Category Archives: Insanity

We’ve all had it, most of us live through it. I’m doing my worst at doing my best.

The Boogie Man or Boogie Mind

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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

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Life in a Nutshell or Nuthouse?

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squirrel_600__18845-1431804042-190-250When oh when will the day come where I become that person I always wanted to be? I won’t second guess, I won’t make decisions for the wrong reasons, well better yet, I’ll only make the right decisions and I’ll always put myself first. When will my pride outweigh my humiliation, when will my choices always make me feel good, when will my decisiveness outweigh my doubts? No falters, no fear, no regret and certainly no embarrassment.

The problem is, that is the version of life I was very stupidly trying to attain, hell, I think many people were. You think if you follow a certain series of steps, benchmarks, events, milestones and mentors that you won’t question your outcomes, avenues, wealth or worth.

Unfortunately being human means being imperfect and being imperfect means you will never ever make the right decision or have the right reaction in every situation. In a bad mood you may yell at your cat, when feeling ansy you may have one beer to many, you may text back too fast, you may call back too slow, you may talk to the wrong boy, you may marry the wrong girl. You may make a poor financial decision, find yourself let go from a job, burn the lawn, burn your mind, overdo narcotics, hell, overdo sports, alienate your friends, lose your dog, lose your mind. People aren’t perfect, plain and simple, people screw up.

So, each time I think “why did I do that?” or think that if only I had done something differently, or hell could have crazy-alarm-clockchanged the outcome…I have to realize that life is full of twists and turns. And you know what…it’s not where you land that make it life, it’s those windy passages along the way. The learning of a new lesson, finding a new bar, making a new friend, discovering a new passion, removing burdens, discarding demons, realizing that you can mess up and still stand…that, in a nutshell my friend, is life.

The only road to happiness is to realize there is no Road to Happiness – Robin Williams, A Merry Friggen Christmas

Talk yourself out of it

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keep-calm-and-talk-to-yourself-3Do you ever talk to yourself?

It’s an interesting topic that’ I’ve broached with a few people lately. Most of us know that people talk to pets, curse like a sailor to computers or some even need to talk themselves through the steps of a project. I’ve done a bit of a polling around and it turns out that speaking out loud is quite a common thing. Well, that’s a given (unless your are a ventriloquist) speaking without it being out loud is next to impossible, but you know what I mean, speaking aloud when nobody is there should be one step away from the funny farm, right?

Some people talk when they are mad at themselves, some do it when they are thinking through a complex task and some (like me) say their side of a conversation to a person that has no idea they are in it. The funny thing is, I never know I am doing it until I am around other human beings and suddenly catch myself talking to well, nobody while walking down the street. You know that your crazy neighbourhood has embedded itself, when…

But, in that moment I realize that I think too much, worry too much and probably shouldn’t be living by my crazy self. When I think a tough conversation is coming – with my mom, a boss, a friend, a beau…I think about how it will go before it ever happens. Some write letters, some write it down on paper, but me? Well, I rehearse it in my head…or out loud.

This in itself made me worry about that very head, but the moment I started admitting this out loud (purposely) to5fe8522804692498e327e080f5e2745b others, I was told that this is a surprisingly normal thing. Two co-workers have come out of the closet charging themselves with guilty on rehearsing mental scripts too, glad to know even when I’m alone, well, I’m not really alone.

Some time ago I read that if you were in a bad place, you should speak aloud and video or audio record it. That for some reason, your true self and your true thoughts will emerge. I guess unless you have a steady stream of consciousness when you write, the words on paper may not evoke your real emotion or even opinion. I guess it’s because you are busy trying to make sense of it and make it sound all fancy dancy for you readers out there, editing, proofing, using big words and the whatnot. But, if you are upset, if you are confused, if you are lost…speak aloud and the thoughts will come. Funnily enough, I was watching a show tonight that thought the very same thing…

Sometimes you say the things you need to hear – Grace, Frankie & Grace

The Ginga Ninja

Lucille Ballsy

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Lucille-Ball-i-love-lucyIt’s long folks, but it’s probably worth the read if you need to feel like a winner today.

I’m clumsy, and ridiculous, and things just happen to me. No, seriously…picture a movie scenario and I bet ya that has happened in my real life. I constantly get told my world is like a sitcom and I’m that bumbling comedic actress with poor spatial awareness and my foot in my mouth. And a beloved ginger to boot!

