Busy bees, not bumble bees


Life has been so busy lately, like creepily busy, like 3 months of sickness, helping out a mat leave, moving, unpacking house guests and sleep studies busy. So I’ve been missing it’s true, but missing in action, or missing the action?

Do you ever look around and think you don’t do enough to keep yourself up? I mean, I’m surrounded by morning people. Well, honestly, as I leave later I’m probably surrounded by the exact oopppoosite of morning people, but once I get into the office my life choices are glaringly obvious. And, let me tell you, I am flawed.

So as I stare (glance?) at the girl doing her makeup on the subway, my first thought was, well at least I’m doing better than her…I mean, I did my makeup before I left. Sure, I left late, but I did it. But then, horrifically, I watched her. And I watched her and watched her and realized I never put love into my makeup like that. With a time commitment like that, no wonder she needs to do in on the subway! Take every minute you can get sweetheart.

I mean, the painstaking love to put 2 shades lighter foundation on your entire face, and I mean entire, every, last, inch of chin and forehead up to the hairline covered…not to mention the darker Mac powder that then goes on top…all leading to the lightly brushed bronzer just glazing the cheekbones…. I mean, if it takes that much work to look exactly how you started (she had beauty skin), no wonder I don’t take care of myself. Me? I slap some concealer on the red spots and bobs your uncle.

So, look sunken the natural way, or put about 4 layers and 3 hours into your face to come out looking exactly the same….you tell me. Seriously though, photoshop is the key.

There is no real beauty without some slight imperfection  – James Salter

The Ginga Ninja





If you are happy and you know it, just sit down



What is happiness?

Happiness is a term that is now all-too-well-known by those trying to adult. Emphasis on (trying) and emphasis on the term is too-well-known, not necessarily the feeling. And to that point, when did happiness become the ever-elusive goal of life?

Today a friend said “…well, as long as you are happy”. I mean, bless her, I’m glad she wants good things for me, but happiness was never, nor could ever be a constant. It is not a way of life, it is a feeling, an emotion. With happiness comes sadness, anger, remorse, guilt, regret, annoyance, acceptance and a whole slew of feelings and angsty moments and elated adjectives. But, nobody says, “…well, as long as you are angry”, or “…at least you are annoyed”. These are not feelings that are celebrated, these are feelings that are pushed down, to be avoided, to be ignored, to be banished into the pit of feelings that should not be named.

But, here’s a secret folks, all of these feelings exist. They are all necessary, they are all needed and they are all unavoidable.

But, since when did happiness become what we lived for? What happened to family, friends, kids, pets, responsibility, fairness, justice….what happened to a good old reliable sense of obligation?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying to stay in anything where you are (dare I say it), unhappy. Or to better expand on it, confused, lost, scared, indifferent, depressed or resentful. But, I am saying there are gonna be some not-so-good times. Some might be iffy, some might be only okay, some may be just alright and only at a certain hour, or only on a certain day. I don’t think the key to happiness is happiness, I think the key to happiness is being happy with being content.

So, as long as you are content, I’ll be happy.happy

The Ginga Ninja


The Boogie Man or Boogie Mind


The night seems so much longer

The sky so much darker

The world so much lonelier

When the sun has finally set

The problems seem so much bigger

The worries so much deeper

The fears so much more real

When the sun has finally set

Okay, okay, I’m not a poet. I’ve really never been one, particularly in the non-rhyming category, but there is something about poetry and lyrics, and making them up on the spot that carries a certain charm. It’s fun, it’s funny, it’s sad, it’s desperate. It is whatever it is to whoever is reading it. Art, writing, music, they are subjective things. And though my serious attempts at poetry aren’t as cool as my remakes of’ “T’was the Night Before Christmas” http://www.thegingergirlchronicles.wordpress.com/2012/12/30/twas-a-modern-day-christmas/ you still gotta give a girl a cookie for trying.

