K is for Kindness

I went on a date a few weeks ago with this guy who had a very large obvious tattoo on his arm saying *Brianna. (*Brianna wasn’t the actual name on his arm, I’m taking a creative liberty to protect *Brianna.) So of course I asked, “Oooh, who is *Brianna?” and this guy cut me down and was like, “We don’t talk about *Brianna!”

I just… why would you tattoo someone’s name in 72pt font down your forearm if you don’t want people to ask about it?

I gave him a wry smile (I’ve been reading lots of romance novels lately and everyone gives wry smiles in these sorts of situations) and left it at that.

All in all it wasn’t a great date, but he did ask me what I’m looking for in a partner, and it got me thinking about my values and desires.

My top three criteria are playfulness, introspection and kindness. 

Playfulness is at the top of my list. I really enjoy being with people who are fun, silly and young at heart.  Someone who will sing along with me to songs we don’t know the words to, someone who will make me laugh and who understands absurdity of this human experience we’re having together. Life needs to be joyous. 

One of my favourite memories is from an ordinary night with one of my ex-boyfriends. We were driving and we passed a sign saying “night roadworks” and I started singing “Nightroadworks” to the tune of “Nightswimming” by REM.  My ex picked it right up and started singing the second line “Roadworks in the night” with me.  

Maybe that’s not romantic to everyone, but to me I just felt so understood and seen. I sing when I’m happy. It’s something I’ve noticed over the years – when I’m in a good mood little ditties will escape my mouth. (Just like I’ve noticed when I’m not in a good way “sorry’s” will slip my past lips. I have tells, but I’ll never tell!)

So fun and silliness are important to me. I fall in love with people who make me laugh. 

My second criteria is introspection. I think self-reflection and a commitment to “soul-growth” is something I value and I would like to be with someone who shares this value. 

I don't know why this quote is paired with this image, but I'm not gonna examine it right now.

I was once with a guy who flooded his own laundry and yelled at me for it.  There was no possible way I could have been responsible for the flooding, I hadn't been anywhere near his laundry, and yet I took the blame. This man had absolutely no self-awareness (or humility, or compassion). He could not accept that he had made a mistake and so he took his anger out on me. He was so ready to blame the world, he refused to see that his actions had consequences. 

I think it’s important to look at our motives and our patterns. When we become aware of our defects we can made decisions about what to do with them, but until we are aware of what we are unconsciously doing we will repeat our mistakes. Without awareness there is no choice. 

My third criteria is kindness.  Kindness costs nothing. I used to see kindness as a sort of weakness, something people will take advantage of, but as I get older I’ve found that the greatest source of connection to others is through compassion and service. A smile from a stranger can make my day.

Here's your meme

One of the biggest red flags I ever saw was one night in winter I was at this man’s house.  His cat had used the bathtub as a toilet and he was punishing her by locking her outside. It was freezing outside and I could hear her desperate meows and scratching at the flyscreen door. I got up to let her in and he stopped me, telling me she was in trouble and “she knows what she did.” I felt so bad for this poor darling cat. I soon discovered that this man could treat people the exact same way. I found myself frequently stonewalled by him with no warmth and no way in. He would tell me “you know what you did” and I would have to guess at why I was being punished. What transgression had I made for him to treat me so cruelly?

So kindness is a must on my list. At the end of my date the other week the guy got a phone call from his baby mama and he was quite nasty to her. This was less than half an hour after I had told him “kindness” is something I value. I understand that ex-relationships are complicated – especially when there are children involved, but also I do not want to be the next woman he is verbally abusive to. 

When I need to have a difficult conversation with someone I ask myself if the words I am about to utter are true, necessary and kind. Our words need to be all three. Sure, someone may have wronged you, but there is no need to wrong someone back. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.  

I feel a bit funny writing a list of things I'd like in a partner.  I think my whole life the only requirement I've had is "he likes me" – and even then sometimes even that wasn't a requirement.  

