I warned you people that I was notoriously bad about blogging on here. Since starting my tarot blog, it has only gotten worse. So if you want new content, you're best served to check it out over there. New content is posted every Wednesday. However, if you're not a tarot lover, it probably won't be your cup of tea.
In my previous catch-up post (see here) I talked about participating in the Tarot Apprentice contest. I'm sure there are those of you still waiting with baited breath to know the results, right? ;)
Yes, I won. I AM the Tarot Apprentice. And boy, have I been getting my little tarot ass kicked, in all the best possible ways. So if you want to know all the tarot-y things I've been doing lately, go to the following places:
twitter.com/hsparry
tarotspell.blogspot.com
facebook.com/tarotbyhilary
tarotbyhilary.com [goes LIVE on Sept. 23]
See? I told you I've been a busy girl.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Review of The Devil, the Lovers, and Me
The Devil, the Lovers, and Me: My Life in Tarot by Kimberlee AuerbachMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I had started reading Kimberlee Auerbach's writing on thenervousbreakdown.com, so when I found out she wrote a book, especially through tarot (I'm a tarot reader) I was intrigued. My intrigue waited for several years.
Through the magic of kindle, I obtained this book. I read it in two days. Some parts of it are cringe-worthy (and rightly so) but I felt myself empathizing with Kimberlee and rooting for her through her many situations, such as "How long do I have to wait before he pops the question? Should I give up hope?", competing for the attention of a parent, being a parent to your parent instead of the kid, and the realizations that occur when you realize your parents are human after all.
A quick but satisfying read.
View all my reviews
Friday, April 15, 2011
Damage Control for Intolerance
So, Harvard allows anti-witch rallies? Great. Well, here are some tips (if you happen to be a pagan, new ager, or open-minded human being) to combat ignorance from Courtney Weber (reposted with her permission):
Here are a few ideas you are free to ignore, but I encourage you to consider:
Don't point fingers, as in blaming the decent Christian guy next door who has always been nice to you for the crap pulled by these fuckers. Blame the action. Blame the mentality. Blame the individuals involved. Don't blame the religion and its affiliates.
Do be an out Pagan, if you are in a part of the country where it is safe to be one. Be a good neighbor, a good co-worker. Buy the Girlscout cookies and wear the Pentacle while you do it. Make a good impression on the person next to you, and maybe they'll take in of their own accord to educate their ignorant relatives at Thanksgiving about the Nice Pagan Lady at the office or on the block.
Don't be weird and secretive. Hiding your practices and acting shady when people ask you questions makes you think you have reason to hide what you do. Of course, keep personal matters of your group private, but be open to answering questions about your practices. Maybe they'll still think you're weird. But at least they won't think you drink blood of virgin kittens or some shit like that.
Do invite people of other faiths to your open gatherings. Help make them feel at home. Explain what's going on and do your best to show them a good time. There's a good chance they'll go back to their own communities or congregations and say, "Hey! Pagans are nice and throw a good party!"
Don't use social networking sites or blogs to announce your plans to curse the idiot who pissed you off in gym class. You sound like an idiot and you don't scare anyone. What you have succeeded in doing is in making the rest of us look bad.
Do use social networking and blogs to talk about your spiritual beliefs and your community building endeavors. Particularly if you are in an area where it isn't safe to be an open Pagan, this is a great way to help educate others in a safe format.
Don't alienate yourself either within your own Pagan community, or even just within your own self. Find friends and build bridges with other communities who share the same goals that you have.
Do be aware of religious persecution, but don't be paranoid. It ruins your own life. As my mom likes to say, "Don't give out free rent in your head."
Here are a few ideas you are free to ignore, but I encourage you to consider:
Don't point fingers, as in blaming the decent Christian guy next door who has always been nice to you for the crap pulled by these fuckers. Blame the action. Blame the mentality. Blame the individuals involved. Don't blame the religion and its affiliates.
Do be an out Pagan, if you are in a part of the country where it is safe to be one. Be a good neighbor, a good co-worker. Buy the Girlscout cookies and wear the Pentacle while you do it. Make a good impression on the person next to you, and maybe they'll take in of their own accord to educate their ignorant relatives at Thanksgiving about the Nice Pagan Lady at the office or on the block.