The real reason I am writing isn’t to share my simple poetry or pump  my own articles, but to dwell on the empty. Many nights in my paltry little life I have stared into the abyss. I have wondered about why we are here, I have questioned what my life holds, and I have fought against the ache. The weird ache you get at night, where you don’t know what’s wrong, but something maybe is. Maybe it’s simply the breeze, the dark, the open window, the October nights, or maybe it’s night that brings out the worst and best in us.

Night can bring out your deepest darkest fears. It can lead you to do unspeakable things, and think unthinkable thoughts…it can lead you to truly believe you are alone, that tomorrow won’t come and that the night seems so long (enter song lyrics anytime). But, night is also when inspiration strikes. It is when the crazy get brilliant, the genius get sane and the ordinary become, for a fleeting moment…extraordinary. It is when night owls thrive and the creative shine, it is when writers write, singers sing, and dancers dance. Its when the interesting, the artsy, the eccentric and the daring make the world their own. They belong to the night, and frankly, the night belongs to them.

But, all that said, what hit me tonight, was the sheer amount of nights I sat in my tub, and thought deep thoughts. Wondered if I would fall in love, I would find my calling, I would live alone, I would bring life, I would choose lonely. All those nights, those crazy nights (cue 1970’s songs again), there was an empty. A wonder, an unknown, a feeling unexplained, a thought misunderstood. The empty.

So, tonight had me wondering, why do all our fears come out at night?

The Ginga Ninja

The Curse of the Dreamer


Take a deep breath and don’t panic my girl
There is little to control in this crazy old world
You think and you plan and envision all day
You make up scenarios where it does go your way
(What is your way?)
(What would you say?)                                                                                                                                                     What could truly ever make it your day?                                                                                                                                   If you could even get it, what would it be
Would it be freedom, stability, kids or just we
Do you want a house, a pool, a dog and a cat
Or maybe a jet, a whiskey and designer brimmed hat
What really matters, money and cars
Or loved ones, liked ones and those far away stars
Is there a right and a wrong to your entire life
A definitive moment, pure man and wife
Do your actions always determine your end                                                                                                                             Or in your own story, can you be villain and friend                                                                                                               Inherently evil, deliriously mad, endearingly simple, to the bone just plain bad
Are these all just faces, all feelings we show
What’s the real outcome, what’s the real low
Everybody can say it, anybody can think                                                                                                                                   I should be writing my plan on the edge of this brink
(But what if I sink?)
(What if I blink?)
What if I yawn and my breath, it might stink?
So you dreamers go lie awake late at night
Try not to think, try not to fright
Life it is scary, life it is hard
It can also be wondrous if you play the right card
The deck it is big and so hard to predict                                                                   There are times you’re winning and times kid, you’re licked
But try as you might to stay out of your mind                                                           Try your best to be honest, your best to be kind                                                       Know you will fail and that it’s okay                                                                           Just try to remember, start again the next day
Because sometimes you fall and sometimes you win                                       That’s the game of life and it wears you quite thin
It plays with your mind and tricks your own head                                           Where maybe some days you won’t leave your own bed
But keep on believing and doubting and breathing                                                                                                       Because when it’s all over, we are all still just leaving.


The Ginga Ninja

Just goes to show, you never can tell.


You never can tell.

There are times I feel like a crazy person. Times I feel ostracized, outed, unsure, uncertain and just straight up envious of others. And you know what, I have wondered, do you think anybody ever feels jealous of me?

I guess I believed that as a kid they might. They just might. Over sports…or my house…certainly not my parents’ parenting or my ginger looks. And I guess I believed they just might when I picked up and moved across the world, littering Facebook with my uber amazing couply travel photos. And I guess I believed it when my beotchy coworker said “Sorry I’m not as perfect as you” immediately after she was reprimanded. And I guess I believed it when I accidentally lost a bunch of weight and suddenly looked good in a bikini and could rock a small.

