Ginger Rage

Today's is a little bit of an add on to what I wrote yesterday.  Today I was reading yet another article about personality. This particular article was written about attachment styles and how to fix your particular style. I can remember reading about this while getting my psych degree and thought the same thing I thought then. Damn, I am fucked. I'm also the person that reads articles about how to spot a sociopath and wonder whether I am actually a sociopath. That's not really the point though.  There is another article about personality. Another article about what might be wrong with us. Another article on how we can actually fix what is wrong with us. This is sort of what the quizzes themselves are about. The difference between them is that the quizzes only fill out the good parts of who you think you are. These articles seem to emphasize everything that is wrong with you. How do you fix you? There isn't really anything wrong with this because really it ju

I love to think of myself as a unique person. I'm funny, energetic, creative, intelligent and outstandingly charming. All different qualities that no one else could possibly have right? Well, that's obviously wrong and not even a unique quality since most people want to be different these days. Now comes the irony. There are billions of people in the world all wanting to be unique and now the personality tests have taken over the internet. Even I've become one of those people and I take almost all of them. Which Parks and Recreation character am I? Leslie Knope because she's my spirit animal. Which city should I live in? London. Which Myers-Briggs personality animal am I? ENFP, the dolphin. This means I'm Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling. Perceptive. The narcissist loves to share with you about how amazing I am, but really there is a point to this. My theories:  While everyone loves to be different, they really love to be understood as well.  All

I've been working since I was in elementary school. I believe it started with simple chores. When I was bored and none of my friends were around to play, I would beg to rake the yard. I'm not sure why I did this, but I probably liked the mundane activity of sweeping up the mess that was a leaf filled yard. This could also have been another indicator of the OCD that sometimes plagues my life in the form of what I call "quirks". Another was when I was in shopping lines and I would organize all of the candy in to their proper slots and in to nice pretty rows. The disorganization of that just drove me insane. By the age of 5, I would actually go to my friends houses and help them clean. I couldn't believe they would be okay with toys on the floor and a closet that wasn't perfectly organized. Not only were there jeans not all folded in the same direction, but they weren't even all in the same location. There were t-shirts mixed in there for instance. Shenan

When I was a child I had a strange fascination with cemeteries. This was a discovery I made when my mother was mourning the death of one of her beloved friends. I knew the person and I liked her, but I was young and I felt almost empty while my mother stood there weeping. Instead of standing there, I slowly backed away from my mother and walked around the graves below my feet. I would mentally calculate all of their ages and if I thought they died young I would feel sad for a moment and then move on. Then I walked upon a grave of young boy, he was wearing a tap outfit and had toys lining the cemetery. He was only 8 when he died, which was only a couple of years younger than I was when I found the grave since I was 10. It had been 3 years of his passing at this time, so he was supposed to be a year older than me at the time. This was when I felt fear and sadness. Not only for me and the inevitable, because this could have been me, but for him and his family. I sat down and I stared at

Sometimes I like to bring my Facebook machine to Starbucks and do other things with it. Like surf the internet, take quizzes to feed in to my vanity and occasionally I even write. Well, I have been here for two hours and I have listened to a lot of music, watched the Starbucks girls create a clever system to line drinks up at the drive thru, and I've looked one too many times at Facebook. We don't have to talk about that right now considering it is the Facebook machine. Once again, since it's between semesters I am trying to write. I have two projects happening at the same time. One is a complete re-write of a novel I have previously written and which I think could be done much better. The other is taking a story I wanted to write previously and adding a slightly autobiographical element. This means no one will probably ever read it because I don't want them guessing which parts are real and which are not. Instead of writing any of these things though, I am facing a

Taking chances has never really been an issue for me. I hate being cautious because it seems to be such an inefficient use of my time (or I hate thinking because it's an inefficient use of my time). In most cases when I'm thinking something, I say it. I don't mean saying things such as, "I wish I would have washed my hair, it's kind of gross." Well, that is something I might say, but what I'm really talking about is, "you know what, you're kind of a big deal," or "stop being such an ass hole." The inefficiency comes from the lingering amount of time thinking in my head about it. You know the facts, you make your mind up and move on from there.  In terms of doing things, I tend to do them because once again it just takes too much head space. I wanted to move to New York, I made the decision to move to New York and I moved there a few months later. Some people call this impulsive, but give things too much time and another prob

“I am going to take this bucket of water and pour it on the flames of hell, and then I am going to use this torch to burn down the gates of paradise so that people will not love God for want of heaven or fear of hell, but because He is God.” Technically, I'm sure this is the quote of a quote because I found this quote in John Green's novel "Looking For Alaska." I'm sure I could have easily looked this quote off the internet, put it in to the Google search engine and found exactly who said it, when they said and what book page of the reference. That's not really the point though and I don't really care about that at the moment. I am not religious at this time in my life. I do not find religion to be useful to me and I think most religious people follow blindly things in which they do not understand. When I was a child I was interested in religion, in the 1st grade my favorite book was of Bible stories and I used to get on a bus every Sunday just to

The only thing that is really controversial about this blog post is that there is nothing controversial to be said. I wanted to write this in order to see how many people would click on the post to see what I was writing about this time. Does controversy really grab a readers interest? Probably. This picture was actually found in an old yearbook. What caused you to click on a blog post that only stated it was a controversial issue? Is posting about nothing the actual controversy? Stupid and Genius. 

Today has been joyous, even before the caffeine I was in a good mood. Perhaps this is because I woke up for the first time in a week without feeling as if I were dying. Yes, when I am sick, I'm a pathetic little whiny bitch. There have been times when I have looked around the room and thought to myself, "this is the last time I'm going to see this place, goodbye." Then I stay awake with insomnia for at least an hour, fall asleep, then I wake up again. I am still having difficulty bring though, so obviously I have lung cancer just like the girl from "The Fault in Our Stars." Either that or my asthma just acts up when my allergies do. Anyway, when a person feels joyous it is really hard to gather up that "Ginger Rage" the blog is supposed to be named after. Truthfully, it's often quite difficult for me to feel rage. When I do feel it though, it's like a volcano, erupting and then twenty minutes later I'm over it. Sometimes have to apolo

Let's talk about...me.  I'm sure the idea of talking about me comes as a big shock, since this is a blog post written by me and generally about me. While this blog post is definitely going to be about me, it's also going to be about other things such as turning 30 and also expectations of society.  On April 9th, I will be 30 years old.Strangely enough, I'm not even a little worried about the prospect of being 30. I'm still slightly worried about the idea of death, but that's never going to end because I've been born in to a society that feels that every single one of us should be special and none of us should be forgotten. I fear mortality, not death. This is even KNOWING the very fact that I'm nothing special and should stop being such an asshole to think anyone should ever remember me in the future (I should probably remember this the next time I decide to write another post all about myself). The idea of me not worrying about getting old co

Most of my life I have been a mover. As you might imagine, this means I have moved a lot. From one school, one town, one city one state…to another. Before I was 18 I moved at least 20 different times, so I consider that movement. Anyway, this is not whining or complaining, but rather explaining my approach to people and relationships in a more general sense. This movement is what gave me the ability to speak with people, to make friends easily and move freely from one crowd to the next. I can’t lie and state that I was the coolest kid in school, because I was the nerdiest little girl starting from 6 th grade and beyond. My Xena obsession, AOL chat room RPG sessions and red stringy ginger hair were some causes of my misfortune. Even with this, I usually had friends, lots of new friends that I made and then moved away from. This gives me the ability to make friends, but not necessarily the ability to keep them. Facebook is the new and improved, obvious way of holding on to friends,