I always wanted to be the woman with the white floppy hat.

The one with the easy laugh, where time had not made her older, but all the more delightful.

The one who carries a basket of strawberries wherever she goes, the one who frolics in fountains, the one who holds his gaze just a little too long, who doesn’t care if her hair gets wet in the rain, and whose signature scent is mystery–the straight up parfum version.

For the record, more people should carry baskets of strawberries, don’t you think?

The woman with the white floppy hat knows her likes and her dislikes, as well as her great loves–and never apologizes for any of it. She radiates don’t-give-a-damn bravado, while at the same time, manages to be elegant, ladylike, and effortlessly cool.

She can have a temper, however, because all great women also have their fire. And with good reason, because these kinds of women have their convictions about things. They’ve drawn their lines, they’ve taken their stands, they’ve dug up the unapologetic confidence to embrace their beliefs–the ones that make them who they are.

I recently posted a quote up on the TMFproject Facebook page that said:

Would Cleopatra have become a legend if she doubted her beauty and power?

And as I read that quote, I thought of my woman with the white floppy hat.

The one who’s only a figment of my imagination, but who is always whispering into my ear, lulling me to lean into life just a little bit more.

::  It’s because of her that I started my first copywriting company, without enough money in the bank to do so.

::  It’s because of her that I found the nerve to leave the house, the relationship and the stability I built, in a comfy development in Philadelphia–in favor of my pleading heart, begging me to GROW.

::  It’s because of her that I first left on a whim for both Costa Rica and later Chile, not knowing who or what I would find there.

::  It’s because of her that I started TMFproject–this site–almost four years ago.

::  It’s because of her that I dropped everything and pirouetted across the United States in a two-door car with nothing but my music and my gumption.

::  It’s because of her that I found my strength again after The Mexican.

::  It’s because of her that, the following year, I showed up to live in a never-before-seen apartment in Barcelona to live with people I’d never-before-met or talked to–and ended up rekindling a romance with a Spaniard I once met in London, many years earlier.

::  It’s because of her that I then took the money that friends are putting down on houses and spending on car payments, and instead, went with Kyle to France. To Patagonia. To Ecuador. And soon, Colombia. (Click on those links for scandalous photos of us at each place.)

::  And weaved throughout it all, it’s because of her that I love when I am not sure I should, and love even more when I am sure I shouldn’t.

::  It’s because of her that I’ve learned to have faith in the process. Faith in the unknown. And faith in knowing that when I put my mind to something, I will succeed.

::  It’s because of her that I survived.

::  It’s because of her that today I thrive.

:: And it’s even because of her that I sometimes work far too less, and attend happy hour far too much (that troublesome bitch), because at my god damn funeral, I don’t want them to remember what I did; I want them to remember who I was. The laughter, the good spirits (no pun intended), the connection we had, and the way we felt ALIVE.

It is she who guides me.

Who helps me remember to only do the things that would make me proud of my future self; the future self who carries strawberries, and few regrets.

I’d say I can’t wait to meet her.

Except I know that, deep down, she’s already arrived.

Minus the floppy hat, of course–those bitches were on backorder.

-Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver

Hi, it’s me.

I’m drinking wine. (Shooocccckkkkeeeer!)

I’m also listening to my sweet, sweet man voice in an interview I recently gave that addresses that big, fucking looming question we’re all wandering around asking ourselves: Is this it?

What do you do when that question pops up?

What do you do when it’s not what it’s cracked up to be?

What do you do when you feel like a big, naked butthead of an orangutang?

(Officially the only place on all of this website where I have ever written the word butthead.)

(I don’t even like that fucking word.)

Dare you to listen to it.

http://livingformonday.com/podcast/ashley-ambirge/

It’s free.

Your mom?

Love and a slap on the ass,

That girl with the purple teeth who you either hate or love but can’t figure out why.

P.S. Aspiring copywriters -  missed out on the last workshop? Want in for next time? Click here to let me know so I can ring you up and say HIIIIIII when the time comes. Or just click to see all the pretty testimonials! Because they make me h-h-h-happy.

So, I had this grand epiphany the other day.

You see, I’ve always wanted a pet peeve. Everyone’s got a pet peeve. At least one. But me? Not so much. I’ve never really had a solid pet peeve of my own, which has clearly left me feeling pretty deprived.

I mean, what kind of a person doesn’t have a pet peeve? A nice person, maybe, but we all know I’m not a nice person. Nice people are only called nice people because no other adjectives come to mind, and when that’s the case, I’ve got news: You’re not a nice person. You’re a dreadfully boring person.

And I’d almost rather be called anything else but nice. But that’s besides the point. Stop distracting me.

Anyway, back to pet peeves, and the fact that I haven’t had any up until now.

Sure, polka dots annoy me. Ditto for people who leave egg yolk on their plate without rinsing it, so then when the person doing the dishes finds it, it’s caked on like super glue. I HATE THOSE PEOPLE. They’re lucky I don’t hide a machine gun underneath the sink.