Anyway, I'm working on being my best self at the moment.  I have a list of things I love, and I'm told that if I do these things on my "love list" then I will attract the right someone; hopefully someone whose criteria I also match :)

J is for Jealousy

I’ve been putting writing this post off for… *counts*… 3 years. 3 years since I last blogged because of this fundamental shame. And why not just make J for “Jobs” or “Joy” or “Jalapeños”. Well, I could’ve, and probably should’ve considering how long I’ve put this off, but none of those things are quite as intrinsic as my #1 character defect. 

Most of my life I genuinely believed I was not a jealous person. I convinced myself that the churning in my stomach and sinking of my heart I encountered while comparing myself to smarter/funnier/prettier people was just me “being happy for them”. And boy was I happy for everyone! 

I actually remember the day I decided I wasn’t going to be a jealous person, and yes, it was a very intentional conscious decision. The day was December 25 1993. 

I had recently been introduced to the musical fantasy film, Xanadu, and I was in love with Olivia Newton John. I wanted nothing more than to be a singing skating ethereal princess, and I just knew that Santa had listened to my heart and I was going to get those roller-skates come Christmas morning. Christmas day rolled around (pun not intended) and there must’ve been a communication error at the North Pole, because I woke up to roller-blades in my stocking. 

Radical, sure. But is it ethereal?

Blades are okay, but they’re not otherworldly or romantic. I tried to hide my disappointment. I was taught to always be grateful and gracious, so I put on a smile and had a fairly adequate Christmas day. My façade was working well until my cousins arrived that afternoon. 

My cousin Ashley got roller-skates from Santa that morning and I was devastated. 

My memory may be fabricated here, but I vividly recall sitting on my front veranda steps watching Ashley skate off into the sunset, her silhouetted dress flowing in the breeze; she was the ethereal princess and I was a regular shoed chump. 

They say comparison is the thief of joy. I saw Ashley, graceful and gorgeous and I looked at myself; a gargoyle. Gargoyles don’t glide – they slump. So I hunched my shoulders and slouched into my well of self-pity. 

I got caught, of course. My Uncle came out and chastised me for being spoilt, ungrateful and unkind. All very ugly characteristics that I was not keen on having attached to me. I decided at that moment I would never be jealous again. 

Can one decide to never be jealous? Yes, but only if one is also mighty delusional! 

So, decades of heartache followed. What isn’t brought to consciousness will be lived out as fate, (or so Carl Jung says.) I spent years tearing myself to pieces because I didn’t feel good enough. I would look at my peers and their achievements and note my lack of achievements. If I did achieve something I’d downplay it, hating to think I might upset someone else with my magnificence. I got myself into numerous love triangles, constantly seeing why and how the other woman was clearly a better catch. All the while I was telling myself that I didn’t mind, that I was happy for the victors of these unspoken competitions.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes

Compare to despair. My life stayed small. I was (rightly) accused of being unambitious, I rarely shot for things I actually wanted. I didn’t really let myself want much, unless it was absolutely attainable and no-one would notice if I did attain it. I refused to acknowledge my talents, in case someone think me arrogant, (or spoilt, ungrateful or unkind.) 

I was 30 when I first acknowledged my jealousy. It had been there, simmering, (frequently boiling over,) waiting for me to say “oh, hey there, estranged emotion, what do you want to tell me?” 

I think that's all any of our emotions want, acknowledgement and compassion.  Jealousy isn't "bad", every person on the planet has felt jealous of something or someone at some point in their life. It's what we do with the emotion, how we interact with it. We can use jealousy to put ourselves down and live our lives small, or we can listen to it and use it to motivate us to be better than we were yesterday.  

Spiderman's new slogan is pretty fly (stretchy pun sort of intended)

Jealousy is a lack of self-love. I used jealousy as an excuse to give up, to not try, to not work on the things I perceive as my flaws. When I’m looking at others I’m not looking at myself. I can't control what others do, only what I do; so I have to be looking inward.  I'm learning to meet my emotions and accept them as they come.  Acceptance isn't the same as approval, I don't always have to agree with my emotions; but I do have to acknowledge them if I don't want to be consumed by them.

