguably got the most loyal fan base in all of the NFL? I always tell people The Browns are the perfect team for female fans. They teach us to keep our expectations low.

Did you know that, this week alone, we have had all 4 seasons and that’s why we are all sick?

Did you know that LeBron James was born in Akron and is still very involved in the community even though he’s a Laker now? That makes him a good dude in my eyes.

Our serial killer claim to fame is Jeffrey Dahmer.

Still… I want to know who is out there whale fishing in OHIO.

Cent’anni, Bitches!

Hey, You, Listen Up!

If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?

Well, that is an excellent question. Why, you ask? Because I (Dissy) have a unique perspective on the concept of “advice.”

I actually think I’m pretty good at it, but this is funny.

The vast majority of people out there think that, just because they’re tapped for advice, whomever has done the asking is required to do exactly as they have “advised.” When, as is often the case, the asker does not do as the advisor has suggested, that becomes an excuse to bitch about it on social media.

“Well, why’d you even ask if you’re just gonna…”

Dude… shut the fuck up.

To me, advice is merely perspective. It’s another way of acquiring information that may or may not have occurred to me prior to my asking. When I have all of the advice I need, I sit with these things. I stew on them, I consider every angle, I combine all of the advice with my own thoughts in the matter, and I take action. It may or may not be what was recommended. It may resemble what was recommended, or it may not.

So… what would I have advised my younger self knowing full well that I would not follow my own advice?

I think maybe I’d plant some seeds at an earlier age.

“You will never, ever reach an age where you know all there is to know, so stop acting like you’re done learning and growing.”

I actually wrote a pretty good paper in college about this very topic. Don’t be too terribly impressed. I was 30 years old.

Or maybe

“stop taking this all so damn seriously.”

“Let go of what you think should happen and be happy with what is.”

Yes. That last one. We are going with that one. I’d also throw something in about ditching the jesus baggage. Yo, Dissy (even though 14 year old you isn’t even called “Dissy” yet), the only person who will EVER save you is this gal right here:

The person, not the horse. Listen up!

How about you, Barb?

I’m going to be a little more direct with Small Barb because she desperately needs someone who will be.

Dear Me:

You’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of pain by letting people who don’t care about you convince you that your only value is in how small you can make yourself. I don’t just mean the endless destructive crash diets, although that’s part of it. I’m talking about not asking for what you need, no matter how important it is to you, because you believe your only positive quality is being “low maintenance”. I’m talking about internalizing all your sadness, anger, stress, and frustration because your entire personality is “that person no one needs to notice”.

You are a whole person, and you have every right to take up space in the world. The sooner you start, the healthier you’ll be.

Much Love,

I wonder if either of us would have listened.

Probably not.

Cent’anni, Bitches!

WTF Friday: vol. 10

In my meanderings amongst the interwebz today, I came across a little blurb about White Castle doing Valentine’s Day dinners. Yep, that White Castle. The one known for suspiciously cheap mini burgers.

“honey, I’ve made reservations for us!”

Apparently, some locations have a whole setup with tableside service, flowers, and candlelight. And honestly? As silly as it sounds, I think it’s kind of cute. After all, if you read yesterday’s post (you DID read it, didn’t you? 😉) you know a big part of my dislike for today stems from the expectations. A low key “let’s get burgers and eat them by candlelight” date actually sounds like it would be fun.

Obviously, it’s not for everyone, if your partner is expecting something fancy, they probably aren’t going to be very happy with White Castle. Having said that, I think it’s a good option for people who are either unable or unwilling to spend an assload of money who still want to mark the occasion somehow.

What do you think Dissy?

Well, I am devastated to hear of this.



Over on W. 117th street, there are the remains of a White Castle that is the first one I ever visited. Back in the stone age, or, 1980-something or other. It was at least ’85 because some of us in my crew could drive.

One evening, Mark, Danny, and I decided to set out on a road trip to find this White Castle and check out these burgers we had been hearing about. If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure Danny is the one who first heard of it in some rap song.

Teen-aged Dissy.

I’m pretty sure, too, that this was the first time we had all ventured out of the Akron area without a “responsible” person with us. Not that we ever actually had “responsible” people with us.

Anyhow, I digress. Lucky for us that gas was so inexpensive back then because we ended up coming up to the Castle at every opportunity. Two cheeseburgers and an order of deep fried clams is (or would be), to this day, my standard order.

In 1987, they finally brought one to Akron (Cuyahoga Falls, really), and, lucky for me, it was in the same plaza that I worked in. Lunch anyone? For as inexpensive as they were, I sure did spend an ungodly amount of money there.

So, if there was still a White Castle around here, I would beg for a date to take me there for Valentine’s Day. I would rather have White Castle to spark romance than anything fancy or contrived. I’m not sure I could be more in love with this idea if I tried.

I’d say if you want to know whether your love is true or not, you really should take him or her on a White Castle Valentine’s Day date. If they look at you like you’re the lowest piece of shit in the known universe, dump ’em. If they look at you like you are the best thing since the invention of cheese, keep ’em.

Make sure, though, that you hurry home for other types of fun before White Castle works the other kind of magic they are known for…

Cent’anni, Bitches!!

Why I Hate Valentine's Day

Maybe hate is too strong a word, but “Why I find Valentine’s Day irritating and ignore it as much as humanly possible” seemed way too long for a title.

I’m sure some of you are looking forward to tomorrow, and that’s fine. Definitely not judging anyone who enjoys Valentine’s Day. I just don’t happen to be one of them.