But none of those things are things I’d categorize as a pet peeve, per se. (On second thought, the egg thing should probably go on the list.)

However, the epiphany of today is that–holy smokes–I do have a pet peeve! I just couldn’t put my finger on it all these years.

Wanna know what it is? Do ya, do ya, do ya?

Of course you do. That’s why you’re still reading.

My pet peeve is one that you and I probably share–whether you realized it yet or not.

It’s this: Lack. Of. Options.

Think about it. It’s why you’re contemplating starting your own online business, or why you’ve already started. When it comes down to it, that’s it, isn’t it? For option’s sake.

Most people instinctively quote the reason as freedom. But freedom is really open-ended. Too open-ended. Realistically, you already have freedom. Technically, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, whether it feels that way or not. That’s not to say there won’t be consequences, of course, but strictly speaking, consequences are irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that you have freedom already.

But having freedom isn’t the same as having options.

Freedom doesn’t always give you power. There’s nothing guaranteed when you have freedom.

Options, on the other hand, does imply power. It does imply some degree of viability. Options imply freedom, yes, but on the same token, they also imply potential. Options imply a positive outcome. Options imply some sort of guarantee that no matter which one you choose, things will turn out okay.

And that’s the best position to be in of all.

One where you’re calling the shots.

Having a lack of options is a precariously pissy situation to be in.

That’s my pet peeve, and with good reason.

When you don’t have options, you don’t have any control. And when you don’t have control, you don’t have a life–just the illusion of one.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my options open.

Options to work how I want, doing what I want, where I want. Options to live in whichever country I please. Options to sleep in if I need to, work late when I need to, or not work at all if I need to. Options to do what matters more, and do less of what doesn’t. Options to take care of what needs to be taken care of, options to help those who need it, and options to buy the expensive tube of lip gloss if I damn well please.

Options to exercise my creativity as much as I desire.

Options to experiment.

Options to play.

Options to discover.

Options to be ME, as much as I can be, and have the world embrace it. (And, in many cases, even pay me for it.)

Options to listen to my soul. Options to follow my instincts. Options to play by the rules….or options to not.

And options to live in ways that I deem most fulfilling.

There’s something to be said about the ability to live in ways you find fulfilling.

Not what your boss finds fulfilling.

Or what the rest of society finds fulfilling.

But what you find fulfilling.

It can also be really scary, too, because having those options means that not only do you have choice, you also have a new sense of responsibility.

To yourself.

To make the right calls. And choose the right way. And live up to your own expectations.

Yet, having the option to do so–scary as it may be–is still so worth it.

After all, if you don’t take responsibility your own fulfillment…who will?

Certainly not those assholes leaving the egg yolk on the plate.

And certainly not me.

After all, I’m not a nice person.

I’m a mover. I’m a shaker. And I’m here to slap you around a little, spin you in circles, sit your ass down, and help you to see that you’re not a nice person, either.

There’s so many better adjectives to describe you.

So many adjectives–and, by extension, advantages–you can use to discover your own options.

Because that, truly, is a gift.

Options.

Remember:  Freedom doesn’t always lead to options. But options, on the other hand, always lead to freedom.

Know the difference.

And then do something about it.

P.S. If you need a place to start, read this post. That should help light a fire under your ass.

This.

This is why I do what I do.

Just got these two emails in a row, and I wanted to share, because it’s uplifting for me, and I hope I can encourage and inspire you to do your own best work…so you can get your inbox flooded with these things, too.

It feels AMAZING. Amazing as in the light-headed, luscious feeling you used to get when you had that crush on that neighborhood boy. Or girl. Or your best friend’s older sister or brother. The moment you’d see them, you’d be overwhelmed with this sense that nothing else in the whole world mattered at all. 

Just. Them.

And that, right there, is how I feel about my business, and all of the amazing folks that hang out here at TMFproject.

Thank you.

I hope that reading the emails below helps inspire you to continue doing your best work.

Do not fucking slack off, my sweet darling. There is much in store for you. You were meant for more.

You’ve got this.

The risk is part of your genius.

Speaking of fucking, expect a wild TMFBOMB video coming later this week. I drop the F-bomb more than any fine young lady should, and it’s because of a homeless man.

Stay tuned.

Wanna book a One Night Stand for March?

We’re almost all booked up! (And I won’t be doing One Night Stands for the first three weeks in April, as I’ll be on vacation in Belize. I know, I know. I just got back to the United States. But, hey–do you blame me? Yes. There’s a boy. Shhhhhhh.)

Click here to view the booking calendar.  Click around on each day to view availability.

Click here to read more about what a One Night Stand entails.

