The tale of Terrie

Today I crashed my car into my parents’ house. Again. I should probably stop making a habit of this; my car is going to be extremely unsellable by the time I’m done with it, not to mention the structural integrity of my parents' home. But now not only does my car have a smoking habit, it has a foot long scrape down the passenger door. Chicks still dig scars, right?

Now I’m going to tell you the tale of Terrie.

Terrie was my first car. Well, the first car I purchased, my first car was technically an old Ute which needed to be parked on the top of hills. I was so happy when I bought Terrie; no longer did I have to call my dad after school so he could jump start the Ute after the many times I was unsuccessful at using only gravity to get the motor running.

Terrie was a 1996 manual Hyundai Excel. We had many adventures.

One time I smashed half the side mirror while I was trying to impress a boy with my reverse angle parking skills.

He wasn’t that impressed.

Another time I learnt that it is bad to take corners fast when it is raining and there is oil on the road. As I spun out and stalled in the middle of the road facing the opposite direction I was very thankful there were no other cars around at that time.

Terrie and my last adventure together occurred at the end of June 2008. I was driving up to Gosford to see Josh because we had just broken up, and driving 350kms to see an ex is reasonable. It was peak hour and the traffic on the F3 freeway was stop start. I was behind a Ute and when he stopped I sort of kept going.

At first I didn’t think the damage was that bad, his car looked fine, and mine was still running. So I pulled over to the side of the road, and he drove off. I didn’t have insurance at the time, so I guess that’s one part of the story which is okay.

After about ten minutes of looking at the front of my dented car, wondering what to do, I decided that the best thing to do would be to try and make it to Gosford. So I got in and started driving.

After about thirty minutes of anxious driving I noticed that the temperature gauge was figuratively through the roof. I started panicking. I was *somewhere* between Sydney and Gosford and it was looking like Terrie wasn’t going to make it. I immediately pulled over to the side of the road, despite being next to a sheer hillside and there being no real shoulder for my car to pull into.

I thought maybe Terrie would cool down and we’ll make it the rest of the way to the Central Coast. So I turned off Terrie and tried to be calm while trucks honked at me for being on the side of their road. I waited for five minutes, after which I decided she would have cooled off enough to start up again. Wrong. Terrie wasn’t happy.

This is when I burst into tears. Then I called mum. I should probably have done that in the reverse order, because I think the hysterical crying magnified the situation a little. So mum started freaking out and she called the Gosford Police. The police then started freaking out and they sent 3 ambulances, 3 tow trucks and a police car for me, because that’s reasonable.

Then again, I had no idea where I was, so maybe this extravagant search party was warranted. I think my description of my location was, “maybe forty minutes from Sydney and next to a sheer drop,” which is pretty much the entire freeway. When the entourage arrived I declined being taken to a hospital, and I was told by police they couldn’t charge me for negligent driving because the crash happened in a different jurisdiction. So overheating my car might have been worth it - until I got the towing bill.

I was a student living off savings at the time. The wreckers said to fix Terrie it would cost me $1760. To buy it off me they would offer $300, which included the seven months rego remaining on her. It was a bit unfair but I didn’t have $1760, I barely had the $220 they were asking for the towing. I was scared and poor and away from home and deeply traumatised so I sold my baby to pay the bills. So to speak.

They were a dodgy company. They didn’t transfer my registration after I signed the paper saying I sold it for $300 and I got a few fines for my old car being driven through tolls without them paying. The whole ordeal was so distressing. I remember going into the ACT Government Shopfront being so distraught that the lady sent me to the front of the queue and gently informed me that next time I sell a car I need to transfer the rego papers or the car will still be in my name. Lesson duly noted. So I signed some statutory declarations saying the car wasn’t mine any more.

I haven’t heard from Terrie since.

Supposedly this is $1760 dollars of damage.

And this is what I look like when I'm heartbroken.

Decision duck

Today I was driving along the Barton highway and there were these two ducks in the middle of the road. It seemed they’d stopped to discuss whether crossing the road was the right choice or not. As I was approaching them, I was thinking, “get it together, ducks, you’re going to have to make a decision,” and then I realised that’s how people must see me: A duck paralysed by fear of the wrong decision, about to be hit by a car.

It could be worse; I could be an upside down wombat on the side of the road. Even though those noble fauna of ours are quite decisive, it doesn’t seem to work out so well for them. I’ve seen a lot more upside down wombats than their right side up counterparts. At least as a duck I have options. Stay? Go back? Move forward? Fly away to a distant land?

