And now a word from the 'No More D*ck Pics' girl - Samantha Mawdsley Pt 1

My name is Samantha Mawdsley and I am not funny, just so you know. If the people who love me the most were to describe me, they would use words like sweet, honest, enthusiastic, caring, generous, ditzy, sensitive, or loud. But they would run through a heck of a lot more adjectives before they got to funny. My dad said "oh, I don't know. You're funny in a quirky way" so even he doesn't rely on me for witty one-liners and acerbic zingers. So know that I didn't do all this to become the next Amy Schumer. In fact the only reason I did do this is because James told me not to. Pure and simple.

I also want to address the fact that I have seen a handful of people dismissing 'No More D*ck Pics' as fake. To be honest, I can see where they're coming from. James did start to turn into a stereotype of the kind of dudebro who thinks sending a happy snap of their junk is an opening line. But rest assured (or depressed), this whole exchange actually happened as reported. I have also been approached by many other women who have received e-Polaroids from Mr D*ck Pic himself. That, of course, does not confirm that James is a real personal profile, but I hope it does confirm that I didn't create a fake profile and send myself unsolicited penis imagery. Of course, if I sent them to myself, they're no longer unsolicited but that's getting a bit circular. Just rest assured that there was somebody I don't know logged into the account known as James.

So what actually did happen? Let me start from the start, in my own words.

I went to bed after having a few drinks while watching the Euros at around 1.30am on what was technically Sunday June 12. As always, the last thing I did was check my Facebook. That's when I saw the little notification - but why in the hell would somebody be commenting on a restaurant review I left months ago? Now I know that James knew what he was doing. If he hadn't commented, I would not have received any kind of notification and would not have checked my filtered message requests for weeks, if ever. Who actually looks at them?! And I guess James wanted to engage with me. Or he wanted me to engage with his penis anyway. But I hypothesise that he wanted both of us to be online at the same time so a conversation could ensue. I suppose I obliged.

To begin with, my immediate reaction was a mixture of revulsion and humiliation. I am not ashamed to admit that I have been the victim of this kind of sexual harassment offline too. When I was 15 and wearing my school uniform, I was in a public library waiting for my trampolining lesson to start. I suddenly heard a strange noise beside me. I looked over at the man there and noticed that he was staring at me intently while masturbating. I instantly went numb and felt completely powerless. I felt a hot mix of shame and fear and for some reason, my body did not or could not react. What I wish I'd done now is jump back while screaming loudly. I wish everyone in that library had turned to see what the commotion was and found themselves staring at an exposed penis and a terrified schoolgirl. I wish he'd been tackled by good Samaritans who came to my aid, and he'd been arrested. I wish I'd bravely pressed charges and, with the support of my family, faced the perpetrator and ensured this never happened to another girl. But what I actually did was quietly shift in my seat so that I couldn't see him, wait until a minute or two had passed, and then quickly take my books to wait in the gymnasium reception. At this point, I wonder if there are men reading who don't understand and feel they would have reacted differently. I wonder if there are women reading who completely understand and feel they would have done the same thing. If that is the case, please take a moment to ponder why that is.

So here I am, twice as old, feeling those same feelings. And with the bravado that can only come from alcohol and a buffer of 4,426 miles, I chose a different reaction - which was anything but staying silent, really!

My first response came from a place of anger and wanting him to just go away. But I didn't want him to feel like he'd elicited any kind of emotional response from me. Yes, I fell back on the lazy and ridiculous notion that 'bigger is better', but I have the feeling that was the level James was playing at and the lowest common denominator is always the easiest. So I googled "large dick pic" and found a somewhat lengthier penis to show James.

And this, dear reader, is where I thought this whole event would stop. But James was not impressed with this response and tried to call me out. When he said he was "nice", I decided to ignore the fact he obviously meant by complimenting my eyes (yeah, ok...) and pretend I thought he meant by sending me a portrait of a penis. I was then as "nice" as I could be, alternating between saving photos and sending them on to James.





James responded with some misogyny. After my cheap shot about penis-size, I suppose I deserved it. But James called on the misogyny and raised me some homophobia - what a class act!



