Saturday, September 12, 2009
WOODS = GOOD
I must've had my head up my ass when I worried that reserving a cabin for three nights was too LONG for a porn-shooting trip without running water or electricity or phones or internet of any kind. More like NOT LONG ENOUGH.
Being in the woods on the Olympic Peninsula, the proper WET woods southwest of us (unlike what we have here in the dry rainshadow), always feels like heaven to me. I'm not exaggerating: HEAVEN. Like what it would/should look and feel like if there were to be that kind of a fantasy afterlife (except I wouldn't have to be scared of having my scalp ripped off by a cougar in heaven, but I digress).
Anyway, it was great. FANTASTIC, the level of peace and tranquility I felt there. The lack of pressure and the way everything worked out just right. The way we had so much beautiful SPACE to sprawl out and shoot in with very little chance of intrusion. The way the weather couldn't have been more perfect. The way we walked for miles.
And when we got home? I pretty much instantly fell apart into a nervous wreck.
It's not that I think running off and living a "simple" life is the Answer to All My Problems or something I want on a daily basis (I don't), but experiencing it for a few days did highlight some of the things that I desperately need to fix in real life (like not having so MANY options and obligations every second of every day).
It's a small fix, but we're going to get rid of DirecTV completely and of course just keep plugging away on the usual stuff with a better reminder of what we could have if we got ahead, just a little bit: the freedom to fall behind and drop out more often . . . AND make better porn because of it. It's amazing how doing so much of my job every fucking day gets in the way of DOING MY JOB RIGHT.
Also, I have serious problems being distracted by every day life and PEOPLE and the noises they make and our computers and all of our shit, though, so coming home was like putting my head in a blender after all of that peace and quiet and fresh air. I know it sucks for voyeurs who want to watch a blissed-out horny woman rolling around in ecstasy or at least looking fresh and cute and bisected by cleavage but instead get me, frowning and muttering under my breath about how I'm going to shoot myself in the head if trivial problems and distractions interrupt my flow just one more fucking time. I am so sorry that has been the story of my lifecams for far too long.
Anyway, I would manually scratch all the skin off my left arm using the fingernails of my right if it would mean I could spend a third of my life in a cabin in the woods, peeing outside and eating pickled sausage on the back porch. Unfortunately I'll have to go about things the hard way: plodding forward, tiny steps at a time.FYI: I'll try to post more about the magic of our little cabin experience. Also, I'm posting the rest of these pictures of me by the river on Monday for members. Delia is posting a set as I type this: see SAMPLE HERE - it is SO FUCKING AWESOME to be able to get almost any angle you want from whatever distance you want unconstrained by four walls.
We have webcam shows
(with masturbation and all that jazz) and members-only chat
scheduled for tomorrow (Sunday) and Monday, so check out our schedule
if you're a member and perhaps we'll see you then!
Labels: attention deficit disorder, fears, goals, nature, Pacific Northwest, photography, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, work
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Coming Out . . . OVER and OVER Again
I'm struggling under the weight of a lot of things right now. Nothing that should be debilitating, but the end result is that I've been acting almost completely disabled. Money problems, health problems, overwhelming-to-do-list problems, incompetency problems . . . you know, life.
The struggle on my mind right now is trying to figure out how much energy to expend on conservative friends and family who have issues with my work and/or with my partner being a transwoman
. Not that they know that word. And I should be patient because how many people DO? It's not THEIR fault, right?
And with me being in the kind of relationship where I even USE the term "my partner". My girlfriend. My not-a-man not-a-husband not-a-boyfriend.
My mom has been struggling with how to tell HER mom (my grandma) and her born-again-Christian-asshole brother (my uncle) so I haven't even seen my grandma in way over a year.God, it makes me tired even trying to blog about this bullshit.
Now one of my step-brothers, the one I WANT to be in touch with a little, is coming out with his family for a visit next month. My mom visited them in Pennsylvania last year before the election and came back so disturbed by his wacko right-wingerism that she doesn't really even want to see them again (AND didn't even want to get into the basics of telling him anything about my controversial-to-them "lifestyle").
Delia's family in the Midwest still doesn't know about her transition. We had a plan for telling them that we cooked up with her therapist who said that ideally you shouldn't break the news in a letter, but face to face. We tried to get them to come out here last year so Delia would meet them at the airport presenting as a male (a concept that now seems totally ludicrous, uncomfortable and weird to me), she'd sit down with them and tell them all about it, the next day she'd present as a woman, and we'd all go see the therapist so they could learn about transgender. A nice idea, but there's no way to lure them out here when the REST of Delia's family is in the Midwest and her dad can't take time off work; it just makes more sense for us to visit them there.
So Delia's parents offered to buy us tickets to come out for a visit, like, RIGHT NOW. It would work out perfectly for the whole coming-out-face-to-face (except we wouldn't be able to take them to our counselor) BUT Delia already changed her name so in order for them to buy a ticket she could actually get on a plane with, she'd need them to know ahead of time her real femme name (or we'd have to buy the tickets ourselves which we can't afford to do right now). So after some soul-searching and discussion she decided to write a letter which she's still working on.
As the word "transition" implies, it's a process. And part of that process is . . . all of this bullshit of informing, educating, explaining, confronting, and dealing with loved ones and not-so-loved ones.
It made me feel sad when my mom said she doesn't know if she wants to see my brother / can't handle his fucked-up views. And I know it makes HER sad, too, but I feel like it will only be a few hours and it would be wrong to shut him out completely. I wouldn't say this about my other stepbrothers or about my ex-stepdad, but this brother? I would. So I wrote him and his wife an email about "my lifestyle" so they wouldn't be hit with surprises and wouldn't ask about my job in person if they aren't comfortable hearing me talk about what it really is (and told them, in short form, that I make adult websites). And the wheels are turning and they're paying lip service to not judging other people, but copping to being "REALLY conservative". And expressing concern over their seven year old daughter. He doesn't want her to have to "learn too much about life" at this tender age. Like, what aspect of life does he feel he needs to shelter her from or that I'm going to so-inappropriately expose her to?