In most of the decisions I have made with my life, I have chosen to not decide, which unfortunately happens to still be a decision. It’s the realisation that stagnation is a choice which has recently made me more decisive. Plus the Red Queen’s Hypothesis, it takes all the running you can do just to keep in the same place, which then reminds me of that Fallout Boy song This ain’t a scene, it’s an arms race, which then makes me look up misheard lyrics on youtube.

There’s a great quote that goes, ”Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions.” and I’m fairly sure I’ve made enough bad decisions for one lifetime, so I should be set from here on.

So I’ve decided I’m getting better at making decisions. A couple of weeks ago a friend let me pick his tie for work. I was so awesomely decisive in this instance; it was between a grey stripy tie and a blue stripy tie and I picked the blue stripy tie. I sat there feeling quite chuffed with myself, until he mentioned the other blue stripy tie he had.

Why mention the other tie? Was he displeased with my first tie preference? Was the first choice to lull me into a false sense of security so he could catch me off guard with this new choice? Did he just need me to know he has more than two ties? This confused me, I was sure I’d picked right the first time but the knowledge of this extra tie compelled me to completely re-evaluate my original choice, so this brought the grey tie back into consideration and now I had three ties to choose from. So I sat there internally freaking out, afraid of picking any tie in case it was the wrong one.

In the end the first tie I chose was the one he wore that day. I think he just needed me to know he has more than two ties.

That can happen.

But I did feel a bit like a duck in the middle of the road, questioning my own judgement.

I find it weird that other people are letting me pick out clothes for them. I volunteer at the Salvos where they affectionately call me “dummy girl” not just because I’m ditzy. I dress the mannequins there and while I love choosing each outfit for them, it’s a painstakingly laborious process. I personally have next to no fashion sense and tend to dress like I’m five years old, but these mannequins are supposedly the opposite. It takes about a day and all my knowledge of colour theory to get the front window display looking okay, and even then I feel a bit like the other volunteers are thinking, “really?”

But as long as they’re just thinking it I don’t really mind. When it comes to criticism I’m more like water off a dry sponge than water off a duck’s back.

This makes me wish I was just the duck’s back rather than the whole worrisome duck.

Summer romance

I’m a bit of an idealist and have a tendency to over-romanticise love. Well, not just love, more ‘encounters’. I get so emotionally involved with everything I do that sometimes I’m surprised I can function. Even telemarketers are people too, and though I really don’t want their services and feel slightly miffed that they called me during that reality TV show I'm addicted to, my heart breaks a little when they hang up on me.

So here is the story of my summer of love.

It was the summer of 2005-2006. He was in Canberra for the summer for some genius scholarship thing and I was in Canberra because I live here. Now most of our time spent together was just hanging out in his room, but because I decided it was a ‘summer romance’, in my head it was playing out entirely differently:

He was a foreign business man from some exotic far away country and I was young betrothed woman enjoying my last summer before being forced into an arranged marriage.

(He was a student from Perth whose last name could also be used as a first name. I was just on school holidays in my home town and happened to be single.)

We would run on the beach and hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes as the ocean waves enveloped us, but the only thing that mattered would be us in that moment. Our clothes will be ruined, but our love eternal. We knew my family would not approve but our love was so deep - deeper than that very ocean - and we knew nothing would ever separate us.

(We would hang out in his room. There are no beaches in Canberra.)

The balmy night sky was a canopy that retained our radiating love. The stars gazed down on us, perhaps making wishes on our shining moment in time. Nothing except cruel fate and distance could separate us. Did our love know bounds? I cared not to know, and he knew not to care.

As the sun was setting on our last day together, we gazed ahead, reflecting on the intrinsic symbolism of sunsets. Even though we were aware that our time together would be short lived, that moment would bond us for all eternity.

(We’re now facebook friends.)

And that was my summer of one sided love. I remember that summer quite fondly, even though I made a lot of it up. I have a bit of a soft spot for the guy, I think he knew I was over romanticising every interaction we had, but he kept quiet about it. He’s actually quite a top bloke.

It’s kind of fun being a secret romantic though. I like getting excited about seeing someone, choosing what to wear, not wearing the same shoes twice because you need him to know you have more than one pair of shoes, buying new perfume and wearing it once so you both know you can smell nice.
These things are important.