Like that annoying friend showing you their favourite movie for the first time, I am going to poke you in the ribs and say here comes the best part - then I'm going to mouth along with my favourite quote...

I just want to puke just stop please

Cue more phallic pinups...

For some reason, James suddenly decided I had besmirched his penile honour and leapt to its defence! I never insulted his penis, but trust me, it really does have a bump thing on it. I don't know why he got so defensive. I didn't want to go the low blow of penis-size again, but I did want to highlight how unremarkable his penis is, so I told him so.

Then I realised what I had said - "sea of dicks". Like I said, I am not funny, but I laughed at that, and promptly sent him another wave of wangs.

James was unimpressed and tried to explain that there was something wrong with me. I, of course, brought out my piñata of logic and beat it with my stick of truth. But James was too busy missing the point elsewhere.

Happy with my obvious victory, I was content to be done and leave him with a final trading of insults.

Buuuuuut the temptation to get in some more sneaky unsolicited dick pics was too much. I figured he would give up as he was clearly getting nowhere with me - I was impervious to his manly charms!

But James just kept checking his messages. Like, did he think that instead of another wiener, it would be me saying "My beloved! Please wait! I fear I have erred, for I now see that yours is the only willy for me! Whilst thou ever forgive me?"

I apologise if my next comment comes across as homophobic, but please know it was actually meant to be completely seriously! Obviously I don't actually think James is gay, but I do 1,000% think it's ok to be gay! But if I do inadvertantly offend anyone, I wholeheartedly apologise!

For the record, that is the actual site I was getting the penises off. Maybe you could play Bellend Bingo? Or not. So I kept up with my belief that he would tire of my steady stream of schlongs...

And this was very nearly where it ended until this...

If you notice, there is now suddenly a nine minute jump in the time. That's because I stopped talking to him at 1.38am to screenshot the entire exchange, and this took me until 1.41am. It is timestamped that I didn't even consider doing anything with this conversation until this vile little weasel told me not to. I didn't screenshot anything else for another nine minutes.

I swear this was accidental. It was only as I typed "lots of penises" that I was all "LOL - I did it again!". Like I said at the start, I am not funny! I was also unprepared for this because the careful observer will notice that I started repeating penises.

I also gave the piñata of logic another whack and this time it broke! But James dodged all the sweet candy realisations...

Instead, he triumphantly held aloft a nugget of misogyny!

I then vaguely accused him of paedophilia only to have him jump on the word 'little'. I meant the penis pics that were little, rather than the pics of a little penis, but I guess James has a complex or something...

You can see it's now 2am, I am really tired and I just want him to stop. It is only pure stubbornness that is keeping me going at this point (and tiredness is not an excuse, I apologise for the following casual comment which is not trans-inclusive).

You can see again that I really thought the conversation was over (2am screenshot!)

My little cogs are turning over and it is starting to dawn on me that of all the possible outcomes of a guy like James sending a woman an unsolicited dick pic, the one they fear most - perhaps the only one they fear - is being publicly outed as a digital flasher.

Despite how tired I was, I was still clearly remembering the way the conversation went. I am pretty awful to argue with, and wasn't going to let this talent be withheld from James.

You can see I even start getting antsy thinking that he will suddenly delete the conversation (although I am not sure that is even possible in hindsight?) and I screenshot while he was still typing. Turns out he was busy getting pretty damn desperate...

But I am really starting to tire now and don't have it in me to keep arguing.

Realising his feeble attempt at mustering niceness might have been in vain, seeing as I haven't gone weak at the knees over his insistence that he was "kind with me girl", he reverts back to his default position of misogyny and swearing.

I didn't know what I planned to do with the screenshots at this point, but I figured a safe bet was sending them to Bye Felipe, an amazing instagram account and podcast that calls guys out on their behaviour when dealing with women who are not interested them in. I didn't care that he didn't know what the hashtag meant and decided to go to sleep.

