ASH AMBIRGE

Author, CEO & Founder

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The Greatest Form of Suffering of All: Inaction

In: Finding Your Voice

Once upon a time, I was feeling stuck.

If my suspicions are correct, many of you reading this might feel the same way right now.

You can't get motivated.

You aren't excited about anything.

You're tired all of the time.

Lifeless. Indifferent. Apathetic.

You've stopped caring—about yourself, about your goals, about the things you used to.

You weren't always this way; at one time, you were optimistic, driven, determined, confident and generally happy with the direction your life was going.

And then it happened.

One minute you were doing pirouettes all over life's dance floor; the next, you're plopped on the sidelines, watching with bitter remorse as you witness others have the spotlight.

You know that all you have to do is hoist yourself up off of the wooden floor, strap on your ballet shoes and force yourself back onto the floor.

But you can't.

You don't know why, but you feel weighed down by something.

It's as if there's a secret ball and chain attached to your tailbone, and every time you try to get up, the force of gravity is too much for you to bear.

And so you sit on the floor.

Wondering if you'll ever get back up. Wondering if you'll ever dance like you used to. And thinking that maybe, just maybe, if someone were to give you a helping hand, you might be able to at least stand.

But no one comes to your rescue, which disheartens you even more.

You realize that it's all up to you.

You just don't know if you're up for the fight.

So you sit on the floor some more.

And maybe you cry. And maybe you get mad. And maybe you try to forget about it altogether, and just make peace with a life sitting on the floor.

Not everybody dances, you tell yourself.  As a matter of fact, most people don't dance—most people sit on the floor.

This comforts you. You decide that if everyone's sitting out, then sitting out can't be that bad.  It is easier, after all.  You expend so much less energy.  And—look on the bright side—now you'll never have blisters again, you muse.

There's just one eensy, weensy problem with sitting out the rest of your life:

You want to dance.

May 27

2014

Do You Have Chickenshititis?

May 27, 2014

I have a friend named Melissa. (Yes, I have friends.) Melissa doesn’t have a job. She spent her twenties and thirties working for other people as a professional headhunter–(am I obligated to make a Headless Horseman joke here?)–before finally going back to school to pursue an advanced certification in Human Resources. And then she waited. And she […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Sep 15

2015

Plan On Being Nervous, Brilliantly

Sep 15, 2015

Being nervous sucks. Your pulse races. Your brain blanks. Your hands shake like little assholes. You tell yourself to take deep breaths, but the minute you do, you then worry that the entire room can see the fact that your heart is, in fact, doing the electric slide up and down your rib cage. (God […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Jun 3

2012

Battle Cry of the Crazies: For Anyone Hustling for MORE

Jun 3, 2012

  You aren’t crazy for wanting what hasn’t even occurred to them to want. You aren’t crazy for needingwhat they would only deem a luxury. You aren’t crazy for demandingthat circumstances yield to you, instead of the other way around. And you aren’t crazy for taking what it means to be human, and turning it upside […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Dec 31

2010

Resolutions Are For Chumps. I Choose Revolution.

Dec 31, 2010

All the things you think you need this year, you don’t. You do not need more determination.  You do not need more discipline.  And you certainly do not need more diligence. Are you kidding me? You are a Westerner–you’ve got plenty of that.  Why else have you gotten up every single day and begrudgingly gone […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Apr 5

2012

Fuck Plan B. You’re on the A Team.

Apr 5, 2012

His name is Oskar. He’s Rastafarian. I met him when I first came to Costa Rica in 2004 and watched him trying to sell his paintings day after day on the beach, sweating, struggling to speak English to the tourists who passed by, working from dusk until the wee hours of the night to make […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Mar 20

2014

I Brought 20 Hookers to Central America on Business.

Mar 20, 2014

I sloshed on yet another layer of gloss, steering frantically with one hand while trying not to rear end a truck full of cows. I mean, what would I tell the Life Hooky group? “We didn’t pick you up at the airport in San Jose because, see, there were these cowsssssss.” Even I would think I […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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Apr 18

2017

Growth Requires Muscle Tears

Apr 18, 2017

Yesterday I talked about change—and it’s no coincidence. I’m making some big changes myself, given that a lot of things are coming to an end, right now. Because iteration is what we’re all doing, every single day, even if it blows by us going 100mph down the freeway. (In a red Ferrari, smoking a cigar, […]

In: Finding Your Voice

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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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But no serial killers. I promise I won’t send those.

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