Optimisticisation

For most of my life I’ve been treated like a child. Well, being the oldest child I was expected to be an adult while I was quite young, but now I am a ‘grown up’ and I find that other adults seem to think that I’m not as responsible as them, which is weird because I definitely pay tax and drink wine.

My first job out of university was essentially an entry level data entry role. The focus there was not so much on staff retention or happiness, but profits. That’s cool, you’re a business, I get it, but I would have thought that retaining staff would be more cost effective; less training, less overtime and a harmonious work environment. Whatever, I’m no business mogul.

So I left that place without really having a plan. Well, no, I did have a plan. I was going to be a socialite and independently wealthy and wear pretty dresses and attend dinner parties, but even in my fantasies this doesn’t go well.



Yeah, I’ve always wondered who I’d like to have at my fantasy dinner party. I think Leonardo DiCaprio and Joseph Gordon-Levitt would be suitably dreamy guests. Maybe Justin Long, he’s dreamy too. Oh and Buddy Nielsen. He’s my hero. He’s the lead singer of Senses Fail which is my favourite band of all time. In fact, in the unlikely scenario that I am stuck on an island and for some reason it has a CD player and I can only bring 3 CDs with me for all eternity, I would take two Senses Fail albums; Let it Enfold You and Still Searching. I might also bring a mixed classical CD because classical music tends to be long and so I’d get the most ‘bang for my buck’. In maths they call this optimisation.

But I’d choose optimisticisation over optimisation. Optimisticisation is something I made up just then. It is where the island happens to have a resort, and other people with their 3 CDs each. And those other people will be Leonardo DiCaprio and Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Justin Long. And Buddy Nielsen :).

In conclusion, I am looking forward to getting a job finally being treated like an adult. And I’ll get to wear suits and check my calendar and attend functions. Then I’ll pay my HECS and get a mortgage and retire. I have it all under control :).

Interviews

I’ve been a bit obsessed with being unemployed lately. Granted, I was obsessed with that idea before I became unemployed. This is not something I’ve entered into without a lot of consideration. What eventually pushed me to resign was the realisation that even if I was unemployed, desperate for a job and down to my last dollar, I wouldn’t apply to that company again.

Now I know that I’m supposed to do more with my life. I’m friendly and courteous and hard working. Not to mention personable. Boy, am I personable! But I’m an extreme under-achiever and self sabotage in interviews, so I don’t know how to get to this next phase of my life. It's tricky because I don’t mean to sabotage, I just feel guilty when I talk myself up, so I try to compensate by minimising what I say, or referencing times where I’ve been in trouble and made horrible mistakes.

Panel: So Sam, tell us a time when you’ve implemented a change in your work practices
Sam: Well, I used to collapse the screen when conflicting commercials so I could get through it faster, but then I realised that I was missing other important information so I expanded it.
Panel: So did other people take this on too?
Sam: Uh, well, I was the one doing it the wrong way to begin with. So I was actually in trouble. But, you know, I did change my work practices and I... can take... direction... :(

Great Sam! I was so embarrassed after that interview I couldn’t bring myself to ask them for feedback. I think I know where else I went wrong:

Panel: Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Sam: Uhhh... HR... I like people and helping and HR are important.

I just wanted to look like I had a plan. I don’t want to be in HR. The position was for an admin assistant. So much of that interview was a mess.

At least I didn’t say, “Married with kids,” when they asked me where I see myself. I did that in my first ever interview, before I knew that being married with kids isn’t something employers particularly value in their staff.

To my credit I didn’t cry in that interview. I went for a job at a different company recently and only realised half way through that I’m actually still quite traumatised from my experience at my last job. The guy interviewing me was really sympathetic about it all. In hindsight I suppose it’s almost funny.

Sympathetic man: I know you’re expecting this question, why did you leave your last job?
Sam: Well, while I enjoyed my experience there and gained many skills I feel I would like to expand my skills in other areas... and... grow... into challenges... and yeah. *stare out window*
Sympathetic man: Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Sam: *still staring out the window* Happy... that would be nice.
Sympathetic man: You seem quite burnt out.
Sam: *voice quivering* Yes!

Ah, it went downhill from there. From that point on it seemed I had appointed him as my new therapist. I mean, I started okay, mentioning skills and growing, but unfortunately I am terrible at lying, and once he knew I was burnt out it was all over. He asked me if I was ready to have a job again and I said “maybe in a few weeks”. I mean... FFS Sam, you just say yes.