Now as I settled in to sleep, I wondered what I would do with the pics. I decided that since James was in America and had a few more hours left of awake time, if he decided to apologise I would not post the screenshots. That was absolutely and honestly my decision as I went to sleep.

Now I only have around 400 Facebook friends, most of whom I know from real life, so the post going viral was not actually a possibility I considered. I thought a couple might get a laugh from my sense of humour, and maybe one or two would even share it. So when I woke up and there was nothing in my inbox (he hadn't even blocked me or anything), I decided to do the only thing that James seemed to fear.

I uploaded 45 screenshots in an album I titled 'No More D*ck Pics', covered the offensive parts of the pictures with Facebook stickers and hit publish. It was such a non-event to me. I called my dad in Australia as I usually do and even mentioned it to him, just so he wasn't shocked to see me posting something so sexual. After explaining what a 'dick pic' is, Dad told me he was proud of me for standing up to the twerp.

When I got off the phone, I checked my Facebook. The post had been shared about five times by then. More shares than I'd ever had before. My friends had also started commenting and two said they wanted to send James pics too. I laughed at the screenshots they sent me when they did. At that point, I knew James would be aware that I had posted it and that was literally all that mattered to me regarding the whole incident - that he didn't get away with it. But then the number of shares started going up. And up. And up. My friends were delightedly commenting s the numbers hit 500, 600, 700. 1,000 and still growing!

The next morning when I woke up, the post had over 10,000 shares. My Facebook filtered messages, a button I never thought of before, suddenly contained hundreds of messages - "Are you THE Samantha Mawdsley?" I was flooded with friend requests. In the 15 minutes it took me to walk to work, 'No More D*ck Pics' was shared another 300 times.

It was then that I said to my boyfriend "umm... I think I'm in trouble..."

Making time to be bored

Note: I am still working on Part 2 of 'Disneyland & this semi-charmed kind of life...'

When was the last time you were bored? I mean mind-numbingly, kick-the-dirt, nothing-to-do bored?

I am so bored right now...

I can't exactly remember my last time, but I know it was in 2009. This is because I got my first iPhone in August of 2009 and I haven't truly been bored since. With constant internet access, there is always something to do - even if it is just refreshing my Twitter timeline. "Bored" has now taken on a new meaning. I will do something pointless just to avoid feeling bored - even though the "something pointless" is boring! I just feel better that I am doing any menial task. In fact, I clearly remember waiting in line at Subway sometime in 2010 and thinking to myself that I needed to follow more people on Twitter because my timeline wasn't updating quick enough. I also once spent late nights trawling through interesting hashtags to find cool people in England or America to follow so that they would be tweeting while the rest of my Australian Twitter feed was sleeping and my timeline got slow. I not only actively avoided being bored, I took precautions to ensure I would not be bored in the future.

Lately, I've decided that I need to stop being entertained 24/7. I just don't need it. Instead of seeking entertainment, I think. Remember thinking? Just letting your thoughts run? Sometimes I word text messages to people that I will never send. Sometimes I sing lyrics. Sometimes I replay conversations. Sometimes I ponder my life.

Yes, it is often boring and being bored is not something people normally actively seek. That is the point. But it can also be liberating. Do you know how many times I have had epiphanies while bored? The time spent thinking when you're bored is different to that time just before you fall asleep. Your mind is clearer, your inner voice a lot more audible and your logic a little more attuned. It is when I am bored that I come to conclusions such as, "In all actuality, he didn't text me once between when he asked me on a date and when he texted on the day to confirm. But I never doubted how much he liked me back then. Nothing has changed. He just doesn't text that much." This was a nagging thought that had bothered me for days and in a moment of being utterly bored, the answer suddenly came to me. It has [sadly] reduced my stress levels!

In a life where we are so connected, I have decided that there are moments when I can just turn off and de-stress. I plan to take advantage of this. Relish it, even. Of course, it is a sign of the times that this doesn't ever mean being uncontactable. For me, that would be counter-productive as I would stress more - imagining crazy, elaborate emergency scenarios in which lives would be lost because I didn't answer a call or read a text message. My phone even sits on the sink while I shower. But I am going to continue to withdraw myself from constant entertainment, and this is how.