As usual I can't help comparing my apparently depraved lifestyle with other people in our family and in Delia's family. In both of our families there are those who have HUGE problems with my job, yet think nothing of letting the children be around people in the family who've actually sexually molested other family members. Nobody objects to the lifestyle of the family members who worked for the chemical company that made Napalm and Agent Orange
and other killers and cancer-causers. When I had a husband who worked for Boeing, it never bothered anybody in the slightest (including me) that a family member worked for a company that makes machines of war. Their job is something to be proud of, but MY job is a big, scary, society-eating disease. Excuse me, but as much as you try to fallaciously connect porn depicting consensual sex and non, I DIDN'T DO THIS TO KIDS
. Not even close. My brother doesn't have a problem with his kids being around one of his other brothers who has stolen cars and served in Iraq and laughs with glee at videos of US soldiers beating and kicking the shit out of Iraqis. But oh, GOD!! WHAT will we tell the children about Trixie and her tranny girlfriend or that she has a job making grown-ups feel pleasure?
I know it's hard, but it's not THAT hard. Especially given the truly fucked up things that people are perfectly willing to ignore, live with and even brag about. He's a soldier! He's a chemical engineer! He works for the military industrial complex!!
So easy to boast about. And even those other people who have actually HURT people -- kids -- get the benefit of the doubt: He deserves a second chance.
But how many people boast about "my daughter, the pornographer!"? Actually, my mom does and my dad did. In small amounts, but still. They are extra ballsy and good. And I guess if all these little things are hard, I still have that to be extra specially grateful for and don't know what I'd do without it.
It would be easier in the short run to just say we're going to be busy. Too busy to see my step-brother and his family. Too busy to fly out to the Midwest. Too busy to communicate on any deeper level with old friends than filling out those email quizzes about what our favorite colors and drinks are and coming up with a different reason than the real one for the last thing that made us cry.
I could do that (and have and still will to some extent), but sometimes you have to TRY. Because they're family or because you really need a better reason than fear and exhaustion to sever ties with them. No, you have to try your hardest to be patient with their ignorance and fears and confusion (thankfully people have been patient with MINE). You have an obligation to make yourself fucking vulnerable to being told that what you do -- whether it's selling pictures of your beaver on the internet or it's defying the status quo of letting your genitals define your gender or it's being in a non-straight relationship -- that you're destroying the moral fibre of the country, tearing families apart, degrading humanity, and damaging our sensitive youngsters and oldsters who shouldn't be EXPOSED to our depravity and perversion in their fragile mental and physical states!
You have to be gentle with them while they insult you and beg for your protection. Oh but mom is just too old to understand . . . oh god, I just don't want to upset Grandma
Seriously? These women have televisions and they've all HAD SEX. When I'm in my eighties I hope people don't think I'm too stupid to understand new shit or that I can't handle knowing that some women charge men money to get their dicks hard. I think they can handle it, and if they can't? OH WELL. I wish someone would protect OUR feelings for a change. Like maybe not insulting the girl on the television for having "too masculine of a jaw" right when you're sitting next to my trans girlfriend who might feel self-conscious enough as it is about her OWN masculine jaw. Like maybe not saying that I'm going to warp your seven year old when YOU are the one warping her with your stupid, bigoted views.
I know I'm being a baby to complain about it because so many people have had it so much worse, but I'm *sick* of coming out to people and trying to hold their hands through the process when I just want to scream at them. It feels like such a gigantic waste of time and energy for me, personally, when I don't even LIKE socializing with people. But I know it's not healthy to take the easy way out and be isolated. I know that talking to people makes a difference, not just to us, but in teaching tolerance and understanding on a broader level.
Basically I just feel bogged down. Getting together with family is expensive enough, emotionally & financially, and communicating with old friends that you aren't sure you have anything in common with anymore takes enough of a toll, that having to pay all these extra costs is really draining. It's like walking through a field of land mines every time you connect with someone who doesn't know who you are and what you're doing lately. Are they going to freak out or pat me on the back and laugh? Should I brace myself for them to say something inadvertently hurtful or let myself trust them to be wiser than that?
Once I started writing this blog entry I realized that the most important thing we can do when it comes to friends and family right now is to cultivate our relationships with people who FUCKING GET IT. Our porn friends, our trans friends, our not-so-straight friends. I'm not very socially energetic but there's no way I can cope with some people's bullshit without having the comfort of other people's understanding and similarities. And I can't help sort of resenting the amount of energy I'm putting into the one camp when I could be pouring it into the other. OR WORK.
Jesus, I can't afford this bullshit. Including my own -- all I want to do is sleep and read and eat and listen to music. I feel sort of guilty and wretched and oh-so fucking tired.
Labels: aging, education, emotions, family, fears, friends, my trans partner, rants, sex work, work, worse than porn
Friday, May 29, 2009
A couple of new blog links for you:Cum 2 Oasis Blog
I just added Oasis' blog to my links and wanted to point her out to you. If you're interested in knowing all of the groundbreakers in internet porn -- people who had amateur sex sites before there were role models for such things -- read her blog because Oasis is one of a small handful of them.
She's one of those legendary people in *my* circle of do-it-yourself porn people, and has a hands-on, hardcore approach of swinging, fucking fans, flashing, gang bangs, interracial and party girl antics.
Another new addition to my blogroll:Born Whore
I don't know much about her (yet) except that she's doing sex work in Australia. I was introduced to her recently through tweets linking to this post she made -- It's You I'm Afraid Of
-- that made me cry because so many parts of it rang so true for me, especially since I've been trying for the past few months to reconnect with family and friends and acquaintances from high school and college, some of them cops, many of them religious, loads of them Republicans, and a few others "liberal" (yes, in quotation marks).
"Folks want to be supportive but sometimes they donít get it and thatís OK. I donít expect people to know everythingóIím still learning too! But you should know that when you donít get it, it can really sting or, Iíll be honest, irritate the shit out of me.