Picture a scenario where you have a fling with your ex’s best friend…and he tells him at the bar…with you there. You are literally standing in a line as this real-life horror movie telephone plays out…and then he puts his arms around you both and says, “Ya, that really just happened”. Imagine that in all the bars in a city of over 5 million people your common-law ex walks into your very bar with his birthday party, only weeks after breaking up, annnd he doesn’t even live in that  town. Break up on New Year’s Day only to have your car die on the way home in a snowstorm and because of that hallowed day there’s not a gas station open for miles, so your tow truck driver and his son dry your salty tears and obviously, offer you homemade chicken nuggets and fries too.

Stories like this just seem to go on and on. Ridiculous stories. Funny stories. Awful stories as long as they don’t happen to you. You eat Chinese food and you faint at the foot of your Asian co-worker, you get a flu shot and almost land in hospital (oh the irony). You tell your boss that he looks too young to have a 14 year old daughter and he answers “I am, and she’s 17…and I was 17 when I had her. She was an accident, but thank you.” You leave your purse on a subway and end up in a month-long battle with a hooker for its return. You order a cab and walk away with a proposal. Even more insulting? A friend of mine was offered two camels for her pretty little hand…and my cabbie didn’t offer me anything but arranged wedded bliss.  Aw shucks.

Not long ago, the funniest of all comedic moments happened to me. Warning, this may not work in writing the way it would on TV, but do your best to make a mental picture as we go. Trust me, like Nike says, just DO it.

I was trying to throw a load of laundry in at a friend’s place while she was at work, but we had partied like it was 1999 just the night before. She seemed cool with this arrangement, so long as nobody was there when she returned, she was tired, she was cranky, she was hungover. So, I threw in the load and headed triumphantly out the door to tackle some errands. Well, one thing led to another and like is life, everything took longer than expected. By the time I got back to her house I figured I had enough time to toss the load in the dryer and then mysteriously sneak out like I was never there. Like a ninja. Except…..it had stopped. The goddamn washer had stopped.

So, like a pregnant teenager, I furtively tried to convince myself it had finished the cycle, but as I continued to pull sopping, dirty, clothes out of the washer…I realized in horror, it had stopped about a minute after I left.

I just wasn’t in the mood to explain it wasn’t working or see her disappointed face when she got home, stupid people pleaser that I am. So, I did what any logical person would do, I continued to load the clothes into the dryer, literally dripping wet. As more and more water sloshed onto the floor, I naively convinced myself I could get them dry enough to still sneak out in time. It was going to work, it had to work.

But, the closer I got to the bottom of that basin, the more pooling water there was.  Pooling, brown, dirty water. I started frantically searching my mind trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. Soooo, I started scooping out the water with a cup, but, Martha Stewart washes her freaking dishes by hand (even with a dishwasher), so I needed to wash the damn cup to hide the evidence. But, there was not a dry dishcloth in sight, so I had to use a clean one and then refold it in the drawer as though it was never used…sneaky, sneaky. To get rid of the last little bit of water in the bottom of the basin, I was going to use paper towels, but she was out, so Plan B, toilet paper, but that was down to one roll too! Plan C – I used her hand towels. These became drippy, dirty little messes and no matter how much I tried to ring them out…they just didn’t appear dry. So, I threw em in the dryer…with the very, very, very wet, still-dirty clothes.

In the meantime, the inside of the washer was hairy and gross, so I ended up using a bit of the toilet paper to clear this new problem up. And yes, once again, I did what any rational person would do. I tried to flush the wad of dirty toilet paper down the actual toilet (can’t leave the evidence in the garbage can of course). However, as is my fate, the toilet overflowed…annnndddd she doesn’t own a plunger.

So, what now you ask? Well, I ended up having to fish it all out by hand and resort to Plan D, just toss it all in my bag to bring home. Still, there was now water at the top of the toilet bowl rim, so back to Plan A, out comes the now clean cup again to be rewashed. Saga over you think? Now I’ve poured toilet and dirty basin water into her sink…so mother fucker, the sink too you ask?  Oh yes, the sink too.

After all this is said and done, it gets even better…she texts me that she’s on her way back, EARLY.