* I used to have a TV & DVD player in my bathroom. I would watch episodes of Buffy in the bath. Before that, I would always read a book in the bath. Even in a shower, I would play music and dance. It's fun, but you miss out on being bored. So I am now having showers and baths sans-music or without placing my laptop on the floor.

* When I walk somewhere, I am no longer taking my iPod as a default. It is reserved for long periods only. The 45 minute journey to meet my friend on the other side of London meets my requirements. My 15 minute walk to work does not. Instead, I walk and let the sounds of traffic and birds blend into a melodic hum - the soundtrack of life. Real life. While music may not be as much of a boredom-killer as screwing around on an iPhone, it can detract from thoughts. "Should I look for a new job? What do I want out of life? Maybe I could... Oh my God! I love this song! This is my jam!"

* When I am waiting for something like an appointment or a friend, I try not to check my iPhone constantly anymore. With Twitter and Facebook in my pocket, I can always find someone online to talk to - something else to think about - a news story or blog post to read. But I don't need to. At least, I shouldn't need to. Today, my friend was running late. Having my iPhone allowed me to get the text message telling me as much and that was great. So I sat in a coffee shop to wait. But after sending two or three tweets and posting a redundant picture to Instagram (nobody cares what my hot chocolate and piece of carrot cake looked like!), I decided to just sit. I put my phone on the table in front of me and I just stared vacantly out of the window. Thinking. I thought about the last time my friend and I hung out. I thought about what we would do today. I thought about some things I hadn't told him and would bring up in conversation through the day. And when he did arrive, I was in such a good mood and so happy to see him. All because I was bored.

I am ok just to sit and do nothing...

With all these life / mindset changing epiphanies and mood enhancements, I am actually starting to rather enjoy being bored. Perhaps you should give it a try next time you reach for your smart phone just because you're "bored".

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• When was the last time you were truly bored?
• What do you do to actively alleviate boredom?

Honestly, I just have thanatophobia & OCD

I am an honest person by nature. I mean that in the sense that I am not deceitful or deceptive. But I also mean I am forthcoming and open.

Sometimes I worry that I am judged negatively for my honesty and that, in the eyes of an extremely negative or jaded person, I could be viewed as attention seeking. I like attention, yes. I am human. But that is not my motivation behind my honesty - especially in regards to my mental health.

People view the mentally ill in a negative fashion. They just do. They're seen as a little bit scary, unstable and weak. Depending on the type of mental illness, this attitude can vary but it's never exactly positive, is it? I don't want to have people feel that way about me. I don't want them to be on eggshells, wondering what is happening inside my head. And aside from that, I don't want to hide. I am not ashamed of my mental illnesses. I didn't choose them and I refuse to be ashamed of something that is outside of my control.

There is another reason for my honesty too. I want to help people. When I told my psychologist about my attitude towards my mental illnesses and that I refused to be ashamed or hide them, he told me he wished he could bottle my attitude and give it to his other patients. I want people to see that it's OK to be honest. It's not OK to be mentally ill in that you don't need to seek treatment or try to get better, but it is OK in that you shouldn't need to hide or pretend. I think this helps with recovery. I know it helps me with mine!

I also know that my thanatophobia is rare. And if it is not rare, it is rarely spoken of. And one is as bad as the other for a sufferer. So I talk. I share my experiences and my thoughts. I tell my story in real time. And I am honest.

And sometimes, something happens that makes me realise I am doing the right thing. Don't get me wrong, I have detractors. I've heard myself referred to as a narcissist, an attention-seeker, a liar and just a good ol' fashioned nut job. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. I am very slowly developing the thick skin needed to carve myself out a corner of the internet for projecting my voice from. And I don't feed the trolls.

Yesterday, an article was written about me in the Sunday Mail. I was interviewed about my job running the 100+ Club and the book that I have written (which you can purchase here) when the conversation turned to my thanatophobia. I believe the journalist had checked out my social media presence. Anyway, she was so fascinated by our brief conversation that the next day she asked if she could do a whole story just on me and my mental health. This would never have happened without my trademark honesty.

