Tag Archives: creative

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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It’s good to be bad

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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