So itís you that I sometimes protect myself from. Itís you who I will avoid or go silent with because I just donít want to deal with how disappointed I feel. Itís you that I write for and to. Itís you that I want on my side. You are the ones whoís judgments, stereotypes, awkward silences and ill-informed questions I watch out for. Itís you Iím afraid of."
Labels: emotions, fears, friends, links, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, sex work, webwhore insights
Friday, April 03, 2009
Mud Wrap Bondage
The other day I treated myself to a trip to the spa
as a reward for being 33% of the way to my June 1st weight loss goal. I decided to get a body wrap
for health reasons (it helps you detox) and out of curiosity since I'd never done it.
I knew going into it that I *might* really hate being wrapped up like a mummy and mostly-immobilized for forty minutes, but I also knew I *might* really enjoy it and, at the very least, could endure it without feeling as though I'd been placed in a straitjacket.
By the time my appointment rolled around at 4 pm I'd been soaking, sweating, reading, and steaming at the spa since 10 am (I should've made my body wrap & massage appointment beforehand but was afraid to in case I couldn't figure out how to pay for it or wanted to do something else instead so 4 pm was the earliest they could get me in) and was GIDDY with anticipation.
The girl explained what was in the mud (mugwort, seaweed and a bunch of other stuff I can't recall), instructed me to disrobe and sit on the massage table (on top of a sheet of plastic on top of a metallic emergency blanket on top of MORE blankets) with my back to her. She warned me to expect the mud to be fairly "warm" because it cools off so quickly, then she started slathering hot goop on my shoulders, back, and arms. She had me lie down after that so she could apply it to the rest of my body. Right before she smeared it on my boobs, she prepared me to anticipate the touch in a nursey-kindergarten voice: I'll just apply some to your breasts now . . . (circle, circle)
After she got it all over me except RIGHT between my legs, the soles of my feet and my face, she closed the plastic around me, then the reflective blanket, then the other blankets and towels until I was thoroughly cocooned with only my head sticking out. She asked if I wanted a pillow or for her to bring water or tea when she came back to check on me in ten minutes. Then she turned out the lights (as I requested) and left me alone in the dark, unable to move. AND TRAPPED WITH A TERRIBLE CD OF ROMANTIC/NEW-AGEY GUITAR MUSIC CRAP.
The first ten minutes were pleasant (except for the hideous music). I didn't even attempt to move, afraid I would make myself itchy and be unable to scratch myself. I could see how easily I could become panicked if the slightest carnival-ride twist had been added to it (it WAS April Fool's Day, after all). Like if she'd laughed maniacally before she left and I could hear the door being locked from the outside. Or if weird scrubby things began to descend from the ceiling towards me. Or if the walls just started shrinking inwards. I kept my eyes closed JUST IN CASE so I wouldn't have to see anything like that happening. Or if a man with a bunch of surgical tools were to simply walk in, bend over my face and start whispering at me you can't move you can't move you can't get away from me or my tools!
and just put his hands heavily on my chest.
So yeah . . . this might help explain to you PART of why I'm not interested in being bound. Because it would be way too fucking easy for someone to scare me psycho. I can happily lie motionless for hours, but FORCE me to -- restrict my mobility -- and I might freak the fuck out. Part of me can appreciate the appeal, imagine experimenting with it under very specific conditions, and be tempted by the psychological challenge of it and another part of me just thinks the (psychological) risk is not at all worth the scariness. I feel the same way about LSD. It sounds really interesting but I think I might be a little too vulnerable to bad side effects. The body wrap at the women-only spa is about as far as I can go.
One time I did let someone bind my hands behind my back with his leather belt (a natural outgrowth to him of my spanking and man's-leather-belt fetish, but to me it was just not the direction I was interested in going once I was face down on his bed -- it was crazily exciting, but the fear of having my arms locked behind me that way and of him possibly being able to put his weight on me and smother me was just too fucking freaky for me and I begged for mercy so it didn't last long. I was far more interested in being whipped with the belt (but not to the point of bruising or bleeding), but he wasn't so much into that so that little experiment didn't last very long. I know that some of you are thinking I just didn't do it with the RIGHT person, someone I TRUST. But the point is a) my imagination doesn't trust ANYBODY, and b) testing my boundaries on this is NOT as important to me as preserving them. For a whole lot of reasons. Thinking about it is provocative, but I am (and always have been) more interested in having force applied to me in a psychological way (and even more so applying it to others) in ridiculous role plays. I like being bound by RULES and structure. I like things that happen inside my HEAD way more than things that happen to my body. Or maybe I'm just lazy. I don't know. Woops. Now that I've written this I can recall a few different instances where I've been bound in different ways and liked it. Hmmmm . . . still, not exactly my "thing".
Back to the spa.
The first time the girl came in to check on me she brought me tea with a straw that she lowered to my mouth. I wasn't prepared for it and giggled because THAT is totally hot to me, being treated like an invalid. I wasn't prepared and dribbled tea down the side of my face, then I got her to change the CD to a variety of new agey music I enjoy -- Shamanic Dreams or something like that. She asked if the level of heat was okay (yes - warm and cozy) and again if I wanted a pillow (this time? yes).
When she left I decided to try to sleep since I'd only gotten three hours the night before. And sleep I did, for a few minutes. Let me tell you, it was NOT pleasant waking up mummified, sweating like a pig in a strange dark room with weird pagan drum music going on. I decided not to go to sleep again and couldn't wait for her to come back. When she did I asked for the heat to be turned down. She did, and blotted the sweat from my forehead and cheeks with a cool cloth (yummmmm . . . more pampered-invalid feelings). I wanted to ask her if anybody had ever lost control of their bowels while getting a wrap but decided against it, fearing she'd think I was planning something disgusting. Still, the thought was entertaining. I know SOMEONE, somewhere has done that on accident or on purpose, and I'd really love to hear about it.Note: I'm far more likely to experiment with and enjoy shitting in a warm, plastic-wrapped bed than with being tied up. Just an FYI. I don't PLAN on doing either, but a warm bed of crap seriously sounds more fun to me than letting someone tie me up. Maybe I'm just a loner with a short attention span, though, and wallowing in my own poop is an experience I could live fully in five to ten minutes by myself whereas the whole bondage scene requires time and at least one other person. I guess there are some things I could do to myself, but again, I'm too lazy and disinterested for that. Plus, scat is just a whole lot edgier than bondage and I like the idea of being able to make people think by gleefully confessing I've shat myself for the pure, HAMRLESS fun of it. It's stupid, but poop is so much more taboo (and illegal/obscene) than bondage these days. Again, I HAVE NO PLANS TO DO THAT. I'm just comparing/contrasting. For fun.