Well a flurry of people sought my Facebook page and in turn, joined my little support group, The Safe Space. They told me they thought they were alone - the only sufferer in the world - crazy. But reading my story helped them. Some, profoundly. And none of this, none, would have happened without my honesty! And my favourite comment is this one, from a lady named Narelle: "I was in tears when I was reading the write up in the Sunday paper this morning. When I started to read other people's messages and their own experience I couldn't believe there were other people going through the exact same fears as myself. It was almost a relief knowing I wasn't alone in this."

So judge away, world. Whisper behind my back, call me crazy and call me a narcissist. But I am making a difference in this world. I am helping people and I am damn proud of who I am and what I am achieving. Honestly.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you ever hide who you are?
• Under what circumstances should someone hide their true self?

I "haven't known love". Or so I'm told...

Please note: I absolutely do not intend to offend anyone with this post - just like I know nobody who made or posted the photo in this blog intended to offend anyone.

Please read this post in the spirit it was intended.

This image came up in my timeline. Just read it over.

How did that make you feel? Did you feel all warm & fuzzy, nodding your head enthusiastically? You either have a child or want children rather badly. Am I right? I don't know... Well for me, it makes me rather angry. I don't have children. I have no real desire to have children. And because I don't meet the criteria marked out by this Facebook picture then I haven't known love. I'm not exaggerating. That's what it says. Right there, "You haven't known love." Direct quote.

Well I don't know who originally wrote this (and for that matter, why they even felt the need) but I beg to differ!

I have counted the perfect little fingers and toes of my friend's baby - a baby I watched enter the world and who I shared in the grief with his parents as we held him as he died two days later. That's love.

I held the hand of my high school boyfriend and felt my heart beat so fast it nearly exploded out of my chest. That's love.

I kissed the nose of my puppy and felt her lick my cheek back. That's love.

I soothed the tummy of my uni boyfriend as he was very ill and I wished I could do something to take away his pain. That's love.

I have read my blog posts out to my dad while he sits quietly and we talk about all sorts of things - things that one day, I may never get to talk to him about anymore. That's love.

I have wiped the tears of my best friend as she dealt with pain, heartache and sorrow. That's love.

And I'm sorry but "powdering a little booty" is not high on my list of things to do.

So how dare the creator of this photo insinuate that I have not "known love" because I haven't spawned my own offspring? I have not experienced the love a parent feels for their child, it's true. But I have known love. I have loved deeply and I have loved passionately. But I don't feel the need to jam this down everybody's throat. Why do some parents?

Most of the girls on my Facebook have children. I get that. We're mostly around 26 so yeah, child bearing age. But I don't. And it's by choice. (Imagine how I would feel looking at this photo if it was not by choice? What if I desperately longed for a child but could not conceive?) I could have had a child if I wanted to. Once upon a time I had a long term boyfriend or a "partner" as you start calling your boyfriend when you want to be taken more seriously but aren't engaged or married. I even owned a house and bought Better Homes and Gardens magazines. We discussed it but I have never really felt the need to procreate.

Anyway, now I love my life. For me, it is damn near perfect just the way it is. In fact, to be totally honest, I am wary of talking too much about how much I love my life and about all the wonderful things that happen for fear of upsetting people who have lives that are different to mine (if that makes sense?) It's not that I think my life is the ultimate in perfection, but for me, it really is. And I am concious that I may have things others covet and I am not about to start gloating about that. I have a job that I love and am about to become a published author. I have the time to chill out and write my blog, play video games and was easily able to make the commitment to join an amazing football team. I sleep in every weekend. Sometimes I don't get out of bed until midday because I'm just laying around all cozy-like playing around on my iPad. And it's not a treat. It's just a Saturday. I drive a brand new car and yes, I am about to pack up and move to England for around four months because I have nothing tying me down. Now I didn't pick and choose what I mentioned then, I just listed the things in my life that make me happiest. But in all actuality, I couldn't really do any of them if I had a child. I just couldn't. And one of my favourite things about my life is I have no idea where I will be in a year's time. My future could bring anything and I have so much to look forward to! But does that mean I have not known love? Maternal love, no. I have not known that. But love is different to every person and every situation.