So I go to grab my now not-even-remotely-dry clothes and all I’ve managed to do is cover the inside of her dryer with hair and animal dander. Ugh, so NOW, I’m shoving wet clothes into my bags, using more toilet paper to wipe out the inside of her dryer and trying to use her shower towel to get the water off the floor. Big sigh and heavy-hearted I hung all her wet dirty towels back in the guest bathroom and hoped by the time she went in there they would be miraculously dry.

Well, turns out they were. And a bit discoloured. And a bit oddly wrinkled. I guess she noticed a couple of weeks later. Also, those errands I went to do? Well, those errands were driving a third friend to a neighbouring town. So, as it turns out…weeks later she did go to use that bathroom…and discovered the toilet was indeed plugged. She blamed it on our friend (I knew she would) and oddly enough, she also wondered where her toilet paper went. So, when annoyed she told me that our friend had plugged her toilet and used all the paper, I burst into laughter. Damn, and I was so in the clear….ish.

Either way, as I sit here writing this, tears are streaming down my face. As they have been for the last hour or so….from laughter. The whole reason I started writing this entry in the first place was because tonight I was painting. Painting something for this very friend. And I used oil paint, which I never use. Bright, neon orange, oil paint. The more I tried to wash this off the brush, my hand and out of the sink, the thicker and more stuck it became. It just kept spreading and was becoming a gelatinous mess and in the meantime, a scab on my hand had peeled off…and I was bleeding…and eventually I didn’t know what was blood and what was paint. Soon it just looked like a murder scene…but, as I stared at my bright orange, gooey, blood-stained hand I laughed and thought…yes, a clown’s murder scene.

So, I hung my shoulders, shook my head, giggled and thought….sigh…this could only happen to ME…or….Lucille Ball.

Ricky, get dinner ready, because I’m coming home.

The Ginga Ninja

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The Unfillable Void

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Void stampI’ve written posts here and there pointing out the occasional desire or maybe more appropriately put…emptiness we have filled with goals, aspirations, big dreams and pointless tasks. Somewhere along the way we are all taught there are certain benchmarks to hit in order to lead a “successful and fulfilling” life. Each and everytime we feel an uneasiness creeping up we try to tick off the next box on that list of fulfilling life moments and achievements, yet for some reason we are still left wanting.

I never understood this void. And better yet, I thought it was just me.

In our own little myopic worlds, we don’t seem to understand that everyone, and I mean everyone, suffers. But, to what extent and what emphasis is put on which wrong syllable is often measured by wealth, education and the basic hierarchy of needs. The saddest part of this is that no matter how much you achieve, how many things you attain and how much money you make…you may still have a little emptiness sitting in your stomach that you just can’t explain.

And this, my friends, is called the human condition.

For some reason our brains are hardwired to want to reach some sort of next step, next need, next want. If we don’t know what that is, sometimes we try to shake things up with a new degree, new career, new spouse, new car or even a new country. But, the bottom line is that no matter how many times we change it up, we can’t outrun it. The best version of ourselves is always just out of reach.

There are too many articles out there about happiness, anxiety, the meaning of life, self-help and self-worth for this epiphany to come to me and me alone. When are people happy?  Well, if we look at the study of psychology, this is all people have been talking about for centuries. The world’s greatest minds have been trying to decipher the meaning of life since the beginning of time, so what made any one of us think we were so special?

I finally understand, I’m not.Red_Void_by_Gaurdian

But, I also understand that this feeling most likely isn’t going away. When it creeps up after a big night of drinking, a breakup, looking at bank statements or being bored at your job…you need to accept it’s part of you, it’s part of life and there will always be more to have, to be, to want. All you can do is try your best to dull the ache, soften the voice, follow your dreams and realize that you are exactly the same as everyone else. The human condition is a condition indeed.

Mark Manson, a favourite of mine, explains it and explains it well. Stop trying to attain happiness and just try to learn acceptance. Pleasure is mistaken for happiness, and achievements mistaken for worth. Trust me when I say, it’s not always worth it. http://markmanson.net/stop-trying-to-be-happy#sxjbVV:6Q9y

The Ginga Ninja

 

 

Just because there’s a Way, doesn’t always mean there’s a Will

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robin-williams

Not too long ago a very talented man took his own life. The loss of Robin Williams and the outpouring of opinion in the days following got me thinking. Strangely, I heard the song “This Life” by Edward Sharpe (a very sad and depressive take on life), then “If you want to be happy” by Jimmy Soul, followed by “I guess that’s why they call it the blues” by Elton John. It made me realize how juxtapositioned this compliation of songs were…completely and utterly on the opposite ends of the spectrum. – like life?