Anyway, I survived the last twenty minutes without losing my mind, going back and forth between feeling blissed-out and on-the-verge of screaming, "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" I kept reminding myself of what good "exercise" it was for me and how much healthier I'd be afterwards. I worried that I'd be so sick of lying there that I wouldn't enjoy my massage afterwards (but it actually worked the other way, made the massage seem longer and way better). Basically I endured the procedure a little bit more than I enjoyed it. If I get a body wrap again I will definitely bring my own cd with guided meditations or something so my mind won't wander to torture scenes.
Finally she came in to unwrap me and I went down the hall naked to the shower with the glass-door making my clean-up efforts visible to anyone who walked by. I decided to pee in the shower instead of wasting my massage time putting on a robe and traipsing down to the restroom, but I worried about it, wondering how many other people do/don't pee in the post-wrap shower, worrying that there'd be some way they'd know I did and would talk about that disgusting customer with the long toenails who peed in the shower. Silly fears, but still. I have them. Which goes to show you just how very VERY far away I am from ever pooping in a plastic-wrap cocoon.
After the anxiety of the day BEFORE the spa and the super-extended stay I had there, I was in recovery mode all day yesterday, totally drained and exhausted and verging on a big fat headache. If you've never gotten body work, steamed, soaked, detoxed, etc. then you probably thing I sound like a fucking crybaby asshole, complaining about how TIRED I am after spending a day doing something that sounds like pure luxury to most Americans but that shit is MEDICINE. My throat and eyes burn after all the gunk inside me is dislodged and stirred up and swirled around and sucked out. It feels like preparation to go into hibernation, like the final step in this cleansing/healing process is to go into an induced coma for two days.
The spa experience is totally my cup of tea, though. The front desk lady seemed to think I was crazy for wanting to stay there for more than eight hours, but since I go so rarely it hardly seems excessive. It takes me awhile to really turn my brain off and melt into it, so that cuts down on the time I'm really benefiting from it, but it's exactly my idea of the perfect mini-vacation. Alone, not talking to anybody, with scads of naked ladies walking around, walking from one hot room to another, from one pool to another, being ministered to by talented, paid hands, smelling good things, and trying to become invisible to myself.
Labels: bodily functions, emotions, fears, fetishes, health, luxury, money, nudity, spiritual issues, therapy, TURN ONS, TURN-OFFS
Sunday, March 08, 2009
If my "porn" were standing before the judges on American Idol, Simon would totally call it self-indulgent nonsense. Like shooting almost entirely non-nude sets of pictures with a ren-fairish flavor just because I REALLY LIKE WEARING LONG VELVET DRESSES AND THIS IS MY FAVORITE NECKLACE AND I LIKE PRANCING AROUND IN THE FOREST!! From my latest members-only update:
Most people don't "get" non-nude or softcore porn, and I do think there's a bigger market for straightforward explicit hardcore sex (and I myself prefer to masturbate to fairly explicit, genital-oriented content, though not the generic kind), but make no mistake . . . there's definitely a market for the soft stuff. I'm not sure, but I'm *guessing* that its appeal diminishes the older the model gets, but I could be wrong. I *hope* I'm wrong. Because I will proceed as though I *am* wrong about that. Because I'm totally a self-indulgent softcore kind of lady. Well, not totally
. Which is what makes my site difficult to categorize since I love hardcore stuff, too.
Running a personality site means I'm selling myself -- intimate access to WHO I am -- as much as jack-off material (which is everywhere nowadays for free), but maintaining a balance can be a challenge particularly since the balance other people want to see really varies. There are a lot of people who think the porno stuff is boring and others who think the "self-indulgent" softcore/personally revealing stuff is boring. I don't get that information from my own members (who I guess usually know it's futile/counter-productive to complain about what I do/don't do), but from surfing around and reading the variety of opinions/assumptions on this matter. I gave up on trying to please "everybody" a long time ago, but still feel self-conscious sometimes KNOWING that people will look at some of what I put out there, particularly something they paid for, and will be dissatisfied. Even when you know you can't please everybody, you still feel crappy sometimes that you can't. That you know someone will be distinctly UNhappy because you're older, because you're too nasty, because you're not nasty enough, because you're shaved, because you're hairy, because you're too quiet or not quiet enough. It's a constant challenge to silence that chatter in your head of what other people might be thinking and listen only to what you yourself want and think. But when I do, I hear that I want more cheap, stretchy, crushed-velvet dresses from the thrift store. I want more of the scenery I love that is home to me. I want more cleavage and swooning and vulgar meaty thighs.
I like being suggestive without fully delivering. I wonder how much of that's a (mostly) chick thing -- enjoying having a scene set and characters drawn and then using your own imagination to fill in the blanks to your own liking whereas (most) men want all of the blanks filled in for them in explicit, glossy detail. I have actually been thinking about duplicating and reformatting the way I present some of my softcore picture sets in order to fill in some of those blanks, or ramp up to the nudity in a way that makes it feel more like a money shot once you get to it, but I'm not sure I'll ever have time for that project. I think it would be very effective, though.