Becoming acquainted with my jealousy has helped me grow. Now when I hear that voice say “she’s so pretty,” I tell myself, “I agree, and so am I.” Conceited much? Maybe. The thing is, you spot it you got it! So when I think a person is kind, or smart, or funny, I can appreciate that it takes one to know one.

Oh, funny story! So there’s this quote which says “One finger pointing out, three pointing back at you” and I never understood it. I assumed the quote had something to do with the law of threes, that everything we put out into the world will come back three fold. That was until I heard the quote “two fingers pointing out, six pointing back at you” and I realised that when you point your index finger, your middle finger, ring finger and pinky all point backwards. It was literally talking about our hand. 

The rule of threes?

 Boy did I feel quite the fool. Luckily I never told anyone!

I is for Impulsive

I don’t like making decisions.  I often find myself answering questions with questions.  It’s like I’ll ask someone if my opinion is correct.

It's actually pink

Sometimes I make statements with questions too.

My BFFs

So I’m dreadful at making decisions and having opinions.  The thing I have found though, is that when I’m alone I’m really quite impulsive.

Like, when I’m shopping with a friend I can’t for the life of me find anything I want to buy, when I’m by myself it’s a whole nother story!

How did I live without this sparkly dragon?

A couple of months ago I was driving down the road when a magpie swooped in front of me and I hit him with the bonnet of my car.  I had no idea what to do, so I got out of my car, picked the poor bird up, put him on my passenger seat and started driving.  

All was well for about 30 seconds, when I think both of us were still a bit shell shocked. Then he started singing, as if to say “alright, I’m good, you can let me out now”, but I was already on a main road on the way to the vet.  That’s when he started flying.  In my car.  While I was driving. 

It was then I realised I hadn't made the smartest decision.

Through the screaming and wild flapping we did eventually make it to the vet. The bird made a bit of a mess of my car, but I made a bit of a mess of his body, so I think we’re even.  I called the vet a few days later and they said he was in rehab. Or something. The important thing is that we survived.

So, a few weeks after that I was in the car with a friend when something flapped across the windshield. She thought she hit a bird but just kept driving on. I was astounded! Is that what you’re supposed to do? What is the protocol for involuntary birdslaughter? (And don’t worry dear reader - It turned out to not be a bird on this occasion, just another passengers’ wallet that was perched on the bonnet before we started driving. The funny thing is that if we'd have stopped we might've retrieved her wallet.  Funny tragic - not funny haha.)

Anyway, it is funny (haha) how reserved I am around other people and how uninhibited I am by myself.  I once heard that if you watched someone when they think they’re alone you can’t help but fall in love with that person.  I think that’s a beautiful idea.  Who are we when we’re just going about our business?  Are we different?  

I know that I am different.  I’m slowly slowly learning to let other people see my weirdness. Mostly when I'm blogging alone.  Well done.

H is for Hauls

I have a confession.  I love watching clothing haul/try-on videos on YouTube. It's a weird voyeuristic pleasure, I love seeing other people snap up bargains. I like to think this is a type of altruism but I think it's just some sort of vicarious frugality.

Over March I was very spendy.  I think I spent about 150% of my income, so I thought to myself I should let the world bear witness to my over-indulgence and maybe this won't happen again.  I'm delusional like that :)

Here we go, Sam's March haul blog!

I picked up this really cute maxi skirt at the Queanbeyan Salvos for $3.50. It has pockets!

'Coz I got one hand in my pocket, and the other ones taking a selfie

These plaid Victoria's Secret pyjama pants - $2.50 from the Jamison Salvos.  I used to be really thingy about buying sleepwear at op-shops, but really they're just clothes. These particular sleep clothes have pockets for all the things I need to take to bed with me.

Who wore it better? Sam or the super hot VS model?

I'm actually really into pyjamas at the moment. So I bought a lot of them! These blue oxox pyjama pants came from Kmart for $7, along with the light blue singlet top for $1.

I think of them as oxox hugs and kisses, rather than oxox naughts and crosses

The pink cat face pyjama pants came from Best & Less for $8, and the long sleeved black top was from Kmart for $4. The super cute cat-face socks are a Target number that came in a 3 pack for $6.

