Category Archives: Uncertainty

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

Feeling left behind

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It’s a feeling I’ve had on and off over the years. As have you, and him, and her. And probably my brother, and mom, maybe one of my good friends. Hell, maybe all of them. But, it’s not something openly discussed. Mental health and sexuality are now diagnosed, talked about, named and acknowledged, but feeling “less than” is something still in the closet, lurking behind closed doors, a Voldemort yet to be named.

Well, I’m sure we’ve all felt it. But, what do you do when you feel like others have moved on. And not always in a good way or bad way, but just in a different way? I’ve seen people move out of the city, buy houses, get married, have kids and in all orders imaginable and irreversible. Now, I’m not saying that everything works out for the best, some of those people move back or never even made it out in the first place, some are divorced, some lose their job, some lose their will, but what happens when you feel like you are standing still. I’ve got my cat, my plants, my goals to lose weight, but nothing else is on the horizon. Life just….is.

The funny thing is that is how I always wanted life to be. I didn’t want a neverending to do list of benchmarks and milestones, I just wanted to be okay in the everyday, in the mundane and in the now. And for the most part I am…but get a little case of the “wait for meeees” when my Instagram is littered with new dogs and babies, strollers and renos, wedding rings and honeymoons. There is nothing wrong with my life, but I feel a little left behind, not invited to the old gatherings, not cool enough for the new mom’s cool kids group, too old to party, too young to afternoon tea.

What to do? Do I wallow in my self-pity and think about all the friends I used to spend time with, do I fast-track my life plan to fit into my peers, do I think about all the times I tried to lead that pack with trips and adventures, new cities, new risks, new dates and new friends? I guess none of the above, because no amount of thinking, wishing, envying, or worrying is going to change the outcome. Tomorrow is what it will be and their plans are theirs, not mine. I can only hope that the world I fit into is the world that doesn’t forget to let me fit in. And the world that does forget, well I guess it’s not my world anymore.

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.” – Vincent Van Gogh

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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

The Curse of the Dreamer

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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.

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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

Sock it to me

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socks-with-holesSome time ago I tried to organize my life. I got rid of old clothes, started re-wearing my wardrobe, bought a shoe rack and tossed all my socks with holes in them. I did this thinking that cleaning up my loft would inadvertently clean up my mind. I was at the backend of yet another misadventure of the heart and was trying to keep my thoughts off the ever impending “will he text” question that nowadays, for many, seems to be the meaning of life. To Text or Not to Text, the new moral dilemma, the never-ending cauldron of doubt and a multitude of technological mishaps only make for more confusion than ever before.

I was doing this with my friend and at the time we were having the never-resolved discussion of accountability, dating, what it all means, who we like or don’t and trying to appease the guilts or angers we had with a little organizing…and a lot of alcohol. He was two days deep into a texting marathon and mine was just coming to a crashing halt.

Anyway, opinions are like assholes. Everybody’s got one. A co-worker told me that pride is over-rated; if you want to know, just send a message. Another friend says she always holds out until she gets mad enough to call a spade a spade. Another friend says that her pride is too strong to ever message somebody where wires were crossed, and yet in the right mood she will put up with more crap from a guy than I ever would. My former boss once told me that if she had the balls 20 years ago she had now; life would’ve gone a lot smoother. There is no point in not saying what you want to say because people regret the things they didn’t do more than the ones they did. And that ass that blew you off? Well, whether you send one more message explaining your side or not, they still blew you off. Same outcome. Thought for the day guys and gals.

So, like my attempt to clean up and simplify dating, I tried to do the same for my wardrobe. When deciding between the no name 4-pack or the brand name 3-pack of socks, we decided to go the quality route. Maybe, just maybe my choices would rub off in all areas of life. Funnily enough, those more expensive quality socks? They tore a hole, downloadafter only one wear. Socks, like life, even with thought and exertion… can still let you down.

“Fucking socks. You put a little effort into getting a better pair and there are still holes in them…” – Anonymous

 

The Ginga Ninja

35 Reasons to Give up…or Give in…and Dance.

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Something is bothering me, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Whether the weather (hehe), the fact I still haven’t lost those 10 lbs, my fear over letting myself go in love and trust, or maybe plain and simply that I’m turning 35 is the culprit. There, I said it, an actuality that never seemed possible is happening – I can no longer pretend to be a child, or tell myself I have more time to figure it all out…for quite a while now, but particularly in the next 5 days – my need to be the person I’m supposed to be is now. Asthma, panic, wandering mind…you name it, but whatever has set in is settling in and nothing aside from exercise, hot baths, tears, or maybe some xanax could fix it.

This all sounds a little drastic, 35 is the new 25 and you are only as old as you feel…yada yadagettingold yada…it’s not really that old, when I was your age…you name your cliche. And until right this moment I didn’t think it was a problem. Then again, the end of the summer always causes my little Virgo brain to wander and worry. Cold nights, overcast days, a +1 to that age and even snowflakes are coming. Hell, with how I’m describing it, one would think I’m in Winterfell (Game of Thrones reference for those non-nerds out there).

But so on, and so forth this is life. This is all that is life. And this is a feeling I haven’t had in awhile. One I don’t like, one I don’t need, but maybe one that needs to happen to constantly grow. So, I’ll take a swig of beer, apartment dance my face off and remember, well, I’ll probably feel just like this one year from now. And a friend of mine, well, she is also facing this conundrum and facing it well. In her own right she realized that each and every year you could write a list of things you need to do, should do, should at least start, or at least start thinking about… or you could write a list of things you already have. So, alright 35, let’s do this, like she is doing 34 in style.

“Being a grown-up is hard. Like, all my passwords have to have at least eight characters and uppercase letters now. I don’t think a ton of people are trying to break into my account just to pay my gas bill.  We should be able to have easier passwords.” – Kate, Garfunkel & Oates

The Ginga Ninja

Fears on my Pillow

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11939673_508650149289788_540609435_nThere’s a lot of fear in letting yourself go. Well, in whatever. Go headfirst into a school, country, career and most importantly love. You know, it’s easy to fall in love, not as easy to stay in it. So, let’s hope you break your ankle, because then you can’t get up (get it – because you have fallen? Hardy har har)

Anytime you find yourself in a meaningful relationship, you realize how quickly you dissolve into the other person. You have to start to give up your alone time, plans with friends and family and make the hard choices of where to be on the weekend, when to push for equal rights, when to back off for individualism. How to handle the I’m sorries as easily as the I love you’s and how to vehementaly watch the back of another, while still trying to watch your own. It’s a precious little balancing act, some that only few get right, and sometimes only right for awhile.

Maybe even harder is when you do think you have it all together, that right person, that ying to your yang, that white picket fence, is the eventual evolution of giving up your things, your space, your identity, yourself. Everybody says you won’t, and you can’t even be fully with somebody unless you know your boundaries, but you do, there is no ifs ands or buts around it, and if you want a future, you begin to let go of the past. And this my friend, is probably the scariest feeling of all. Letting yourself go, in trust, in faith, in paperwork, in finances, in asylums to another – it’s easy to second guess and it’s extremely easy to falter, but eventually you need to move forward.

Before long you dissolve into the relationship. First you give up your place, then you give up your taste. Compromising on furniture, clothes, where you eat and then one day you are just an appendage to someone else – no thoughts or no life of your own. I feel like without a space that’s just mine, I’ll disappear. – Larissa, the Carrie Diaries

The Ginga Ninja