But, those are all one-offs right? That coworker actually ended up crazy wealthy and on TV. Those sports skills? Well, they created these multi-surgeried, excessively scarred 70 year old knees. And those looks? Well, I’m still a ginger. And that weight? Well, I gained it back…and then some.

So, why would anybody envy me, lil old me, right?

Wrong. That perfect-post, quick to commit, new dog, skinny bod, wildest dreams come true girl you envy? Well, for reasons you may not know, for reasons you would never know from the shiny, bright, outside Instagram perspective…they envy you. They envy your nature, your honesty, your jokes, your ability to understand, they envy what you’ve learned, or the love they think you have. But, who knew?

And there is life summed up as a girl. We all want to believe somebody else’s life is better, purer, prettier, surer than ours. Nobody feels how we feel, nobody doubts how we doubt, nobody envies how we envy, nobody cries how we cry. But, here’s a secret…they do.

“If we knew each other’s secrets, what comforts we should find.”  – John Churton Collins

The Ginga Ninja

It’s good to be bad


There are times I think about writing. And I don’t just mean the concept of what is writing, I mean…sitting down and actually writing. Unfortunately, usually early in the morning or late, late at night (which is still technically early in the morning) are those times. And well, full-time jobs and sleep requirements and all that jazz prevent me from getting up and writing in the moment I have ideas, probably good ideas. Not like now.

So, sometimes I don’t write. And I don’t really know why. I don’t think it’s that I have writer’s block per say; it’s not as though I sit down and nothing comes out. Just lately, I don’t sit down. I just don’t sit down to do it and odder still, I don’t feel a void when I don’t.

Sadly, the moments I write the most, are when I’m the most sad. Sadness, confusion, introspection, jealousy, uncertainty…these are the things that drive those words. And art. And literature. And entertainment. And almost anything good or meaningful that ever came out of this life.

If you look back in time, many of the most talented, creative, artistic sons o’bitches out there were riddled with issues. Depression, anxiety and straight-up being stuck in those heads tends to be what leads to the best art. And that in itself is terrible. The people who make our joy seldom experience it. The everyday people, maybe those are the people living life, but not driving it forward. The socially awkward, societally-shunned geniuses and the drug-raddled, insomniatic depressives are the ones that add the je ne sais quoi to our world. And what they provide is what makes everybody else’s life better, but not necessarily their own.

This is a conversation that has come up a lot lately. As my creative friend risked it all to start a new business, and yet another artistic mastermind took their own life, and well, I just creep other people’s perfect profiles with envy like a modern day peeping tom….Often the best results in our life are driven by the worst times. And the best times result in the worst outputs.

So, though this may not be the best thing I’ve ever written, maybe that’s good. Maybe it’s good to be good, and great to be great, but state of mind and quality of work may not always be one in the same. So maybe sometimes it’s good to be bad and bad to be good.

Some people are born mediocre ,some people achieve mediocrity, and some people have mediocrity thrust upon them.  –  Joseph Heller

Social Media. Let’s stalk about it.


Me and my new boyfriend Netflix (no offence real boyfriend) have been having quite the affair lately. And oddly enough there seems to be a shit-ton of shows related to technology, social media, paranoia, needs and perceptions.

One of the shows I watch is about bullying in highschool and how technology makes it so much worse. In hindsight I guess I was bullied a bit, some rumours spread, some issues with girls, some issues with boys, some issues with girls about boys and ultimately some very poor self-esteem. Back then the rumours were spread in homeroom or late at night on a landline, if people isolated you, well you just spoke to nobody and if photos were taken you had to physically pass them around…nowadays it can be public, and messy, and graphic, and isolation is proven to you in so many more ways.

But, honestly, this post isn’t about bullying, it’s more about the technology involved and it’s effect on our lives. I’ve been watching the show Black Mirror recently, and each and every episode has some tie into advanced technology and how it does (or could) affect our lives. The episodes are dark, they are creepy, they are the modern day Twilight Zone and more scarily, some are a little too close to the truth.

