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?

A is for Antidisestablishmentarianism

I'm starting a new blog series - the A-Z of me! I figure it's a good push for me to write, even if some topics aren't going to be that well thought out. 

So, without further ado... Antidisestablishmentarianism – the opposition to the belief that there should no longer be an official church in a country.

Through my life I’ve contemplated the existence of a God. As I stand right now I lean towards agnostic theism.  I think there is something bigger than myself, but I don’t know how or why I believe that.

My upbringing wasn't particularly religious, my parents believed in letting me come to a religious decision myself. But just in case I didn't come to a decision, I was christened when I was 1 year old. I have 3 God Parents. This hasn't had any effect on my life. To those parents out there contemplating infant baptism - it can't hurt. At best you've saved your child from eternal damnation, at worst you got them a little wet.

I was damned minutes before this photo was taken

My primary school had Easter and Christmas activities which were pretty fun, but I was always confused when some children were taken out of the class during those weeks. I was told that their parents didn’t want them knowing about God, which didn't make sense at the time.  It planted that seed saying “perhaps there isn’t…” I mean, it turned out Santa wasn’t real, who’s to say God wasn’t related. Why else would their parents not want them to participate?

So I got skeptical. In high school I joined the Inter-School Christian Fellowship (ISCF) specifically to challenge the other Christian students and ask obnoxious questions like “if God is all-knowing, why does he test us knowing we’ll fail?” and “do dinosaurs go to heaven?” Disappointingly I was informed that dinosaurs do not go to heaven... because they never existed! 2 blows in 1 day! Thanks ISCF! 

It's all coming up dinosaur!

When I was 17 I started going to the Canberra Chinese Christian Church with my friend Emily. I don’t know if she realised I’m not Chinese… actually, it seemed like no one there noticed – and I felt really accepted.  It was wonderful.  I felt my heart swell with warmth and love and I decided that that feeling was God. I had made the decision that I was a Christian!

Having this conviction was empowering!  I was haughty about it too, with this uppity “I’m better than you peasants because I’m a believer”.  I judged people harshly because they weren't as enlightened - that was until I dated a Catholic boy.  I don’t have a problem with Catholicism, but his family looked down on me because I had the wrong version of the same belief. My haughtiness had the stool kicked from beneath it. I was crushed by someone doing the exact same thing I was guilty of.

It was humiliating, to think that I had treated others with this same contempt, simply for having a belief that was different to mine.  I decided Christianity didn’t suit me, and I gave up on God.

So I spent most of my 20s being very nihilistic. Nihilism has suited me, but as I'm approaching my 30s I’m wanting a bit more from my life.  I’m searching for meaning again.

I don’t believe in God as such, but I do believe there is purpose in our existence. I think things happen at certain times for certain reasons.  We’re here to improve and enlighten ourselves. The universe is beautiful and it’s a marvel to be a part of it.  Life is essentially beautiful. 

I specifically am the universe

In terms of being antidisestablishmentarian, as long as there is a separation of the church and the state it doesn’t really bother me if there is an official church or not.  As long as the people of a country are free to believe in what they want, however they want as long as it doesn’t hurt other people, it’s not really that much of a concern. Live and let live.

Today's post was brought to you by the letter M, and the number 3.14

Unsolicited opinions

Bridges are the best part of songs.

Bridges are the worst part of footpaths.

Michelle Bridges has a cool last name.

Michelle Footpaths has an unfortunate last name.

Anyone with their name starting with an “A” should sign their names with that “star” A people do.

People with the letter “i” in their name should dot it with a love heart.

This is my new signature.

S*m*nth* w<3ll<3*ms

Australian accents in songs sound wonderful.

Australian accents at Sydney airport when you’ve just got home from traveling overseas sound ridiculous.

This is most definitely an “inside” headband.

This is what happens when you won't let me have a cat!

That pose is a “don’t put that on the inter… you just did, didn’t you?!” pose.

Shake up time…

Happy 2014 fellow human beings!  I hope this year brings you lots of joy and fulfillment.  I’ve set my intentions:

1. To work on my health, spirituality, and to grow up.
2. To stop hiding from the world – to get out there and embrace who Samantha Williams is.
3. To forgive and let go. 

Have you set any intentions for the year?
... My goodness, this blog just broke the fourth wall! Things are getting hectic over here!!!

In my opinion, this is the last sentence of this blog post.

In reality it wasn’t.