ASH AMBIRGE

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You’ve Only Got 12 Fucks to Give Every Day. How Do You Spend Them?

In: Feeling Disillusioned With Life

You know how they say there are only so many hours in a day?

And then you know how you immediately proceed to do that really cute thing where you overschedule yourself to the eyeballs, anyway, because apparently you think you are WAY ABOVE SUCH NONSENSE and pish posh I’ll get it done. I’ll get it done, you growl to yourself, in a fit of stubborn, mulish, holier than thou mania.

I’m not sure who we all think we are, but the truth is far less flattering.

We’re all just a bunch of regular ass humans working within one major constraint: time.

But unfortunately we’re absolute shit at measuring time. Time is all around us, it’s fluid, it moves, and we move with it, so we’re notoriously bad at cutting it off at the knees and dividing it up. As a result, we consistently underestimate how long it’s going to take us to do everything. (Ever just “run in for a loaf of bread”?)

I prefer to operate by the spoon theory—it’s the most important thing you will read all month. The theory asks you to imagine that, instead of measuring time, you measure units, or “spoons”—which you’ll understand once you read the piece.

In other words, if you’ve got exactly 12 fucks to give in a day, then every single time you do something, you give up one of those fucks. And when those fucks are gone, you’re done. You don’t have any more fucks to give.

And I wonder, what would happen, if you actually laid out 12 little objects on your desk, one day, and every time you said “yes” to something, you had to take one of them away. Might it be helpful, to actually SEE how much you’ve got left to give—instead of imagining that you’ve got all the time in the world.

Having all the time in the world is poetic, of course.

But having a handle on your sanity is far more beautiful.

Jan 23

2019

OH, NO, SORRY TO DISAPPOINT. All Fucks Are Currently on Backorder. We’ll Alert You When This Item Is Back in Stock.

So there’s this tall, spiky, sassy-ass house plant on my balcony—the thing looks like a punk rocker troll, or maybe a pile of swords, planted upright. (Scratch that, it’s definitely a pile of middle fingers. Oh, how apropos! THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING.) Anywauurrrrryyyyy, if I don’t water this motherfucker for just one day. Just ONE day. All […]

In: Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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May 12

2017

Pleasure Doesn’t Need an Appointment

In the mornings, I let myself linger underneath the covers, twisting the full, fluffy comforter up and around my face, letting my feet dance in the cotton. It feels so good, to slide your soles through the cool material—almost sinful. When I shower, I surrender to the warmth of the water, letting it caress my […]

In: Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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Jun 22

2018

Sometimes You Fall Into Things. You Fall Into People, Fall Into Places, Fall Into Patterns, Fall Into Deep Dark Obsessions With Red Velvet Cake. (AHEM.) 

The other day I tweeted about how I watched The Notebook and so CLEARLY I was living my best life. And then I started thinking about how much I love that phrase, because it’s a good reminder, isn’t it? Am I really living my best life? What does that even mean? Sometimes you fall into things. You fall into people, fall into […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired, Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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May 3

2018

Listen: Do What You Crave Without the Guilt. Travel to Italy. Enroll in That Workshop. Make Your Art Every Afternoon. And Hurl Yourself Into the Unknown—For This Is The Best ROI That Money Can Buy.

My almost-mother-in-law gets really fucking nervous when I travel—especially when I bomb off to South America for a month by myself to drink ALL THE WINE and celebrate ALL THE BOOK DEALS. But she doesn’t get worried in the typical way a mother might; not the way my own mother would have been worried, which would […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired, Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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May 18

2017

When You Feel Like a Hot Mess Full of Walking Contradictions and WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS YOUR LIFE?

You don’t have to choose, you know. You can be intelligent…and sensual. Extroverted…and introverted. Complex…and simple. You…and someone who’s evolving into someone else. Sometimes, in an effort to finally define who the fuck we are, we start putting ourselves into the little boxes voluntarily—the same ones that we spent our earlier years trying to escape. […]

In: Feeling Dead and Uninspired, Feeling Disillusioned With Life

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