This brought me to a bit of a controversial topic. Like Voledmort, it’s awkward to use the word, but for lack of the real one, let’s say…Self-induced Death.

Suicide is a tricky topic. Because even though I have a knack for turning the bad into good, the lost into lessons and the sad into funny, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been down. I think if anything this proves that I have. As have you. And her. And him. And his mom. Maybe even his dog. Or hamster.

But, more seriously…it’s a topic that I’ve kind of always understood. And that in itself has sometimes made me misunderstood. For reasons we won’t discuss, I was introduced to it from a young age. And unlike all of the people around me…I was never angry. I was empathetic. But, no matter how down I got or how mad I was at the world, I knew this was an avenue I would most likely never walk down because it would kill my parents, not to mention my chance at a future, not to mention well…myself.

It’s a shame, when somebody takes themselves out an inning too early – everyone on the outside feels that things could have still changed; the hail mary pass, the over-the-fence homerun, the last minute touchdown. But, what if they couldn’t…really…truly.

Life is a big old rollercoaster of ups and downs and hopefully the ups outnumber the downs, but what if you never feel your ups all the way and the downs more than you should? I have definitely felt downs that were unwarranted and extreme…in my family, we call this Situational Depression and there are a number of medicated comics amongst us. Life is hard, alcohol is harder? (Hardy, hard, har)

But, turns out some of the hard stuff has brought me to a better place…lifestyle, diet, acceptance of faults and realizations of the world have led me down the path where I want to know more is coming. But there were nights, so many nights where I didn’t know if there was more. And I wished time away because I didn’t want to know.

Well, what happens if it isn’t 17 years of ups and downs, or 12 years of increasing health issues. What if it is a lifetime. What if it is medication, padded walls or voices in your head. What if you had all you ever wanted and still barely managed to get out of bed each and every day? At what point do we stop calling these people selfish and start to realize that they have held on for us. For you. For him. For her. For me. These people who were in so much pain that they couldn’t see a happy ending held out for as long they could in a world they didn’t love, so that they didn’t hurt the people that loved them. Sometimes they aren’t trying to hurt anyone, but they can no longer keep hurting themselves.

You are dying since the day you are born. Sure, walking off the court early is cheating the game of life, but it’s going to happen eventually whether we want it to or not. So, give sympathy, give empathy, give support, but please don’t ever give in to your anger.

“This Life”

I’ve been trying to pretend
That death is my friend
Oh, this life
Yes, this life ain’t for me now

I’ve been lying to myself
Not to nobody else
Oh, this life
Yes, this life ain’t for me now

LIAR
I’m telling the truth to y’all
HIGHER
Gonna give a little proof to y’all
HIGHER
I’m gonna jump in the fire

Well I walked into black
Said I weren’t coming back
Saw my angel in blue
She tell me “This life ain’t for you”
Oh, this life
Tell it to me – this life ain’t for me now

I woke up feeling new
‘Cause now I know this life is for you
Yes, this life
Oh, this life ain’t for me now
It’s for you!

The Ginga Ninja

Lose your Keys, Lose your Mind

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e3a60c0cfa92ffd6a76ee790d593db35I heard something funny recently. You know how people lose something and then they search for days and finally find it…often you hear them exclaim, “Augh. It’s always in the last place I looked!” Well, hello, Einstein…OF COURSE it’s the last place you looked.  If you found it, why would you keep searching?

When I heard that I gave a little giggle.  I never thought of it like that…and yet, how many times have I heard that announced when the precious item is at last discovered?  Well, I am that genius today…and many days.  I am completely, 110% guilty of misplacing things.  I always have more than one thing on my mind…so when it comes time to put something down, I truly put it down.  I rarely think about where, when, in what room or what state. I figure that you can only strive for perfection in so many areas and elsewhere something has got to give.  For me, losing things is my something, but whether it’s my keys or my mind is usually the real question. Amen to that.

The Ginga Ninja