You know, I tried to find a photo to counter the one in this post. I actually tried really hard. I couldn't find one. (Unless you count Breeder Bingo!) Nobody has bothered to make an "I love my life as a single, childless woman" picture thing. I hope that's because they're too busy actually living the life they love and not because there aren't any happy, single, childless women. So I really have to wonder, why do these "I love being a mummy" pictures even exist? And in all different shapes and forms! Who is making them and why? And really, when people announce time and time again how much they love their life and their children it gets old and I'm sorry if this seems rude but I start to wonder, who are they trying to convince? Me? Or themselves?

I get that people love their children and in their words, they love them more than anything else in the world. And that's great. I am honestly happy for them. I truly hope they feel the same satisfaction and happiness with their lives as I do with mine. But how dare someone tell me I do not "know love" and insinuate that my life is anything less than perfect because I don't have children?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you have children or not? Are you happy with this decision?
• What would your ideal life be?
• Have I missed the point with these kinds of images?

"I believe anything less than mad, passionate, extraordinary love is a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn't be one of them."

Why I love Twitter but tolerate Facebook

Hello. My name is Samantha and I am a Twitter addict.

Well then you have no soul!!

Do you realise there are 582 people in the world who are hanging on to my every word, wondering what I will tweet next? At least, I like to believe there is. And who am I to deny the public what it wants. Supply and demand, people! And I've supplied the Twittersphere with 26,742 little drops of wisdom and humour. Ok, and a few photos of food I am about to eat. But those 582 people aren't under any sort of obligation to follow me. They choose to. If my posts take a direction they don't like or they finally get sick of me live-Tweeting Liverpool matches, they can (and do) unfollow me. Que Sera, Sera.

I have made new real life friends from Twitter (have even been asked on dates) and scored lots of cool free stuff - over $100 worth of Diva jewellery, anyone? Two nights accommodation in Melbourne thanks to WotIf? Yeah! I have been the first to know about breaking news and in turn, broken the news to my Facebook friends. I have witnessed scandal and suspicion and interacted directly with some of my favourite people in the world.

I have an iPhone. People always joke that I'm addicted to my iPhone but that's simply not true. Take my Echofon app off it & it would be much like my old Nokia 3315. It makes phone calls & receives text messages. But with Twitter, it's like carrying around your friends in your pocket. Waiting for a dentist appointment? Tweet about it & be entertained with a joke. Feeling sad? Tweet about it & let your friends cheer you up. Need advice? Ask Twitter if they can help with your problem. Don't know what to have for lunch? Do a quick Twitter poll. Don't want to watch a TV show alone? Search for the show's hashtag and join the conversation. Don't know something and need it explained in layman's terms? Tweet it with the hashtag #LazyWeb. Lost your dog? Tweet a photo and details and watch as your search for your dog becomes a trending topic as hundreds of strangers are on the lookout. Interested in the Titanic? Watch as @TitanicRealTime live tweets the whole event as it happened 100 years ago.

Basically my main argument for why any anti-Twitter sentiment is wrong is pretty much this. Twitter is only as awesome as the people you follow. I follow 378 carefully selected Twitter accounts. Some of them are celebrities, some are football related, some are humorous accounts, some are people I know in real life, some are just random citizens of this planet. I've been on Twitter for three years now. In three years, that's all I've accumulated - 378 accounts to follow. I've followed and then unfollowed some accounts but that's what happens on Twitter. It's no big deal like on Facebook. Facebook has this weird social obligation to be "friends" with someone who was in that Maths B class you took for a month before the school realised you weren't smart enough for algebra and you now have to put up with every single damn post about their toddler. On Twitter, those rules aren't as set in stone. With most people, you can just unfollow them. I've ignored friend requests from people who bullied me in high school. Why in the name of Kuzco the talking llama would they think I want to be "friends" with them?