When I was a kid back in the 80s, we would give out the little cartoon cards every year, but back then there was no “everyone or no one” rule to avoid hurt feelings. You got cards from your friends, and that was it. So, it turned into more of a popularity contest, where your value as a person corresponded directly to how many of those cheapo Rainbow Brite and Care Bears wound up in your shoebox.

Fast forward to high school, and the school would sell these carnations that you could have delivered to your friend, boy/girlfriend, crush, or whatever. Again, the popular kids would be walking around with whole bouquets while the rest of us got one, if we were lucky.

It would be reasonable to assume once I started dating The Ex, in my junior year, things would get better and the day would no longer suck. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. Every holiday was a Big Fucking Deal with him in the worst possible way.

I figured out after a while that every holiday was a minefield, and it wasn’t a matter of if he would blow up, but when and how many times. Nothing I did was good enough, and it was never going to be. No matter what gifts I got him, how carefully selected,
or how much I spent it wasn’t enough.

You would also be forgiven for thinking he must go way over the top with the gifts he got me, since his standards were stratospherically high. He did not. While I was
getting screamed at for the unacceptable nature and number of things I did for him, I was also getting screamed at for my ingratitude because I wasn’t gushing enough over the cartoon panties he couldn’t even be bothered to wrap.

There are no words to describe the level of relief I felt when Jay and I got together, and he said he had no interest in Valentine’s Day. When tomorrow rolls around, we’ll be doing the exact same thing we would on any normal Friday, and I’m thrilled.

He never leaves the house without giving me a kiss goodbye and telling me he loves me. If he sees something I might like, he just gets it, regardless of whether or not a Gift Giving Occasion is coming up. And I do the same for him.

I have no interest in waiting three hours for a table to eat out somewhere. I
don’t want overpriced flowers that will be dead in two days. And I absolutely don’t want my marriage being defined by a specific date on the calendar. As Jay said years ago, “I don’t need a designated holiday to demonstrate that I love you.”

I dunno… if someone gave me this bear, I’d probably have to marry him.

So, if you have plans to do All the Things tomorrow, because it matters to you, I hope you have a wonderful time and everything goes how you’re imagining it. As for me, I’ll be on the couch in pajamas watching tv with my love.

Until next time…

Cent’Anni Bitches!

Witchy Wednesday: Take 10

What is a “book of shadows”? Do you keep one, and what do you put in it?

A book of shadows is a book that Witches use to document spell work, rituals, recipes for potions, and, really, any information the witch feels is useful to his or her practice. Some witches make their own book of shadows, some buy a blank journal, and still others have made the leap into the age of technology, and they record all their information on a computer.

I use a simple, black, blank journal. I have tried, and I seriously lack the talent to make an actual book. Now, you can also buy a pre-made blank book of shadows that is made to look all “other worldly” right in your local witchy shop. I went the very basic route and got mine at Target. Four dollars on clearance made me happier than a pre-made fifty dollar book that wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I can decorate this one any way I choose, or I can leave it with just the black cover it came with.

In mine, I record rituals I create, I make notes about rituals I attend that someone else created, I stick odd things within the book’s pages, like a slip of paper someone wrote instructions on for a ritual or spell, I write about important messages received in either a dream or a reading, and I write about special times that resonate with my witchy soul, for example, I documented the time that Barb and I encountered ghostly activity at a cemetery.

If you’re in a coven, each individual witch may have his or her own book, and there will likely be a coven book. Responsibility for the coven book is usually given to the priest or priestess.

One thing Barb and I did was we started a book of shadow for her daughter to give her as a thirteenth birthday gift. We included all the 101 basics Barb refers to below, and we left plenty of space for her to make it her own.

At the end of the day, your book of shadows is every bit as personal as the rest of your craft. It is not required to be any one thing or another.

How about you, Barb? What are your thoughts and practices regarding a book of shadows?

I handle my book of shadows pretty similarly.

At first, I had bits and pieces scattered through several notebooks, but, as you know, disorder makes me twitchy, so I got an inexpensive, blank book and started putting things together.

Unfortunately, there are some things from my earliest witchy days that have been lost, so it’s not a complete record. I have rituals, notes about various experiences, some drawings that I felt needed to be included, and small souvenirs.

I also feel like it’s a good idea to put a “101 section” in the front, with basic things like correspondences and holidays. You’d be surprised how often something simple like what colors go with the East slide right out of your head.

Other than that, go forth and create whatever kind of book speaks to you. It’s almost impossible to screw it up, and besides, worst case scenario you can start over.

Cent’anni, Bitches!

Monday Musings With Dissy: episode 7

My cup runneth over…

Today, I got a package delivered from Amazon. It was a birthday gift from my son. He told me to expect it then said, “it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

What he doesn’t know is how badly I wanted it and how hard it was to add it to my wish list without just buying it myself. He doesn’t know how I have had the exact perfect spot chosen for it since I laid eyes on it.

In this picture, I see a thousand or more wishes, and most of them are for him.

This is going to be a big laundry week for me. I have to wash my blankets. They are starting to smell like my sweet Daisy-Lou. It’s all good, though. I have a loving, faithful companion who loves to cuddle up next to me at bedtime.

I think the back and forth in my mind these days is a result of attempting a better path, of making the choice for joy or, if I can’t quite muster up “joy,” then happiness, contentment, and gratitude suffice.

I put some feelings out there on my personal blog yesterday. I think that’s partially the cause of my feeling so good right now. Throwing the thoughs out of my head and into the blogosphere serves to purge my mind and to potentially be information to which another lost soul can relate, and, as a result, maybe not feel so alone. This, I now see, is my mission, should I choose to accept it.

And I do. I do accept this mission. No more basic or boring blogs from me.

Have a wonderful week!

Cent’anni, Bitches!