Tag Archives: Virgo

Time to Get off the Bitter Train


red_train_by_andrada1349-d30lwleTime and time again I post articles on here that are relevant to me, my friends, family and hopefully you. Sometimes they are written in the heat of the moment and sometimes they are thoughtfully stored away until I am ready to post. Well, funnily enough one of the most recent ones was in a very frustrated heat of the moment, well, moment (for lack of a better word) and the other, I guess I just thought it was a good segway for something previously penned.

That being said, I suppose the frustration I was feeling conveyed itself through my words. Here and there I forget that sometimes friends are following this too. I write it for the everyday man, but fail to remember that it is an outlet to more than just the outside world, but to my inner one as well. Oddly enough, I had already written and chosen the next post, but for my old friend who offered me a pint without mention of children, life or love – well, this one’s for you.

I don’t consider myself to be a bitter person. Over the years I have realized that life can get complicated, nobody is perfect and all we can do is forgive ourselves. I often walk away from jobs, relationships, friendships and family dysfunction with a pretty open mind. Well, at least in the last seven years I have. (I may have had a wee bit of teenage and mid-twenties angst. Guilty as charged)

About 3 years ago I realized I was imperfect and started forming a plan to live life on my own terms because I’m probably the only one who will be around until the end. I didn’t know exactly what it would hold, but I did know it may be difficult and would take a lot of trial and error. I was okay with that though. I was okay with the unknown versus being judged all the time for making the wrong decisions.

The problem with that is the way you think things may play out and the way they actually do are very different. I expected to be a little broken for a while and pick myself back up. The thing about life is you can’t always predict what you might feel when or how somebody else will act. And unfortunately you can’t control your urge to want to “win” at the short-term game even though you know it means nothing in the long one.

When things don’t go the way your little Virgo brain predicted, that curveball can really mess with your psyche. Anger, sadness, bitterness and melancholy are feelings you didn’t expect to, or want to be feeling. Particularly with your new “Zen” attitude.  But, here’s a secret. It’s inevitable. Human beings feel things. Logic and emotion are at times separate. And years later it had only come full-circle. I had arrived back to exactly where I started on this journey and in some ways better, in some ways worse.

I’ve spent many wasted hours upset over things I could not control. I’ve wasted many tears missing the past, being angry about the present and doubting my worth. I’ve pondered why things happened,  I’ve also smiled at the simple stuff. But, in the end…isn’t that what this is all about? Two steps forward and one step back is a pretty good mantra for life.  There is no magic “one day” where you are perfectly content because it isn’t real. You can meet the love of your life and still get a migraine, you can break your leg and still win the lottery. Life is a puzzle, a conundrum, a game waiting to be played and a song waiting to be sung.

So, I’m going to try harder to forgive myself for my wasted thoughts and wasted fears and love myself for making it through with more stories, skills and ambitions under my belt. A new (wordy) friend of mine said that life is like a dance and that dancing is good for the soul…even if the dancing isn’t so good. I think I like it.

The Ginga Ninja

Going on a Manhunt


red puma logoOkay, I’m not.  But, it is the main chorus of a kick ass song from the Flashdance soundtrack.

“I’m goin’ on a manhunt, turn it around
Women have been hunted, now they’re huntin’ around
Manhunt, we all got the need
The one that’s been waitin’ has taken the lead”

I’m a Cougar.  Nay, I’m a Puma.  Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.  I guess technically there needs to be at least a 9 year age gap to be considered a Cougar, or some garbage like that.  Either way, the point is that I’ve dated younger guys.  This isn’t something I planned, and once upon a time in my youth I actually dated substantially older guys, but either way, I have found my last two serious relationships were with younger men.  Seriously folks, last two…

A drunk homeopath who believes in astrology once told me that her sister was also a Virgo and kept dating younger men to feel perpetually youthful.  (A crystal ball would be nice right about now).  Last I checked that wasn’t my reason why, but who knows. Maybe my obsession with Disneyworld runs a little deeper than even I know.

But, seriously…what is the acceptable standard on dating nowadays?  It seems as though anything goes.  I was recently told that 4 years either side is most compatible and I’ve often heard of the “Rule of 7”…this means that you can date anybody within 7 years either side of your current age.  This very useful math equation means I can date as young as 24!  Even I begin to shy away at the 25 and under mark.  Though, I must admit, I really love Zac Efron.  Like, really love. Like would have his beautiful babies love…..