I keep telling myself it will be okay. Someone is bound to find my quirks and idiosyncrasies charming.

I was thinking of becoming a maid and then having a rich dreamy man think I’m a socialite when I try on a wealthy woman’s dress and then we’ll fall in love and then he'll find out that I’m really just a maid but it doesn’t matter because even though we are worlds apart the only distance separating us is a subway ride between Manhattan and the Bronx.

Or I could go the Pretty Woman ‘route’.

Or I could just keep on applying for this allusive ‘real job’. I firmly believe that someone is going to have all of their merits list decline the position, and then I’ll be there, ready to be scraped from the bottom of their barrel. I’m reliable like that.

Who knows, some day I might be their first choice. Each interview is getting better, and I would make fabulous eye-candy for the office.

Quick! Hire that forward thinking vision of progress!

Fortunes for the famished

I was doing a tarot reading for myself on the living room floor, when I had an outburst:
“Gyaarrrrhhhh, none of these are what I was wanting!”
To which dad responded
“Well what were you expecting?”
“I’m kinda hungry; I thought it’d be about that.”

So now I’m making my own tarot deck.

The Sam Williams Food Deck of Food Related Fortune.

There will be four delicious suits:

Sandwiches:
- The Ham of Sandwiches
To draw the Ham of Sandwiches augurs a period of non-kosher delights.

- The Peanut Butter of Sandwiches
The Peanut Butter of Sandwiches heralds a time of going back to ones roots and rediscovering the simple pleasures of things being stuck to the roof of one’s mouth.

- The Club of Sandwiches

The Club of Sandwiches can stand for a mood or experience that makes you feel like dancing and singing.

Soups:
- The Tomato of Soups
The Tomato of Soups indicates a time of challenging preconceived notions of temperature. Whether life is to be heated or gazpacho is yet to be seen, but with new knowledge and insight one can grow into an open minded individual, eager for the next delicious treat in their culinary journey.

- The French Onion of Soups

The French Onion of Soups is a time of romance and haughtiness.

- The Nazi of Soup
When the Nazi of Soup enters a spread a time of snap decision-making and cold judgement can be seen to be emerging. The Nazi of Soup may enter one’s life as a man of few words and strict rules, but the reward for pleasing the Nazi of Soup far surpasses the mild inconvenience of having to respect authority.

Sauces:
- The Hollandaise of Sauces
The Hollandaise of Sauces augurs a time of zest and vigour. Perhaps travel is on the horizon, or nice sleep in. Whichever the case, a break from the mundane is imminent.

- The Apple of Sauces

Apples are traditionally bad omens, and the Apple of Sauces is no exception. The negative characteristics of apples, such as spoiling our precious barrels, or the doctor repelling qualities of apples, point to a time of contaminated shipping and untreated lacerations. The good news is that apples are delicious, and the negative effects of apples are usually temporary, unless you receive them from a smooth talking snake.

- The Awesome of Sauces
There is a 65% chance you will encounter a duck. Whether it is a Mallard, Peking or of the rubber variety remains to be seen, but the experience will be legendary.

Salads:
- The Greek of Salads
When the Greek of Salads appears it is a time for deep contemplation over those summer nights.

- The Caesar of Salads
The Caesar of Salads augurs a period of great success and prosperity. Be careful not to become too conceited or arrogant, as you may find yourself being stabbed in the back. And front. 23 times.

- The Garden of Salads

The Garden of Salads is a delightful card, heralding a time of fruitful abundance and satiety.

Then you have the major condiments:

- The Salt
When the Salt appears it is time for the individual to partake in an osmosis regarding their feelings and salinity. The transfer of semi-permeable memories will serve to enrich the experience, and a more appetising life is ready to be enjoyed.

- The Pepper
The Pepper is all it is ‘cracked’ up to be. A ‘season’ of red-hot fun is available for those who embrace their ‘pep’.

- The Sugar
Sweet frivolity is abundant when the Sugar appears. This fun and flirty card indicates a time of good intentions, and a lack of consequences to one’s actions, unless you happen to be a petrol tank.

- The MustardThis card cautions one to steer clear of conservatories with candlesticks.

- The Secret Spices
No one knows what this card augurs.

2am philosophy

I’m pretty impatient.

