One of the things I always try to stress to people when they’re working magic is that words matter – and by this, I mean you’ve got to be REALLY specific. As an illustration, let me share with you a story from my own checkered magical history. I like to tell this story in some of my workshops, because it feels like it really drives the point home. Plus it’s a great example of how stupid I was when I was a n00b witch, and I like to remind people that while it’s great to learn from your own mistakes, it’s also helpful to learn from OTHER people’s mistakes.
Teenage Patti: screwing up so you don’t have to.
Anyhoo, way back when, in the days when I was too young to know any better, I decided that a recent speeding ticket would be the target of my newly-discovered witchy wisdom. I had gotten the ticket because I was flying down the highway well over the legal limit — like probably by 20 mph — when I got popped. I’d been traveling from Ohio to South Carolina, and there’s a stretch of I-77 in West Virginia that is just beautiful. It was a bright sunny morning in the mountains, I had the windows down, Guns ‘N Roses cranked in the cassette player, and was paying absolutely no attention at all to my speed, when I heard the bloopBLOOOOP of a siren… and sure enough, right behind me was one of West Virginia’s finest.
So, yeah, the speeding ticket was justified, I totally own it. Unfortunately, I was also flat broke, so when time came to pay it a few weeks later, I was all HELL NAW and decided I just wasn’t going to. I was 19, cocky, and dumb, so I decided that in order to make this $164 problem go away, I would turn to
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