Lately I feel a little tempted to stop updating my site as frequently and focus more on marketing Delia's site
. Financially, that would make a lot of sense, but I don't want to do that. The fact that Delia's site significantly outsells mine does free me up to think of her site as the bread and butter that allows me to totally fuck around on mine and do whatever I want without worrying that we'll lose our main source of income when I alienate all of my members. Not that this would happen, but the appeal of Delia's site compared to mine does give me a sense of freedom that it's not all about me. It doesn't all rely upon me. That's a huge relief that allows me to end these annoying trains of insecure thought on a positive note and go back to indulging in my own flights of fancy. In the forest! Twirling around in a long dress! Wearing a gypsy necklace with amethysts! And what more do people want than my boobies, anyway?
Labels: aging, customer relations, fears, gender issues, identity, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, Seattle, things I treasure, TURN ONS, webwhore insights, work
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sex Workers, Rights and the Tanking Economy
Before I post a bunch of frivolous softcore-in-the-Seattle-snow pics today, I want to at least mention that today's an important one: The International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers
When the economy is in the shitter (the direction it's headed right now) people are MORE judgmental and resentful about how much other people are paid and for what kind of work; that's a recipe for even more violence against sex workers. Lots of perpetrators of violence against sex workers explain that their crimes are justified because they shouldn't have to pay for sex -- the woman (or sometimes man) and the work s/he's charging him for are not worthy of payment and/or should be punished for thinking she is. Check out this guy who said a prostitute put her head in his plastic bag by mistake when he wanted his $100 back
. For trying to kill her he'll only get a few months in the slammer.
It's not going too far to say that beating, raping, exploiting, infecting, killing, stealing from sex workers and/or refusing to abide by their boundaries is covertly state-sanctioned -- the government says sex workers don't have the right to charge money for their services in most places. Not only do they not have the right to charge money, they are CRIMINALS if they do so. In some places in the United States you can be arrested simply for carrying too many condoms -- it's intent to sell access to your body (which you have no right to do, and if you intend to flout the law in this way you deserve to expose yourself to disease and pregnancy)! You can be charged with a crime in many places just for advising other sex workers ABOUT sex work. The government might not have a bounty on sex workers and we all might SAY that killing them is going too far, but it's a pretty fucking mixed message.
While most of my own work as a webwhore is legal (I say "most" because some of it could easily fall under the nebulous definition of "obscenity" - that and a couple of other things I can think of could land me in prison if the Department of Justice or other unsavory elements chose to target me) and I feel fairly safe doing this work (not just safe for a whore, but even safer relative to women with straight jobs), there are still more than enough people who resent me and women like me for making our livings this way. People who spew hatred and threaten violence that all falls under the category of, "BITCH! YOU DO NOT DESERVE MONEY FOR WHAT YOU DO & YOU DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED FOR EVEN SUGGESTING ANYONE PAY YOU FOR THIS!! I will *take* by force what you deny me for free." I'm willing to bet these messages will only increase and intensify in the months and years to come as people get poorer, hungrier, and angrier.
There's a march in DC going on right now. FurryGirl
is there and taking pictures like this one:
The demand on the banner to "STOP SHAMING US TO DEATH" is powerful, especially in conjunction with the message that "ONLY RIGHTS CAN STOP THE WRONGS". Violence against sex workers is made too easy because of wrongheaded laws that make some people's versions of "immorality" criminal. It's broader than the moral or religious issues, though: it's about class and gender -- specifically denying women (1) ownership of their bodies and (2) the right to charge people to access it (3) within boundaries each woman defines for herself.
Connect the dots in the bigger picture to shaky/compromised abortion rights, our continued unwillingness to recognize parenthood as real work worthy of payment, and our refusal to protect natural resources like WATER (where ownership by one entity should be really fucking hard to claim) from unsustainable corporate exploitation compared to our insistence upon denying individual women opportunities to profit from their own individual bodies (where self-ownership should be pretty fucking OBVIOUS/undeniable, especially when you consider how much money male pro-athletes make abusing their bodies for our entertainment and no laws deny them the RIGHT to exploit their bodies in those damaging ways***) -- it seems pretty obvious that denying rights to sex workers is part of a bigger agenda to deny women opportunities to profit from work that is mostly performed by women because we are at a natural biological ADVANTAGE to perform it. Basically? It's about making sure women are only punished for their gender rather than economically rewarded for it.
It will be a cold day in hell when someone goes violently vigilante on the asses of Wall Street executives and all the corporate fat cats and bankers getting bailed out for fucking us over financially; there are always loopholes to guarantee their "right" to be multi-fucking millionaires at our expense
, but there are sure to be plenty of whores killed by men who get the message loud and clear from our government(s) (and all of us who tell them we LIKE our laws just like this) that there IS no loophole for a woman who thinks she's entitled to earning a few bucks for a blowjob. God forbid we put a cap on the exorbitant amount of ill-gotten money men "make"; instead let's keep making sure the whores don't get out of pocket thinking their dirty pussies are worth a thin fucking dime.
Discriminatory laws against sex work and women's work in general don't just encourage and facilitate physical violence, some people would say those laws and their applications are themselves acts of violence -- when you make it next-to-impossible for someone to work, when you take away her income, when you stigmatize someone by slapping a criminal record or a special stripper/whore license on her that will limit her job opportunities in the future, when you eat up her time in court and behind bars, when you make her pay fines, when you make her vulnerable to blackmail by thieves and rapists both in and out of uniform, that can at LEAST be called a hostile and dangerous violence-breeding atmosphere. Whether or not you believe Deborah Jeane Palfrey's death was a suicide
, you have to recognize that she (and possibly other women connected to her case) would not be dead now if women had the right to do sex work. Who needs the Green River Killer to cleanse the country of garbage as long as we have the government to ruin and destroy the lives of sex workers? And when I say "government", I don't mean that the rest of us have clean hands. Voters are the ones who had an opportunity in San Francisco last month to decriminalize prostitution and guess what? THEY DIDN'T. We're not talking about old laws no one enforces anymore, we're talking about active BULLSHIT that just keeps on trucking.