I think I broke my computer. The Internet dropped out while I was in the middle of doing my tax return, so I thought, “I’ll show you” and turned my computer off. However, when I tried to turn it back on it was taking ages, so I turned it off while it was trying to start up. Then I started it again and it went to repair mode. When it was taking too long to repair I turned it off again.

It’s currently trying to start up again. It’s taking way too long, so I put a coat on over my pyjamas and I've driven over to my parents’ place. At 1:30am.

I might buy a new computer. This is kind of my approach to life; if it’s too hard, give up. I don’t know where I got this philosophy. I don’t think anyone has really expected much from me, so "at-least-you-almost-tried" has been sufficient.

This was until recently. It’s weird; lately I’ve been a bit ‘gung ho’ with my life, which has never ever been the case. I remember being in year 10 and having no idea what subjects to choose for college. My friends all seemed to have it together, and most have followed the paths they chose back when they were 16, but I was terrified of choosing the wrong subjects and ruining my life.

It turns out ruining your life isn’t so bad. I’ve ruined my life on *many* occasions now. People are remarkably resilient. I spent my first year out of school just fucking everything up. I went to (and subsequently withdrew from) CIT twice, messed up at two jobs and burned bridges with two of my major friendship groups. My life was a mess.

From there I enrolled at the University of Canberra to do Nursing. The next year I enrolled in Communication and Media Production. I completed that degree, then jumped into full time employment. Rebuilding my life has been a tough, slow and sometimes painful process. I've always had it in my head that the only measure for ‘success’ is ‘gainful employment’.

So when I quit my job in July I was certain I had ruined my life again. It turns out that some time to reflect was exactly what I needed. I’ve been plodding along for years without really thinking what I want to be doing, or where I want to be.

As it turns out I know where I see myself in five years. Ready?

A Supermodel!

Nah, I kid. I just want to be happy. I want to know myself, be good at what I do and just keep developing new skills and interests. Even if the new skills and interests are personal development; growth is imperative.

So, I think that’s my quest in this life, to overcome this unrequited and profound self-hatred. Starting… Now.

Managing situations

So, I’m not the most awesome driver. In fact, in year 12 I was voted by my peers the “worst driver of the year”. I think it was that time I tried to reverse hill-start my Ute while trying to wag school and I crashed into another student’s car. I then went crying to the deputy principal, who sought out some burly men from my year to push my car off the other person’s car. Then the deputy principal had to hill-start my car for me and I was left to drive into the distance with everyone knowing I was skipping school. It was awkward.

The other morning I got a phone call which went like this:

Me: Hello, Sam speaking!

Police: Hi, this is Mark from the Australian Federal Police.

My first thought was “I don’t remember making a job application to the Police, but I will run with it.

Me: Oh... Hi!

Police: Do you know where your car is?

Oh God, someone’s stolen my car! I have errands!

Me: errr... I think so... do, ummm... should I go outside?

Police: Oh, we know where your car is, there are some officers outside who would like to ask you some questions.

Oh no... What have I done this time?

So I put some pants on and went outside where there was a paddy wagon, two police officers and one very displeased neighbour. I tried to assess the situation, but the combination of it being morning (11am) and having a previous adverse experience with the police was freaking me out. I was already projecting my impending arrest.

“Ma’am, can you explain this scratch on your car?”

I looked from my car to my neighbours house and realised someone had crashed into their garage, and the house shaped dent in my car was looking pretty suss at that moment.

“Ohhh! No, I, haha, crashed into my parents’ house!”

This statement is true. I did it one morning while running late for an exam, which I passed despite my lack of spacial perception. So I was explaining how I go about driving into things and one officer asks for my licence.

I ran inside to get my licence when I remembered I’m still on a probationary licence, which I obtained through my criminal disregard for the law.

So there I was explaining why my licence is blue when I realise the address on my licence is my parents’ address. So then I was explaining why my dodgy licence has a dodgy address and that driving into houses is just a matter of course for me. I then passionately declared:

“I’m not a great driver, but I didn’t do that!” while pointing at my neighbour’s garage.

Telling the police I’m not a great driver is probably not a great way to preface my innocence. But somehow the police officers eventually said they believed me, so I guess my passionate speech resonated in the hearts and minds of our law enforcement officials.