😺😺😺😺😺😺😺

These very fancy panda pyjama pants came from the Jamison Salvos, they're Emerson brand, which means they're a Big W original! Scored them for $7, and the stripey tshirt was from Kmart, for $4.

Just being casual in my room.  So casual.

I bought 2 floral print tops.  The one that says "BOYS" really spoke to me on a deep spiritual level. The blue one was from Big W for $3, the BOYS top was from the Woden Salvos for $2.50

I just can't wear it in public. Ever.

I got a dressing gown!  I legit love this dressing gown (and the slippers).  Dressing gown was $20 from Best & Less, the slippers were $15 from Kmart.  This might be the most expensive "outfit" posted on here.

It even has a hood! Now my hair can stay warm too!

I bought a very oversized tshirt from Kmart for $7. It says my tribe and I thought it was really cute, even though it's about 4 sizes too big for me.  I got the emoji tshirt from Big W for $5. The emoji shirt is only 1 size too big.

😀😁😎❤️🎵😴

I got this Simply Vera floral sleeveless top from Jamison Salvos for just $1.75.  On a side note - I lost 6kgs recently and my work pants are starting to get baggy.  Nice!

❤️ Thank you Keto ❤️

I love shoes!  I love sparkles!  I got myself a couple of new shiny shoes.  The Converse were from the Jamison Salvos for $12, the rose gold laceless shoes were $15 from Target, the ballet flats were $12 and the oil-spill-esque shoes were $15 - both from Big W.

👠 👡 👢 👞 👟

I got two jumpers from the Tuggeranong Salvos.  The very fancy bling jumper was $7 and the less fancy jumper was also $7.

💎 Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got 💎

I got this very cute Emerson (once again a Big W score) jumper from Salvos in Mitchell for $5. I love the cute bow detail on the back of it!

🎀

I bought a few other things but I've run out of steam.  This was self indulgent but fun! I'll be back :)

G is for Grief

Today would be my Nana’s 87th birthday. She died in 2011. She was an incredible human being. She was a mental health activist, a cancer survivor, an Amway distributor and the most optimistic Pollyanna on the planet. She had the biggest smile and when she’d laugh she’d finish with “oh dear”. She was the first person to recognise that my mental health issues made me a sick person, not a bad person. I loved her immensely.  

Andrea Walsh - AKA: "Nana"

Denial
Nana got diagnosed with bone cancer in February 2009. I didn’t take her diagnosis well. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of crying! Then silence. I denied that she was dying. I began to avoid her. This is one of my biggest regrets, that I abandoned my Grandmother at the end of her life. It was incredibly selfish of me. Mum ended up being an at home carer for Nana, but when I came home to visit I wouldn’t spend much time with Nana. I got on with my life and pretended it wasn’t happening.

Anger
The anger stage lasted a long time! Nana died on the 15th of February 2011, 2 years after her diagnosis. After her death I started to feel very angry with her for dying. I totally recognise how irrational that is! Still, I was angry with her for leaving me in this world without her. How very dare she! I was angry she got chemotherapy which made her even sicker for the end of her life when I couldn’t see any hope. I know the truth is that she wanted to be alive so badly. It was never in her nature to just give up. I was mad because I saw her death as inevitable and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I stayed angry with her until I saw a psychic/medium in 2015.  

Bargaining
I don’t know if there is a more obvious way of bargaining than seeing a psychic to contact a loved one who has passed. I went and saw a psychic last year pretty specifically to try to talk to my Nana again. The psychic did actually get my Nana’s personality pretty spot on. This helped me forgive her for leaving me. I don’t really think our loved ones ever truly leave us if we remember them and honour them in our lives. I don’t know if I believe in “spirits” or an afterlife. I’d like to. I do believe we have souls and purpose and connection. Knowing what is realistic and what isn’t (like someone living forever) has helped me with this loss.  