Now if anything I've said about Facebook has left you confused or worse, you actually thought 'Luckily every one of my Facebook friends hangs on my every status update regarding the cute things about little Tilloffonee' (or whatever you named your spawn), then we probably won't be Twitter friends. Or you might follow me, but I probably won't follow you back. Twitter is all about MY interests and I'm sorry but I don't care what Tilloffonee did next. I liked your status when you announced you you were pregnant and again when you HAD the baby. That's it. I'm done. I don't like children all that much but I was happy for you! I would have looked at the first photo of your newborn and probably liked it, but from there on out, you became dead to me. I glaze over when you start posting about Tilloffonee and probably only get broken out of my stupor by some hilarious @ mention someone has posted on Twitter.

But notice I said I 'liked' your posts? Chances are I didn't comment because I don't want to be notified every time someone else posts the exact same damn post. "Congrats!", "OMG Congrats!" or the ever thrilling "Congrats x". I don't care. Besides, my post would have just been the same as that anyway. I recognise this.  If someone on Twitter gets a particularly entertaining response to the announcement, they will retweet it. Then I will read it. But on Twitter, I don't have to see any conversations between two people unless I choose to follow both of them. And when those conversations get annoying, I have been known to choose my favourite of the two and unfollow the other. Problem solved. Twitter is my world and it is my prerogative to mould it exactly how I want it to appear.

Nobody follows the exact same 378 accounts I do. If a Twit just wants their feed to be filled with musicians, then that's what they do. They may be followed by sports fanatics, new mums and porn stars but they don't have to care about that. It's their Twitter feed that becomes their own personal Twittersphere. How many followers you have is irrelevant (until the @ mentions start, then Twitter can get really awesome!) But people reading this may be bored to tears with my Twitter feed. In fact, here is my Twitter feed as it appears right now. Not that interesting, right?

{Click to enlarge}

But I don't care what you think, because I find it interesting. I may be bored to tears by other's Twitter feeds. So what?

You see, Twitter is like free speech and who doesn't love free speech? Communists, that's who! And you don't want to be known as a Communist, do you?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Do you prefer Facebook or Twitter? Why?
• Have you ever tried Twitter? What happened?
• Should I be following you on Twitter? Plead your case! :P
• Why aren't you following @SAMawdsley and @Princess_Sassy?

Notice I don't own Facebook merch.?

Pining for pineapple! (Or 'How excited a girl can get over chocolate...')

Cadbury Snack chocolate. It's awesome because there's something for everyone.

In order of my favourites, it's got:

Cadbury Snack

Pineapple - a delicious fruity flavour with just a hint of tanginess
Turkish Delight - a sophisticated jelly like filling that's very sweet and palatable
Caramel - an old favourite from such familiar chocolates as Caramello!
Orange - a zesty and flavoursome filling with no overt citrusy flavours
Strawberry - a sweet filling. It tastes like pink!
Coconut Ice - a textured, Summery flavour with just a hint of sugary goodness.

Now of those, you'd expect at least the top three to be available as a block on their own. And you'd be right. Except for pineapple. The most delicious of all the flavours of not only Snack, but possibly the entire Cadbury range, is only available in a block surrounded by yummy, but lesser flavours ...Or at least, until recently!

Tonight, the following exchange took place in my local supermarket between my friend @Davefect and I.
Me: What block of chocolate do you want?
David: I don't know, what's your favourite?
Me: I usually get Snack just because I love the Pineapple flavour so much. I really, really wish Cadbury would make an entire block of just Pineapple. Ah well, we'll just get Snack.
*Suddenly, while looking for a second block, high on the top shelf, almost out of view I spotted the Holy Grail of chocolate. Cue emotional breakdown of happiness and much shrieking and jumping...*

FINALLY Cadbury has released a 'Limited Edition' Tropical Pineapple flavour!!!

TROPICAL PINEAPPLE!!!

Cadbury describes it as "Dairy milk chocolate wtih flowing tropical pineapple flavoured centre". I describe it as "The best part of Snack, now in it's OWN BLOCK!!!"