After they left I was standing there with my displeased neighbour. I then proceeded to apologise. Rather profusely. I felt sorry for him having to go through the trauma of dealing with insurance companies, but unfortunately in this circumstance it came across as, “I’m sorry I broke your house.” He looked at me accusingly and I didn’t know how to explain to him what I was apologising for so I apologised again and ran back inside my house.

Managing situations is not really my strong point, especially situations involving the police.

During a ‘routine vehicle inspection’ a police woman told me there’s nothing to worry about. I was petrified, but I didn’t realise I had panic and terror written all over me, I thought I was playing it pretty cool up until that point.

To my detriment I am pretty expressive. I can’t seem to hide any of my thoughts. I even have different giggles depending on what I’m thinking. I could probably sustain a conversation based on giggling. Don’t test me on that.

Social awkwardness

So, socially I’m pretty awkward. On the whole I’m happy with my introverted lifestyle, with spontaneous bursts of extraversion, followed by guilt and more introversion. I occasionally enjoy a splash of omniversion.

Om nom nomniversion.

I think I’m what they call an ambivert.

Eeenyway. I have a few people I’m comfortable talking to, and then there’s the rest of the world. The other night one of the rest of the world was my 11 year old cousin. She’s from Scotland and my dad’s over there and I was talking to him on the phone and he’s like, “here talk to your cousin!” and I was all, “oh no no no!” and then she was on the phone.

Our conversation went something like this:

Sam: Hi, how are you?
Cousin: Hi, I’m fine thanks.
Sam: I like your accent
Cousin: Thanks, I like your accent too
Sam: Cool… Thanks
…
Sam: How crazy is the time?
Cousin: Yeah, what’s the time there?
Sam: ummmmm… like 6pm.
…
Sam: Well, I have to go and things. Have a good day!
*hang up*

And then I went and hid in my room.

This isn’t isolated. I’ve run off from shopping centres because kids talk to me.

5 year old boy: I like this bracelet. Purple is my favourite colour. I don’t think there should be boys’ and girls’ colours because you should like whatever colour you want.
Sam: Yeah, you’re an inspiration :).

And then I nodded and kept nodding and walked off while nodding and got to my car and drove home and hid in my room.

I did truly think that child was an inspiration. You challenge that hegemony, kid!

My awkwardness extends to the Internet. I like asynchronous communication, I can think about the implications of my words before they’re blurted out. But sometimes I take too long to think, and then it’s been a couple of days without replying to an email, and then I feel awkward and don’t want to send an email and remind the person they sent me an email which I hadn’t replied to yet, so I stop checking my email altogether.

And it’s similar with facebook messages I haven’t replied to. I won’t update my status or comment on things so people think, “maybe she just hasn’t been online for a while?” But I have, I’m just lurking and being creepy until I think they’ve forgotten they sent me a message. *sigh*.

Anyway. I don’t know how I got to be so socially uncomfortable. People have noted I have “staple sentences”. Mostly “oh wow!” “that’s nice!” and “oh no!”. I think I turn to these when I’m not sure what to say. Though I do genuinely like things that are nice. And I like telling people when I like things.

Like you, sexy blog reader ;).

my indomitable spirit

I have never wanted to be myself.

All my life I have wanted to be someone else. The first person I wanted to be was my second cousin Marielle (who I still kinda would like to be). She’s a stunner! One day we were jumping on a bed and she wore this pretty dress and just looked so princessy. For the rest of my childhood I insisted on wearing dresses.

When I was 3 I went to a school in England, and there was a girl called Rebecca who had the longest hair! oh I wanted to be her so much! She knocked over some blocks one day and the teachers were fine with it. When I copied her I got sent outside to the stairs.

When I was 6 I had a family friend. She was pretty and cute and had so many barbie dolls and I just wanted to be her. She has a slight stutter at the time, so I developed a minor stutter for a bit. True story. It was a hard habit to break.

Ashley. I’ve always wanted to be Ashley.

Girls at high school. Girls at uni. Girls I’ve never even met.

Today I decided I want to be me. I want to know who I am, instead of trying to be someone/anyone else. Who knows, I might actually be a decent person. Maybe.

I’ll take the parts of the girls I like and try apply them to myself. I like her demeanour; I’ll drink more herbal tea and be calmer. I like the way she does her makeup; I’ll spend more time gussying up. But I wont try to be them. I’ll modify it. Make it my own. I’ll finally be myself - but without the self-loathing.

I can be who I want to be.

I am Sam!