One episode in particular has resonated with quite a few girls I know. Bryce Dallas Howard lives in a world where “likes” are a part of your daily interactions. And I don’t just mean a part, I mean the virtual equivalent of popularity IS their life’s work, their whole life. Every interaction they have with anybody…everybody…is ranked out of 5 stars. Your rating (think about your own personal Trip Advisor) decides not only how beloved you are, but what you can get in life. You can get a better car, better house, better flight, better price and hell, better man if you have a higher ranking. You spend your whole life obsessing over your perceived popularity with a fake little smile plastered on your fake little face.

Well, I’ve been Bryce Dallas Howard. I’ve been that person looking at somebody else’s photos, fiancée, new dog, new house, current trip and yearning. Yearning over their great career, their new car, their everlasting love and here I am sitting on my couch listening to the Cure. Okay, that’s a bit drastic, but movies, my music, my guitar and my Netflix. And so we’ve come full circle.

Tricked you again, the post isn’t really about Netflix either. Sneaky, sneaky.

Anyway. Did you know there are studies floating around stating that excessive selfies are linked to anxiety, self-esteem and overall intimacy and straight-up mental disorder? In fact, it’s called “selfitis”. No seriously. And though I am guilty of (let’s admit it) #awesome selfies, I can’t help but notice those people that post them 15 times a day. All it takes is 3 people…3 selfies a day can check you into the nuthouse. Read on, tis true.


It also turns out the stronger your relationship with social media is, often the higher your chances of depression are. The need to prove everything to the world is proof that something is missing, let’s call it a “virtual void” to be filled. Fake friends, fake articles, fake comments and fake likes on meaningless posts. “They” also say that the more you see other people’s shining, smiling, delicious, bright, filtered, deliriously happy photos, the sadder you will be….as you sit on your couch…and write your blog grocery list and feed your cat kids. #nofilter #reallife 


And the worst part about this post is that I know these things. I know that getting likes on my Instagram, comments on my selfies and followers on my blog (oh please, oh please) doesn’t mean I’m a better person. It doesn’t mean that I’m smarter, or prettier, or any more talented, it doesn’t mean that I’m thinner, fatter, richer, more or less loved. It doesn’t mean these things.

The sad thing is, I do feel a little bit prettier when 40 people like my new glasses, I do feel a bit more loved when my boyfriend likes my photos (and imagine if he tagged me too, lucky gal) and I do look at other girls photos and envy their lives. I envy their fake lashes, I envy their pet’s Instagram page, I envy their seemingly loving boyfriend who posts hashtag after hashtag about his goddess and their uber perfect life. I envy their expensive clothes, I envy their free housing and I envy their size 4 figure.

So, deep down, I know that comparing your life is the most useless activity in the world, and envying somebody’s need to post everything that has every happened in their world with at least one #hashtagged couple-selfie a day is sad…but let’s be brutally honest, my desire to look in and care is even sadder.

So many struggle with this. We hate online dating, we hate feeling unwanted / unliked, we know when somebody unfriends us, we panic when we think we are blocked, we post our feelings on the bad days and our best pictures on the good ones. We know that more likes means more love, right? Wrong. Those of us smart enough to know it is a mental disorder filled with narcissism, anxiety, depression and meaninglessness know it’s wrong, but we yearn anyway.

Life is now one big photo album of people’s kids and vacations. There is no avoiding it short of having the guts to go media free. But as most jobs are posted online, most business profiles are necessary, online education is a thing, digital music is a must, smartphones are the norm…odds of us going off the grid are poor. So, in the meantime we will do our best to love our lives and remember that the more wonderful things you post, sometimes the less wonderful your life actually is.

Now, don’t say you’re too afraid or that you don’t feel comfortable doing this kind of thing, because guess what? You spy on people every day. We’re always watching someone. Following someone. And being followed. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, they’ve made us a society of stalkers. And we love it. – Hannah, 13 Reasons Why

The Ginga Ninja