Yes, it's impossible for me to calmly deliver a moderate, easy-to-understand argument about sex worker rights and reducing violence perpetrated against sex workers. I'm sorry for that. I feel guilty for not doing more for sex workers as a group -- for not being more of an activist, for not staying better informed, for not being a more coherent educator. As with any minority suffering discrimination and persecution, it's a challenge to have time to earn a living in that discriminatory atmosphere AND be an agent of change. That's why discrimination and marginalization WORK SO WELL; when people are underprivileged and denied rights granted to others, they 1) lack the resources to effectively fight for change, and 2) can't be completely honest or open about their own stories without fear of reprisals and punishment.
It's true that I feel relatively safe as a webwhore, but I said RELATIVELY safe, not just-plain-SAFE. I realize I am VERY lucky, but still vulnerable.
I hate that my blog entries on this subject wind up preaching to the choir and are probably ignored or misunderstood by everyone else, but seriously -- this whore needs to spend the rest of the day trying to make money rather than blowing off steam just to hear her head rattle. With the poor economy and my own situation of having gone deeply into credit card debt to finance our business, I do have a heightened awareness of how my own safety and standing in society is threatened even more by the fact that I'm a sex worker and therefore considered disposable and fair game for scapegoating, at the very least. I know from my OWN feelings of jealousy towards people who are economically privileged and resentment towards those protected enough by their gender and class to get away with huge scams that are considered legit ways to fuck people for money that we all can become very, ummmm, mean-spirited when the chips are down.
I wish I could wrap this up with a big Christmas bow that would change the world for sex workers or at least make people WANT to see that happen, but I'm at a loss for how to do that so I will simply say THANK YOU to the people who are out their lobbying for change on behalf of me and other sex workers today.***there are definitely class (and race) issues at work that allow mostly poor men of color to beat each other senseless in boxing rings and suffer tons of injuries in other pro sports with regulations that do very little to protect them; by bringing this up I'm not saying boxing or other sports should be illegal or even necessarily more heavily regulated -- I only mention it as an interesting comparison to sex work. It illustrates the irrationally contradictory double standards when it comes to women's bodies versus men's bodies and what kind of work they can put them to for how much money.
Labels: class, fears, gender issues, money, politics, race, rants, sex work, true crime
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
You don't need me to tell you that times are financially tough right now for a lot of people. You might be curious, though, whether or not recessions and looming depressions have an effect on our porn site sales. The answer? Yes, sales have been a little harder for us to make but overall I feel much more secure than I would in almost any other industry. The main sign we've seen that people's wallets are thin is that we get more denied credit cards.
My main financial concerns right now are not about falling sales, they're just about having finally reached our limit, unfortunately right at the time when banks and everyone else have reached theirs. I try not to feel a sense of shame or failure about my debt load regardless of how our country tells us that we little people are to blame for overextending ourselves or for being given loans and lines of credit we somehow didn't deserve. Our only mistake was being born poor while extremely unscrupulous banking bigwigs are bailed out for fucking people anally with insanely high interest rates. Example: it cracks me up that Citibank not only gets away with raising my interest rate and leveling late charges against me for sending a payment in on time that I accidentally wrote for fifty-seven cents less than the minimum payment that month (YES I have written them letters to no avail), but taxpayers get to foot the bill to save their fucking asses.
I'm getting off track.
Point is, after filing our taxes in October (yes, totally late) and maxing ourselves out like crazy we simply need to make more sales. Really, there is no excuse for us not to be making much more money at this point except that we tend to focus more on keeping our members happy than on actually, you know, FINDING MORE MEMBERS. It would be nice if we could do it all, but at this point we need to cut back on some things and rearrange others, at least until we meet some financial goals. So here are a couple of changes we/I are making:*REALISTIC NUMBER OF WEBCAM SHOWS EVERY OTHER WEEK.
Delia and I have been doing an insane number of shows for too many years: around twenty a month between the two of us. Most girls or couples with sites like ours who actually do live webcam shows do one or two a week, so maybe three to eight shows a month. Frankly it was sucking way too much sexual energy out of our relationship, leaving us very little free time to be spontaneous or go on shooting sprees or, you know, take a day or two off here and there.
We're now scheduling a couple days of webcam shows a couple times a month/every other week. It still averages out to at least two shows a week this way, but that's still less than what we have been doing and will give us more breathing room in-between to shoot videos and have recreational sex with each other.
Doing fewer camshows will also open up time to promote our sites in other ways; the truth is that the cam networks stopped being good places to get new members a long time ago. Even the girls who put on great shows and bend over backwards to be great orgasmic little entertainers do not make great sales because of those webcam shows. I will save explaining why for a different blog entry, but suffice to say right now there are more efficient ways of bringing in new sales; at a time like now we simply need to be more efficient.*FEWER HOURS IN CHAT
I really really love getting to know our members and think an active chatroom with a readily-available hostess is a really awesome feature to have on a porn/spycam site. I've had many awesome conversations in chat and gotten to know people I consider friends. Unfortunately, I probably spent way too much time in spycam chat over the years when I should have been focusing more on marketing my site. Now it's at the point where I really don't have a choice and need to spend those hours promoting our sites (especially Delia's because it outsells mine three to one).
I hate to say it, but I just don't have enough members to justify scheduling so many hours in chat. I've tried to find ways to make it work, and I feel like the same small handful of people are coming in just so I don't feel bad sitting in there alone. Combined with being burned out from all the camshows and being under pressure in other ways, I'm also just not as energetic an entertainer as I once was, anyway, so it's probably not a very enticing feature anymore. I am, however, continuing to pay for our members-only chatroom (the plugin is only $12.50 a month, but still) and am popping in there every so often and scheduling chats here and there. I've also added a separate twitter feed on the spycam, chat and shows pages to notify people of upcoming chats and shows and spycam stuff.
I've made a goal for myself that once Delia has 750 members and I have 500 members, I will add 15+ hours of chat per month
back into the schedule as long as we can maintain those numbers and people seem to enjoy the chats. I know that 1250 members sounds like a lot, but in the grand scheme of things it's inexcusable that we don't have that many and more members right now. When I see the way other porn sites have tons of members and offer so much less than we do, it really makes me mad at myself because there's no reason we cannot be comfortable, debt-free and have the resources we need to make our sites better.