Don't be weird and secretive. Hiding your practices and acting shady when people ask you questions makes you think you have reason to hide what you do. Of course, keep personal matters of your group private, but be open to answering questions about your practices. Maybe they'll still think you're weird. But at least they won't think you drink blood of virgin kittens or some shit like that.
Do invite people of other faiths to your open gatherings. Help make them feel at home. Explain what's going on and do your best to show them a good time. There's a good chance they'll go back to their own communities or congregations and say, "Hey! Pagans are nice and throw a good party!"
Don't use social networking sites or blogs to announce your plans to curse the idiot who pissed you off in gym class. You sound like an idiot and you don't scare anyone. What you have succeeded in doing is in making the rest of us look bad.
Do use social networking and blogs to talk about your spiritual beliefs and your community building endeavors. Particularly if you are in an area where it isn't safe to be an open Pagan, this is a great way to help educate others in a safe format.
Don't alienate yourself either within your own Pagan community, or even just within your own self. Find friends and build bridges with other communities who share the same goals that you have.
Do be aware of religious persecution, but don't be paranoid. It ruins your own life. As my mom likes to say, "Don't give out free rent in your head."
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Catch-Up Post
I'm notoriously bad at keeping a blog going on a steady chronological basis. Forgive me.
Usually when I get behind in blogging, I review my last post in case I promised to post about something in the future and don't. In this case, the link to my review of Tarot of the Boroughs is here on my tarot blog. All things tarot-related are on my tarot blog. I am going to update it shortly with the following news:
I am entered in a contest called the Tarot Apprentice. The first challenge of this competition kicked off yesterday. To follow my progress in this contest, go to The Tarot Lady's blog (blog.thetarotlady.com). For guidelines of the competition, they're here.
I am extremely excited about this opportunity! So, once again, this blog may suffer from lack of updates, but for a good reason this time and not just because I'm lazy.
Usually when I get behind in blogging, I review my last post in case I promised to post about something in the future and don't. In this case, the link to my review of Tarot of the Boroughs is here on my tarot blog. All things tarot-related are on my tarot blog. I am going to update it shortly with the following news:
I am entered in a contest called the Tarot Apprentice. The first challenge of this competition kicked off yesterday. To follow my progress in this contest, go to The Tarot Lady's blog (blog.thetarotlady.com). For guidelines of the competition, they're here.
I am extremely excited about this opportunity! So, once again, this blog may suffer from lack of updates, but for a good reason this time and not just because I'm lazy.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Reload the Coffee; I'm Going to Blog!
It is a blog! Yes, only ten days have elapsed since my last blog! This shows Progress! I am maturing already! (until I abandon all hopes of posting in a consistent manner, like I usually do)
But FIRST! More coffee! Hrm. A line has formed in my local coffeehouse in the time it took me to write about maturity and consistency. I sense an evil pattern afoot, a plot to deprive me of my caffeine because I am already hyper enough from the first coffee of the day. Perhaps... I should get this coffee to-go. In the hopes of going home and doing some cleaning to take advantage of the overcaffeination. Is that a word? I guess it is now.
----the above was written at around 2pm today in the throes of caffeine-induced frenzy----
Tonight I cleaned out my ears with a cotton swab and ended up poking my right eardrum. The pain was terrifying, and I'm still shaken hours after the incident.
In other news... well, there's not much else to report. I'm in the midst of writing a review of the Tarot of the Boroughs deck for my tarot blog, which I will post there by the end of the month (in all probability).
But FIRST! More coffee! Hrm. A line has formed in my local coffeehouse in the time it took me to write about maturity and consistency. I sense an evil pattern afoot, a plot to deprive me of my caffeine because I am already hyper enough from the first coffee of the day. Perhaps... I should get this coffee to-go. In the hopes of going home and doing some cleaning to take advantage of the overcaffeination. Is that a word? I guess it is now.
----the above was written at around 2pm today in the throes of caffeine-induced frenzy----
Tonight I cleaned out my ears with a cotton swab and ended up poking my right eardrum. The pain was terrifying, and I'm still shaken hours after the incident.
