ASH AMBIRGE

Author, CEO & Founder

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Is Lifestyle Design A Manifestation of Perfectionism In Disguise? A Self-Reflection

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side.

Normally, I'd refute this, proclaim it an illusion, and instead promote some other tired, overused, pink, frilly powder puff version of ¬†“seize the day,” “be grateful for what you have,” or, my personal favorite, “stop being a greedy, selfish, money-grubbing bitch.

Normally, that is.

Today, however, I find myself on the verge of reluctant agreement with my green, grassy, psychological nemesis, wondering if, perhaps, the grass will always be greener on the other side–on the playing field that is our minds.

There seems to never arrive the point in which we actually take a deep breath and say, “Ah, there. NOW I'm entirely happy with everything in my life, including that weird mole that appeared on my arm, and–you know what?–I don't want any other grass on any other side. ¬†Mine is just perfect the way it is.”

Or, is it the case that, in the quest for self-development, the grass will never be as green as we want it to be?¬† Better phrased: ¬†Will we forever be engaged in an (elusive?) battle to be…more? Better? ¬†Greener? ¬†More luscious?

Now for the twist:  Are we even seeking to be more, or could it be the case that we're helplessly engaged in a fool's battle with the never-ending challenge that being more presents?  Relative to lifestyle design, are we truly involved in it for the potential end reward, or is it possible that we're involved because it provides yet another challenge to manhandle?

… Are we nothing more than mere adrenaline junkies?

Then again, there are moments, too, when lifestyle design is appealing for exactly what it promises:  The ownership of your own time. (Ironic that we must repossess ownership over something that is inherently ours in the first place, but that's another story.)   Regrettably, horizontal stripes & handcuffs aren't all that becoming on me. Neither is the black cloak of guilt that comes as a free bonus, as a special thank you for shopping with the Western world.

My mind then ricochets to a new thought, one that is mildly disturbing, yet reverberating with potential truth:  Could it be that, ironically enough, it's us who are the ones taking life much too seriously?  Could it be that we are so hypersensitive of life's delicate, volatile ways, that we're desperately trying to cling to whatever fleeting moments we've been granted, like a fledgling attempt at capturing a minnow by repeatedly cupping our hands in the water?  Do we take life too seriously in the sense that we're obsessed with getting it right, and making every moment count?  Are we over doing it? Is it even possible to over do life?

Perhaps we are the ultimate perfectionists, radically aiming for perfection in life, by constantly trying to ensure perpetual happiness. ¬†Constantly trying to ensure the best of the best, as we define it, anyway, never accepting mediocrity in its place. ¬†This, too, makes us furrow our brow because it flies in the face of our otherwise free-spirited demeanor–but in a strange way that opposes our unrestrained, fancy-free ways by simultaneously defending them. We are perfectionists about being carefree.

We've got this overwhelming desire to make this one, precious life so absolutely perfect Рso absolutely wonderful, so absolutely right Рso that it truly represents and, more importantly, feels like the life that we would like to live, that it seems as if our endeavors in lifestyle design could be a heavy nod to just that:  Large-scale perfectionism.

Is it perfectionism?

Is it the product of a time-based society, in which we are acutely, painfully aware of every passing minute?

Is it some character flaw of our own?

Or could it simply be a function of human nature?


May 10

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WE ARE WASTING OUR BRAINS ON BULLSHIT (And Other Darling Sentiments)

May 10, 2018

You know those creeps who never drink any water and you’re all, “BUT YOUR CELLS! YOUR CELLS ARE SHRIVELING LIKE LITTLE CALIFORNIA¬†RAISINS!”¬† (Unless this is the kind of thing¬†that only goes through¬†my¬†brain, in which case, welcome to my inner landscape, ya’ll.) I feel the same way about time. There are so many people who¬†aren’t drinking […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired, Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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2012

I Need Help. (Not That Kind of Help, Jerk.)

Oct 26, 2012

In preparation for my upcoming trip to Costa Rica, Panama & Colombia, I spent $258.92 at Zara Chile yesterday. I walked out with three new pairs of daisy dukes that I will inevitably think look better on me than they actually do, as well as a ripped up white-washed jean skirt, and a top or […]

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Jan 30

2013

The Numbers Don’t Mean Jack.

Jan 30, 2013

Hi.¬† It’s me, Ash. Was that obvious? I’m sorry to pardon your regular programming, but today we’re going to talk numbers. I hate numbers–you can go square root your mom. But sometimes, you’ve got to look at ’em. You know…like when it’s tax season. As you may remember, in 2011¬†I¬†publicly¬†showed the world how to make […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

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Jul 12

2016

To the Woman With the Fake Smile: Stop It, You Fucking Pigeon

Jul 12, 2016

Can we all just stop, already? Stop apologizing. Stop saying sorry. Stop shrinking into some small little ball-less version of yourself‚ÄĒyou know, so you don‚Äôt make all the other ball-less twats feel uncomfortable. Or risk offending somebody. Or do something controversial. Or doing all of that and then totally screwing it up and feeling stupid. […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

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May 29

2012

On My Red Hot, Sinfully Sexy Affair.

May 29, 2012

  I’m currently gnawing on a big, squishy, ripe red tomato. Right now. As I type this. I’m forking salty chunks into my mouth as I hope (but not pray–I’m pretty bad at that) that tomato seed juice doesn’t dribble all over my keyboard. Before my current lusty, red hot tomato affair, I was getting […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

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Mar 14

2013

Success Is Where the Heart Is

Mar 14, 2013

He sat in the far corner of the room–no clip board, no notepad, no smile. I couldn’t make out his face–the room was dark and the curtains were drawn. I waited for Al Pacino to bust down the door, cigar in hand. I was seated near the door, at a table, with a woman named […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired

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I'm a Bad Influence on Women

Hey, I’m Ash! Twenty years ago I was a small town girl growing up in a trailer park in rural Pennsylvania. Fifteen years ago, I lost my family and everything I knew right as I became the first to graduate college. Fourteen years ago, I found myself leaving everything behind for a new life in the city where I could be “normal.” Ten years ago I realized normal was the most disappointing thing that ever happened to me. Nine years ago I quit my job in advertising and pursued my dreams as a creative writer. Eight years ago, I built a 6-figure business doing what I love using nothing more than the Internet and my voice. And now, today, I’m the founder of The Middle Finger Project, an irreverent media co. that helps other women find their voice and teaches them to use it to build whatever the f*ck they want to. With a book coming out with Penguin Random House in February 2020 (YASSS, WE’RE A PRODUCT IN TARGET!) I’m proud to be a bad influence on women and guide them into doing something disobediently brave with their life and their career.

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