The best part? I’ve restructured the One Night Stand format, so now you don’t need to be available for the whole block of time, waiting on me. Now, we’ll hop on a call, discuss your biz, laugh a lot (maybe snort), and then I turn something around to you in 1-2 business days for your review + feedback. This way, I can ensure the quality of my work, and you can relax doing your own thing…knowing your business is getting all sorts of revved, jacked and polished to SHINE in the meantime.

To your sweet, sweet success, laced in cherry liquor and lace,

Ash

You know you can choose, right?

I’m not sure if we’ve forgotten this, or if it’s just too scary. Or maybe, just maybe, because it’s too scary, we prefer to forget.

CHOICE.

It’s scary because it implies pressure–the pressure to make the right choice.

It’s scary because it implies consequence–the consequences that will happen if you don’t.

But most of all, it’s scary because it implies control–control over our lives and what the hell happens next.

But despite what they tell you, in general, people don’t want control.

They don’t want control, because they don’t want the responsibility of control.

More choice = more control = more responsibility.

We’ll get back to that in a minute.

Molly from Stratejoy asked me to write a post on determination, as a part of her greater blog post series happening around the web called The ABC’s of Self-Love.

She told me I’d be the perfect person to write about it.

So I took a step back, curtsied, and said I’d be happy to…while secretly walking away thinking, “oihweapghigb3ugbpoqjwfngbueowj.” Or some approximation of that.

Immediately afterward, my next thought was, “What on EARTH am I going to say about determination that, a) You care about, b) I care about, c) Hasn’t already been said 39,000 times, or d) Doesn’t sound woo woo?”

So where does that leave me?

I’ll tell you where.

It leaves me writing a blog post that isn’t about determination.

Here’s why:

After I thought about it for a few days, I decided that the concept of determination is too abstract and feel-good to wax on about, or tell some bullshit inspirational story about how I was soooooooooo determined, and–look, ma!–determination worked for me!

*insert grinning, 8 year old red-head with freckles and missing front teeth*

Because I don’t think that’s true.

I don’t think determination is the answer.

I don’t think that “if you’re just determined enough, you can accomplish anything.”

If I had to guess, I’d guess a marketer came up with that.

Frankly, there are just too many variables involved in creating success, and determination is only one small fraction of those.

Yet, people still like to believe that with enough determination, you can produce success, as if there were a straight line from point A to point B.

They like the idea of determination = success because it’s deceptively simple.

They like the idea of determination = success because it’s hopeful.

They like the idea of determination = success because it allows them to believe that they’ve got a fighting chance against those who are better positioned than them, better equipped than them, or with more useful skill sets than them (among others).

And there’s comfort in that.

Because, at the very least– independent of the actual outcome–we can always say we tried.

So I don’t want to talk about determination, because you’re better than that.

(Says she who just wrote a bunch of paragraphs all about determination.)

I’m not saying that determination isn’t necessary, or that it isn’t useful–I just don’t think it applies as much to success as we’d like it to, nor do I think it applies to self-love as much as we’d like it to, either. (Since that’s what this post is really suppose to be about.)

In neither case is determination the hero many hope it’ll be.

That’s the bad news.

The good news, on the other hand, is that there is a hero involved, and guess what? That’s right. It’s you, my friend. And not in a fluffy, self-help way, either.

IT. IS. YOU.

Which brings me back to my initial discussion around choice + responsibility.

Want success? Make more decisions, choose more often, gain more control, and then take responsibility over your success. Period.

Want to care for yourself better? Make more decisions, choose more often, gain more control, and then take responsibility over yourself. Period.

Here, when I say make more decisions and choose more often, I’m referring to the fact that we *do* have a choice.

We have choices every day.

Choices that many of us seem to forget ever existed.

We let society choose for us.

We let our family choose for us.

We let our spouse choose for us.

We let our circumstances choose for us.

We let our beliefs choose for us.

We let our faith choose for us.

We let our past experiences choose for us.

We let the present moment choose for us.

Hell, we even let the bald guy selling us a pizza and a Mountain Dew choose for us.

We let anyone and everyone choose for us–so long as that person isn’t actually US.

No wonder we feel unsuccessful. No wonder we lack self-love.

We put our destiny in the hands of anyone who’ll take it.

But on the other hand, when you knock off the bullshit, and choose to choose–when you take responsibility for WHO YOU ARE and WHAT YOU WANT and WHERE YOU’RE GOING and ON WHOSE TERMS–you can’t help but be successful, and you can’t help but love yourself just a little bit more.

I suppose one might define that as being determined.

But here’s the thing: When that happens, you aren’t just being determined.

You’re being deliberate.

And it may be worth noting the difference.

****************************************

This Blog Crawl of Self-Love is hosted by Molly Mahar of Stratejoy. She believes in the transformational power of truly adoring ourselves and so do I. (Usually. If I’m not drunk and angry.) Find out more about The ABC’s of Self Love Blog Crawl + Treasure Hunt here. No, seriously. Fucking go.