I just can't justify doing as much as we've been doing and staying so deeply in debt. I'm getting too old for it and it's taking too much of a toll on me. I need to buckle down and sell the fuck out of our sites, especially Delia's because she has much less competition.*LOOSEY-GOOSEY UPDATES
For about five years I was very rigid about my update schedule for members, posting something new every week, and for many years on the exact same DAY each week. I still feel like that's the ideal way to do things (scheduled updates one or more times a week, depending on whether or not the site has anything else going for it).
Once we made our sites all-access (join one you get them all) I tried to relax a little on that and am finally feeling less anal about it. Now I am focused on our network of sites added ten or more new things each month, which isn't two hard considering that we have DeliaCD
(which is paralyzed right now, but I digress). Still, I have been asking too much of myself and not really giving myself the opportunities to excel at what I do best and WANT to do most at any given time. When I see other sites that I think are great (and so do their members) and they don't get all crazy freaking out on themselves for not updating like clockwork, I have to think I'm just sabotaging myself with self-criticism and essentially also disrespecting the work my colleagues do; if it's good enough for them, why isn't it good enough for me?
This was especially apparent to me when AmberLily joined our network; it was a sudden thing, so we didn't plan on it by having a bunch of our own content queued up ready to go while we did the things we needed to do to help get her site up on our server and attached to us. It wasn't that anything I did was particularly HARD, but it did take a lot of hours making phone calls, designing a tour, negotiating stuff, etc. Lots of little things that made me happy to do, but meant I didn't have time to do other things. I *should* have said, "hey members! This month I won't be posting new updates but AmberLily's joining us and you will have her entire site to explore to make up for it!" But I didn't do that.
From now on, I NEED to do that; realize I can't do it all, and be proud of what I *do* do, and satisfied that it is enough instead of thinking all will be lost unless I run myself into the ground. The opposite is proving to be true (duh): all will be lost if I continue to run myself ragged. I'm totally out of gas, which is sad especially when there are a number of women who would like to join our network of sites and I simply don't have time and energy to invest in working with them right now.
There are tons of things I've neglected to do that I need to get taken care of, like redesigning the free areas and blogs for pretty much all of our paysites. How many years have I had the same confusing design on this blog and my site that is now totally outdated with pages of broken things, old pictures, etc.? It's just unacceptable. And no, I am not listening to anybody who gives me shit about all my other little "projects" and how if I didn't waste time with them I could finish all these neglected necessaries. Bullshit. If I didn't allow myself to go off on tangents, then half of the reward of working for myself would be totally fucking DELETED. Whatever makes me want to do those things is the same thing that makes me good at the things people PAY for.
Oh, and speaking of what people pay for, I still really miss doing phone sex, private shows and the potential to do other one-on-one stuff; another set of things I'd like to mix back into my life soon or when we meet some of those money goals.
Basically I am *considering* posting fewer updates to the TastyTrixie members area for a few months or until I feel/look healthier. Lately I've been doubling up on them/posting "late", mostly because I haven't been happy with a lot of my content and sit on updates until I have something "better" to go with them. In fact, that's what I've been doing with a set of pictures that I edited this week and really kind of hate.
Mostly I guess I need to stop making promises and just focus on making content. And even more than that, SALES. Note: it's not that our content isn't good enough to make sales or that we don't have enough of it or that our members-only areas are lacking; that isn't the problem at all. It's simply that the webmasters promoting most porn sites don't know how to promote us, or have never heard of us because we have no advertising budget, or it's just not worth it to them to promote us because we can't pay them as much as these big sites do (yet another subject for another blog entry) or we don't give them enough free content in the format they like with a lot of bells and whistles and things to make it super-easy (I totally understand why this puts us at a disadvantage).
I know this is a really long post and maybe a total bore to most people, but I feel like I needed to communicate this stuff in writing and by posting it, make a commitment to it myself. Long story short, we need to focus on meeting some attainable, yet very immediately necessary sales goals. I have to close two of my credit card accounts before they raise the interest rates to some even-more god-awful amount; this shit is getting down to the wire and we simply have to stop living on the edge.
One of my favorite books about "unschooling" tells readers that when you allow a young person to escape the lock-step of traditional schools, the person usually needs three months or more to get it out of their system and have their natural curiosity well up enough to be motivated to take advantage of other learning opportunities. Note: there are many things I love about traditional schools AND alternative approaches to education; I'm not knocking schools, just using this as an example.
As I've alluded to in recent posts
, making great life-changing decisions doesn't always yield immediate relief and results and instant accomplishments; I've been pretty exhausted and overwhelmed on a bunch of different levels so I really don't expect everything to magically be PERFECT and I hope my members are patient and understand that too, though I totally understand if people feel like canceling
and perhaps coming back later when I have more to offer.
I'm really looking forward to getting back to making our spycams more entertaining, focusing on Delia's and my relationship to each other, and feeling better about my body. Today's the seventh day in a row I've exercised and I know by the time the new year rolls around I'm going to feel a million percent better (if the holidays don't kill me ;).
Labels: announcements, body image, boundaries, chat, fears, goals, health, money, PORNOGRAPHY, priorities, spycams, webcam shows, webwhore insights, work
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Self-Soothing with Webmastering
After having family stay with us for a few days, I usually feel like I need a day off to myself to recover from the energy kicked up from so many people around me. During this visit, however, I kept retreating to WebWhore Headquarters (that's what I call my home office) for a couple hours here and there, allowing myself to WORK to relax.
Instead of picking work that I really *need* to do that's high priority for making money, I allowed myself to work on low-priority stuff that's fun and not complex or stressful (except for feeling guilty for not doing more important things) and requires no interaction with other people. Stuff that's compact, like blogging and posting one-pagers on domains I've had for a long time that have been sitting, completely BLANK. My thought is that anything I accomplish is a bonus since I should be taking time off from work while family is here for our late-Thanksgiving so I should do something totally relaxing instead of tangling with bigger projects.