Depression
After seeing the psychic I did feel sad for quite some time. I still get waves of sadness at how much I miss her. Sometimes I just want to pick up the phone and let her know what’s going on with me. She was so good with advice (and meddling! She loved her meddling. And her drama!)  She’d be so fascinated by what’s happening in the world right now! Occasionally I get teary when I think about her, but the tears are slowly being replaced with smiles.  

Acceptance
I’m at this stage now, nearly 6 years after her death. Nana was 55 when I was born, I don’t know why I expected her to be around for all of my life. We don’t have a cure for mortality yet. Sometimes when I’m meditating I like to invite her spirit in (by which I mean the essence of her, what I imagine the spirit of her to be). She’s around because I’m around, and I remember her and I love her. Love doesn’t die.

So happy birthday Nana BaNana. I miss you heaps tonnes and I love you.

F is for Friends

Birthday parties were a big thing when I was growing up.  I’ve always been into tradition and ritual, as well as being given presents and having lots of people adore me for just existing – I’m really into that. So I really got into birthday parties and celebrating Sam.

When I was about to turn 7 my mum decided to throw a birthday party for me.  I remember mum asking me who I wanted to invite, and I didn’t know.  She asked me who my friends were, and I couldn’t tell her.  We got out my class photo and I honestly did not know which girls were my friends.  So we settled on just inviting all the girls in my class to my birthday party.

7 year old Sam partying down with her many acquaintances

Is this weird?  I‘m not sure.  I’ve always been blessed with having a lot of people around me.  I like people, especially eccentric and quirky people. I’ve always been attracted to people who embrace their dark and light, and wear them unashamedly. Authentic people are the bomb! 

My problem (one of many problems really) is that I’m a bit of a wallflower. In my head I have this rich inner fantasy life where I'm super interactive, so I feel like I’m close to people when in reality I’m kind of a loner.

Feeling close to people and being close to people are different things. I've learned that to be friends with someone, it has to go two ways.  I can’t get close to people if I only observe and don’t share myself.  It's something I'm not good at.  In the past I have found myself with the predicament where people who share themselves with me are not the people I share myself with, and then I share myself with people who won’t share with me. It’s paying it forward in awkwardness. 

These days I am getting better at identifying who I consider my friends.  There are a couple of people who I trust and who seem to trust me, and that's pretty wonderful.  I don’t have a lot of friends, but I don’t really need a lot. I’m content having a small world within this small world. 

...a smile means friendship to everyone

E is for Experience

Oh how I’ve wrestled with what to write here for E. For the last month I was going to write about my turbulent emotional nature, or maybe about my education, or maybe even about that time I lived in England for a year. England is such a funny place. They have such charming bees. Australian bees are all sleek and streamlined, built for speed; but the ol’ gentle bumble bee comes across as this eccentric man with a bowler hat and oversized map, coming up and asking if you know where the nearest tube station is. Really, they are so cute! We so don’t do insects right in Australia!

So, E is for experience.

All my life I’ve been madly trying to do and be what I thought other’s expected me to do or be. It was like the exact definition of being inauthentic. For me, to be authentic means to accept myself how I am and to accept others how they are, and live on a happy rainbow of acceptance. My lack of self-acceptance has lead me down some bizarre paths, like that time I did nursing at Uni.

In the beginning of 2005 I had a boyfriend who I’d known for about 2 weeks. With his absolute profound knowledge of who I am as a human being, he told me I would make a great nurse. I, with my absolute profound lack of self-acceptance and an all-consuming fear that no-one is ever going to love the “real me”, agreed with him. I’m very into telling people what I think they want to hear.

So I spent a year timidly poking people with needles, giving sponge-baths where I ended up more soaked than the clients, and failing the Human Anatomy exam twice. Turns out I didn’t make a great nurse. The boyfriend didn’t love my neurotic caricature of what I thought he wanted me to be either, so that relationship didn’t last. Weird.

In hindsight I am grateful for that experience. Choosing a career based on trying to get a boy to like you doesn’t lead to the road of happiness. In fact, none of my relationships have lasted despite my great efforts to not be myself. It’s a funny thing. I always thought that I would be happy if I was loved, but I was equally convinced that I was unlovable. What a conundrum! In my attempts to get this love that I craved, I would portray myself as an idyllic version of a person I thought my partner would like. The thing is, even if they did love the portrayal, they weren’t loving “me”.