In other news... well, there's not much else to report. I'm in the midst of writing a review of the Tarot of the Boroughs deck for my tarot blog, which I will post there by the end of the month (in all probability).
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The solution to everything...
... is always chocolate. Sometimes alcohol. Sometimes both combined in a delicate and beautiful combination known as chocolate liqueurs.
When I was a girl (I'd say around five or so) my mother received a Christmas/Holiday gift from someone: a little miniature wine case with little chocolates shaped as wine bottles (something like this, though the crate my mother received contained way more than eight mini-bottles). Each metallic wrapper bore the brand name of a different alcoholic product. One was peach schnapps. One was jet-black with the Jack Daniels brand on it. Each looked enticing. It was candy. Candy couldn't be bad, no way, no how.
I knew it was my mother's present, not mine. But the covetous thought of chocolates that did not belong to me was too great a temptation to ignore.
While my mother was in her bedroom, I sat quietly on the floor in the corner of the living room, unwrapping the little bottles from their crinkly prisons, biting the tops of the chocolate bottles, drinking the surprisingly potent and yummy liquid therein, and then shoving the devoid remains into my mouth. I disposed of the wrappers by hiding them underneath the sofa, one at a time.
When I came to the end of my devious excursion, I was left with a tiny crate. The empty crate was a strong reminder of the wrongness of what I had just done. 64 empty squares stared up at me in accusation.
After pondering my guilt for a brief moment, I placed the empty crate underneath the sofa as well.
I don't know how long this process took. It could have been as little as fifteen minutes. It could have been as long as an hour and a half. But, knowing that my mother would not leave me alone for so long, especially when I was so quiet, it was probably a lesser amount of time rather than a longer amount. Either way, she had some inkling that if it was too quiet, I was probably Up To Something.
She came out into the living room and looked at me suspiciously. By this time, I was sitting on the couch watching cartoons, wondering why the room was spinning like a top. Since she saw no evidence of tomfoolery, and since me watching cartoons looking like I was drunk was a normal occurrence, she went back into her room.
I thought I had gotten away with it... until later that night when she went to find the mini-crate and it was missing. That and me puking up something that smelled like rum and dark chocolate.
The End
When I was a girl (I'd say around five or so) my mother received a Christmas/Holiday gift from someone: a little miniature wine case with little chocolates shaped as wine bottles (something like this, though the crate my mother received contained way more than eight mini-bottles). Each metallic wrapper bore the brand name of a different alcoholic product. One was peach schnapps. One was jet-black with the Jack Daniels brand on it. Each looked enticing. It was candy. Candy couldn't be bad, no way, no how.
I knew it was my mother's present, not mine. But the covetous thought of chocolates that did not belong to me was too great a temptation to ignore.
While my mother was in her bedroom, I sat quietly on the floor in the corner of the living room, unwrapping the little bottles from their crinkly prisons, biting the tops of the chocolate bottles, drinking the surprisingly potent and yummy liquid therein, and then shoving the devoid remains into my mouth. I disposed of the wrappers by hiding them underneath the sofa, one at a time.
When I came to the end of my devious excursion, I was left with a tiny crate. The empty crate was a strong reminder of the wrongness of what I had just done. 64 empty squares stared up at me in accusation.
After pondering my guilt for a brief moment, I placed the empty crate underneath the sofa as well.
I don't know how long this process took. It could have been as little as fifteen minutes. It could have been as long as an hour and a half. But, knowing that my mother would not leave me alone for so long, especially when I was so quiet, it was probably a lesser amount of time rather than a longer amount. Either way, she had some inkling that if it was too quiet, I was probably Up To Something.
She came out into the living room and looked at me suspiciously. By this time, I was sitting on the couch watching cartoons, wondering why the room was spinning like a top. Since she saw no evidence of tomfoolery, and since me watching cartoons looking like I was drunk was a normal occurrence, she went back into her room.
I thought I had gotten away with it... until later that night when she went to find the mini-crate and it was missing. That and me puking up something that smelled like rum and dark chocolate.
The End
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