This is a happy, happy day for me but Cadbury doesn't seem to be advertising it! And like I said, it's a 'Limited Edition'. So it might go away. I can't cope with this. I've wanted it for too long and I'll be damned if Cadbury is going to take it away from me!! So please, I'm begging you, I need everyone here to rush out and buy many, many, many blocks of Tropical Pineapple so that Cadbury realises there's a HUGE demand for Tropical Pineapple and continues to keep it as part of their permanent range. Please!

Yes, your homework today is to go buy and eat chocolate. Lots of it.

You're welcome.

Update: Upon further research, this seems to have been already deleted from the range and sold out everywhere. The blocks are now selling for $10 on ebay (click the link, I'm not exaggerating!) There is also a Facebook campaign entitled 'Pineapple blocks should be permanent, not limited edition' (join the cause, dolls!) and pineapple-lovers are announcing locations that have stock and even asking lucky finders to mail out the goodies to remoter locations.  I'm trying to start a Twitter campaign with the hashtag #KeepCadburyPineapple (I've had a few retweets) but in the mentime, tomorrow, I am going to "my source" and buying every single block!!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

PS: I've not been paid or asked to post this blog, I just really, really, really love Cadbury's Pineapple flavour!


PPS: A big thank you to @Davefect for helping me with this blog post and dealing with my minor happy meltdown in the middle of a supermarket!

Writer's block? Already?

This is my second blog post and the topic is writer's block. But it's not so much to do with my blog, but my job. I am employed as an author. My nine to five job is writing a coffee table book for the 100+ Club, a free social club exclusively for people aged 100 or over. (www.facebook.com/100PlusClub <-- Please become a fan!) I am in the final stages of writing the book and my days lately consist of chaining myself to a desk at my local library and researching the last 100 years of Australian and world history. That part is fun. The library staff all know me now, I jam my headphone in my ears, take notes on my iPad and I'm allowed to eat and drink in the library (except for the fact I wear Invisalign braces, but that's a whole other story.)

What is getting me down is when I come home, iPad laden with facts and figures and fantastic little tid-bits of knowledge to add to my manuscript. I open my laptop, click on the Word document titled 'Manuscript', bring up the day's document on my iPad and sit blankly. It is getting increasingly harder to force myself to get into the frame of mind to write my manuscript. From day to day and mood to mood, I write differently. It is hard to force my writing to sound seamless when reading back. Sometimes, and maybe it's because I'm my own worst critic, I read my own writing and it feels forced and contrived. Nobody who has read my work ever comments on that, in fact I only ever hear positive feedback, but I can definitely tell when a sentence has been inserted at a later date. Or maybe I just remember, because I did it...

I need one of those memory flashy things from Men in Black and then I could read my own writing completely subjectively... somebody make that happen?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Hey, look at me! I'm on the internets!

I love the internet. I have a Twitter account, a Tumblr account, a Facebook account, a Google+ account. Heck, I used to host a weekly radio show that was all about social media on the internet. So I think it's fair to say that I, Princess_Sassy, have a pretty solid internet presence. And now I'm trying to do it all over again as Miss Samantha Mawdsley, future star of the literary world. So here I am.

So far you can follow me on Twitter (www.twitter.com/SAMawdsley) or like me on Facebook (www.facebook.com/SAMawdsley) and I wish you would! But I need to document my journey better and this is where this blog comes into it, and I thank you for reading it.

Today I bought a website domain. I am the proud owner of www.SAMawdsley.com. I don't recommend visiting that website. Not just yet, anyway. There is nothing there. I am slightly technologically retarded sometimes and building a website is one of those areas I fail at. So my ever so gracious boyfriend has offered to build it for me. I'm not sure he knows what he is in for. I am a perfectionist and I have OCD. If I see the slightest thing wrong, a missed capital letter, two spaces instead of one, a misaligned photo, it will need to be changed. So I say good luck to him. Oh, and thank you. So stay tuned! Hopefully I will have some great news on the website front soon.

In the meantime, please boost my social media following and if you have any questions, shoot!

Miss SAMawdsley xx