I’ve been guilty of doing the opposite too. I’d fall in love with the idea of the person, but not the person themselves. I would have expectations of them based on no evidence. I have suffered great disappointments through my lack of acceptance. Fantasising is fine when used properly, with caution and reverence, but I think living in a fantasy that involves denying a person the right to be themselves might be crossing a line.

I’m reasonably sure now that happiness doesn’t depend on being loved. My parents have always loved me but that hasn’t been enough to make me happy. I’ve had boyfriends love me but that hasn’t been enough. Being loved is great and loving people is great, they are both things I treasure and I am so grateful that I have an abundance of love in my life. What I’ve noticed is that my happiness seems to be directly proportional to my level of acceptance of things in my life. When I wasn’t accepting myself or others I was dreadfully unhappy.

The thing that has helped me the most with getting acceptance is being thankful and practicing gratitude. In my experience, the more gratitude I have → the more acceptance I have → the happier I am. They build on each other. This “attitude of gratitude” can start as simply as appreciating an aesthetically pleasing flower. Sure, everything might suck, but that pansy looks like a boy-cat’s face! Maybe things are okay right now in this moment.

Happy to be thankful

This year I started studying again at the Canberra Institute of Technology (CIT). I’m doing a certificate in Community Services Work because my cousin told me I’d make a great Child Protection Officer. In truth I would probably make a dreadful Child Protection Officer. Even if I had more assertiveness, my temperament is just too emotional. The job would break my heart. Respect to those who can do it, it would take a strong hearted person to make those calls. (Not heartless, I believe people who can be objective enough to do what is best for a child without getting caught in their emotions have very strong hearts.)

Even though I don’t think I’m cut out for Child Protection work, I am loving being at CIT. I am learning so much about myself. One of my teachers said to me a lot of people come to CIT as a means to an end, that studying is about getting a specific job, but for me this might be the end; that studying is about finding out what my inner gifts are and how I can apply those in the outside world. It’s not saying that I don’t intend to get a job at the end of my studies, but I’m one of those people that are in it just to be in it. The experience is helping me chisel away at the parts which aren’t me, and building up the parts that are.

I am so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to take this time to discover myself. I’m understanding things on a gut feeling level, as well as an intellectual level.  I love learning, I love my brain, and I’m loving this experience. I have a feeling I’ve only scratched the surface and I am so looking forward to getting to know more about myself and about others.


Hey, whaddya know, I accidently ended up writing about my turbulent emotional nature and my education. E is for everything?

D is for Discontinuation

The grand plan was to finish the “a-z of me” series on this blog. D was going to be for Disney, and I was going to write about how I grew up on Princesses and bursting into spontaneous song, but after many-a-month of not blogging I realised following through on things is not a strength of mine, and maybe D needs to be about my inability to keep the ball rolling.

While I haven’t been doing things I’ve had a lot of time to think about what makes me flake out so much. People like people who are agreeable.  I like it when people like me.  Consequently, I say yes a lot when I mean to say no.  This oddly has the exact opposite outcome to the desired effect.  Nobody looks back and thinks “hmmm, Sam says yes to lots of things. I like that!” It’s more “Sam doesn’t do what she says she’s going to do... I like that.”

I love Robert Downey Jr.

I have a feeling that part of my problem with completing things is a case of perfectionism gone horribly wrong.  I have a massive and incredibly fragile ego, which I hide behind this charming veil of self-deprecation. It’s delightfully disarming. But behind this veil is a truth that I know that I can be better than I make myself out to be. I expect perfection from myself.

This unrealistic expectation of perfection results in me simply not attempting to do anything. You can’t fail what you don’t attempt.  Or alternatively I’ll start a project, get halfway through and realise it’s not the completed masterpiece I had in my head, so I stop. It’s easier to accept a failure if there is no final product available to be judged.