Aside from my love for that condom-dropping Highschool Musical star…for awhile there I was loud and proud with my kitten-nabbing skills.  This was however, when I naively believed they may be flings, or was around the time when Demi and Ashton first got together and showed the world how amazing an older woman can be.  But, he has since hooked up with Mila Kunis, she has landed herself in rehab, and me?

Well, I have found out that the tide just keeps washing away my line in the sand and things aren’t quite as clear as I once believed them to be.  I’m more forgiving of my friends than I am of myself, but I’ll keep looking at that horizon and watch the sun set on each and every day (in this analogy it’s the ocean….get it?)  Though I guess I should have gone with Serengeti or something very safari-ish…cougar…puma…nevermind, you get it. Either way, I’m trying my best to look forward to the next sunrise and the next adventure that unbeknownst to me is out there….older…or dare I say it…younger again.

red cougars“I was so much older then, I’m much younger than that now” – The Traveling Wilburys

The Ginga Ninja

A Genetic Recipe for Disaster


Redhead Recipe HeaderStress. Worry. Anxiety. Who comes by this naturally?  Is it born, or bred, or a bit of both?

Is it the pressure we felt as kids to be the best or to tackle the dreams our parents didn’t?  Is it societal pressure that our friends have wedding rings, condos, dogs, kids…oh, and don’t forget about 50% of them have divorces too.

C’mon, I’m only 50% kidding.  Or is it in us, in our genes, in our star sign, or even in our hair colour?

Yes, I said it, I’m a Virgo.  I am fiercely loyal to my friends, yet I put up a wall. I am an anal perfectionist who focuses on goals and extensive planning, yet….am also a Bohemian, emotional, music-loving, free spirit.  Put those two characters in a room and they don’t talk, put those two in a body and they fight like hell.  Virgos are planners, aaannnddd Virgos are dreamers – this is a terrible match that in turns creates those dreaded words….(shhh, don’t say it)…ANXIETY and DOUBT.

In a show I really like, The New Adventures of Old Christine, Julia Dreyfus comments:

“You put a dreamer and a chicken in the same body – you got problems.”

You called it sister. But, is that it?  Parents, society, successful siblings, analness, perfection, worry, and star signs?  Is that all that can cause you to react in this sweat-inducing, migraine-creating manner?  Or, could it be plain and simple genetics…

My grandmother was a redhead.  A fiery Irish redhead.  A fiery Irish redhead whom eventually went a little bat-shit crazy. Oh, I forgot to mention I look just like her. In her day and age, when you went through hard times, you didn’t talk about it.  You simply topped up your husband’s whiskey bottle with water and turned to your little yellow pill, or “Mother’s Little Helper” as Mick Jagger so eloquently put it.

So, what about today?  Maybe we don’t send people to the asylum anymore, but we certainly do encourage new and modern versions of Valium.  We are spending more time now than ever before (and more money than ever before) on trying to stay healthy and stress-free. Yoga, Prozak, Reiki, Vitamins…in fact, just today I read about pregnenolone.  Oh, the irony.  We are working our butts off to make enough money to…pay to feel better.

I once heard a parable.  A man on vacation came across a simple fisherman with a small boat and enough fish for dinner.  He said to the fisherman, “Why don’t you buy a bigger boat and hire another man?  In time you can catch enough fish to make money to buy a fleet of boats.  Down the road you could open your own factory, eventually sell it off and retire to a life on the beach where you can fish and sail at your leisure.”  The fisherman said, “Why would I do all that?  I already have a life on the beach and fish and sale at my leisure”.  The moral of the story is we spend all this time on grandiose intentions only to eventually spend our money on the basics that we had all along.

So, where does that leave me? I knew redheads had a weaker immune system (Damn You Darwinism) because they now actually teach that in medical school.  Seriously.  But, what I DIDN’T know is that same genetic flaw that causes the oh-so-ginger locks, and the pigment-deficient, oh-so-freckly skin…also causes higher stress reactions.  And only recently I found out that redheads are more susceptible to allergic reactions that can mimic asthma.  So, I say we start teaching those hideous little gingers now now and give em a head start.


So, even though you may feel occasional worry and be a lovely brunette, just remember that genetics plays a part as much as stressful jobs, poor diet and lack of sleep.  It’s survival of the fittest and baby, we are headed for extinction.

The Ginga Ninga

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