I’ve recently been telling myself to aim for progress not perfection, which is why I am going to post this blog piece. I don’t feel like this is a good entry, it’s short and disjointed. Too many sentences are starting with the word “but”. But I’ve been stuck at this place for so long and I need to move forward. On to E.

C is for Cats

When I was 7 Batman Returns came out, and I fell in love with Michelle Pfeiffer.  I thought she was just the ant’s pants and the bee’s pants and the cat’s pyjamas – I wrote her a letter with drawings and everything! Her portrayal as Catwoman was magnificent.  Sure, being 7 I didn’t understand her character at all; I just knew she was pretty, had an affinity with cats and took no nonsense from people who were mean. So, in the sincerest form of flattery I could muster, I became a Weird Cat Child.

Most people know the Crazy Cat Lady, she’s the emotional spinster who has too many cats instead of a family. (We joke about this serious condition all too lightly.) Well, the Weird Cat Child is very similar, but instead of having cats she becomes the cats! I was that kid who used to lick the back of my hand and run it through my hair (or fur, as I preferred it to be called). I used to meow and purr and pretend I was super interested in yarn. I was weird.

Me and my first love

One day my friend’s cat accidentally had kittens, so my parents caved in and we got to keep one! Her name was Lucy and I loved her. It wasn't to last though – she broke my heart by running away. I was devastated. After a week of searching 3 doors up and 3 doors down from our house (Cat Children are territorial and respect boundaries in the forms of roads and footpaths) I vowed I would never love another cat again.

Fast forward: The year was 2013, it was a week before Christmas and our hero Sam had once again primed herself for a ride on the heartbreak express. 

For a few months I had been casually browsing the RSPCA website, looking for a new cat to give a ‘forever home’ to. I knew dad wasn’t too keen on the idea, but that didn’t stop me dreaming. Unfortunately I let my dreams get too big one afternoon when I found myself actually at the RSPCA holding the most effing adorable cat you have ever seen in your life.

She actually stuck her tongue out when she was happy! Tell me that is not the cutest thing you have seen in your life! I adored this cat!

So happy :P!!!

Dad didn’t though. I sent photos, I begged, I made promises regarding feeding and litter changing all in vain.  In that fleeting portion of an afternoon that the cat and I had spent together something had changed in me.  I knew I could love a cat again. One day I will love a cat again. I know deep in my heart that I am destined to own a cat.

Didn’t stop me crying for the next 3 days though.


This post is about the time I didn’t buy a cat.  Turns out you really can blog about anything.

B is for Baggage

The older we get the more baggage we carry around with us.

This post is an exclusive exposé of what I carry around with me.

Exhibit A: The Exterior 

Pretty in Pink

This bag seems like it’s keeping it all together. It is fun, it’s lively, it has a hint of danger in the studding, but nothing that would immediately tip off that the contents are a jumbled mess of stuff and junk.

Exhibit B: The Lifelines 

Call me maybe?  Or Sam... Sam works too

These are what keep me connected with the world. First we have my wallet, which can be used to either conceal or reveal my identity. Then we have my phone which I use to store a database of my contacts; and play Sudoku on.

Exhibit C: The Decoy 

Pretty in Salmon

I bought this the other weekend and haven’t swapped my ID over to it yet.

Exhibit D: Bags 

The bags in my bags come in bags

Yes, my baggage has baggage! Blame the ACT for that one!

Exhibit E: Too many pens 

Maybe I should be a professional autographer

Do you need a pen? Do you need 8 pens? If I were an octopus this amount of ink would be appropriate.

Exhibit F: Prettifying things 

I have yet another BB cream in my wardrobe...

I have 2 BB creams because no one should look like how they really look like.

Exhibit G: The Unclassifieds 

I've already eaten one of these things...

Some things I haven’t made a category for. They just float around and show up when not expected.

Exhibit H: The Escape 

Mais où est la key de l'heart?

I don’t condone throwing rocks at people, not matter how many times I read my key-ring. I carry bad advice with me – key-rings really are made to be rung.

Closing Statement
Bags, bags, bags – they're very useful things.  If we didn't have bags what would we use to put a lot of things in?