Here are some of the one-pagers I've made over the past week or two:Worse Than PornTrixieDollBorg PornDeliaTSGive Me Sugar
It's soothing to play with fonts and colors and inspiring to remind myself of concepts and ideas that interest me. Only a couple of those were frivolous, actually, with no immediate application, but I still feel conflicted all the time and defensive about the choices I make with my time. Like if I enjoy it and other people might not understand where it fits in the puzzle, then I should feel badly about it. There are a lot of things I'm choosing to NOT do, and I constantly imagine a crowd of people criticizing my choices, saying "what, she's not doing X so she can do Y and Z?? THAT is stupid! She hasn't earned the right to waste time doing that -- I want X! I want X! Y and Z are useless! She would be so much better off doing X; a bigger commitment to doing X would solve all of her problems, can't she see that?"
One of my goals is to stop worrying so much
about the critics, both external critics and my own internal asshole voices who can ALWAYS find some way to make me feel like I'm not doing good enough. I need to focus on what I'm doing right (and right NOW), not what I'm doing wrong (or not doing at the moment). Unfortunately I'm often painfully aware that every choice I make to do one thing means not doing ten billion others. It's depressing and I have to knock that shit off. Being on Ritalin does help a lot because I can sit down and focus on something without intrusive thoughts and ideas continually popping into my head of all the other things I can/should be doing which then make me totally anxious, overwhelmed, afraid to proceed with the task at hand, and hopeless because of my limitations and lack of giant progress.
I know a lot of people struggle with similar feelings, so I share this for a couple reasons: because I know other people can relate and it always feels good to know you're not the only one with these kinds of challenges, and because it helps ME to type out my fears and remind myself I don't want to carry them around. I want to be happy with what I *can* do and what I *want* to do right now at this moment. I want to look at what I've done and feel a sense of accomplishment and pride, not guilt and maudlin hyper-criticism.
Anyway, the family is gone now, our spycams are back up, and Delia's warming up some of her delicious turkey & stuffing leftovers. Life is good.
Labels: accomplishments, anxiety, attention deficit disorder, escapism, family, fears, food, goals, inspiration, links, mundane, thanksgiving, therapy, webwhore insights, work
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
We're celebrating Thanksgiving late today; my sister, nephew and brother-in-law drove to our house last night and Delia
's cooking the turkey right now. The same turkey that's been in our freezer for more than a year since we had to cancel dinner last year after my mom broke her wrist and had to get surgery mere days before the feast.
As a teenager I really resented seeing the women stuck in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. It seemed completely unfair to me, the way they slaved away while the men sat on their asses thinking up ways to make the day unpleasant and contentious. It's kind of funny(?) that now I make basically no effort to help Delia prepare meals. And this is actually the SECOND turkey she's cooked and stuffed in the past month since she made one for a big potluck a few weeks ago. Maybe as a kid I thought I was feeling sorry for the women in my family when really I was just feeling sorry for myself because I had no desire to grow up and be stuck in that role, stuck in the kitchen. At the time it didn't occur to me to visualize what I WANTED, which was to grow up and have some OTHER woman (or some man) stuck in MY kitchen, cooking her little ass off while I come in just to rub my hands greedily and condescendingly tell her how GOOD it smells, and when will it be ready, honey?
My mom isn't coming to today's gathering, either, which is a good thing; I have an insanely bad case of PMS and our whole family gets exhausted when all of us are together. Someday I hope we'll all live closer together so it's not such a long-lasting, closely-packed, unable-to-escape-each-other ordeal but right now? That's how it winds up and it's too much of an energy-sucking drag for all of us to really be considered a celebration. The competition for control and attention between four strong personalities (mine, my mom's, my sister's and her two year old son's) is too constant. I've been encouraged to be more realistic in my expectations for family time, and in taking that advice I don't feel disappointed today that we're not all together at once; instead, I'm relieved.
Since our nephew is here a lot of our cams are down or cloaked so that he can run around freely. Also, one of the camsites where we broadcast has been down since yesterday; it's frustrating, but I'm trying not to worry about it today since there's nothing I can do about it and it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway with little Mr. Squishypants in the house.
I, my sister, and Delia stayed up way too late talking so I'm feeling really sleep-deprived right now and am going to try to get in a nap. I have a sick amount of anxiety when my nephew is here, worrying about all the ways he can get hurt, feeling like I need to watch everything he does in our child-unsafe house and around our dog. Even with all that watching, he's gotten hurt and while it is a consolation knowing none of those times have come even close to killing him -- kids HAVE to fall down, split their lips, bash their heads against sharp corners, etc. -- I still have a hard time letting go and it's much worse if I haven't gotten enough sleep.
Labels: anxiety, emotions, family, fears, hormones, mundane, my trans partner, nature, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, spycams, thanksgiving
Friday, November 28, 2008
Far from the Trampling Crowd
While other women are out shopping for bargains today, we're staying home to masturbate on cam. Yes, I planned it that way deliberately to target the men in the states who stay home jacking off to internet porn while the wimmin-folk are out in the malls blowing money.
I'm sure many of those women would call me evil, exploiting the Thanksgiving holiday for profit by appealing to people's "base" instincts. Leading their men-folk astray and causing them to cyber-cheat while their loving wives are out dutifully blowing wads of dough.
Can you tell I think that's all a crock of shit? The way the chaste and moral crowd points their fingers at whores like me while they're out TRAMPLING PEOPLE TO DEATH
for Black Friday bargains?
A worker died after being trampled and a woman miscarried when hundreds of shoppers smashed through the doors of a Long Island Wal-Mart Friday morning, witnesses said.
The unidentified worker, employed as an overnight stock clerk, tried to hold back the unruly crowds just after the Valley Stream store opened at 5 a.m.
Witnesses said the surging throngs of shoppers knocked the man down. He fell and was stepped on. As he gasped for air, shoppers ran over and around him.
As far as I know, no one has ever had a miscarriage watching porn, so take THAT family values!
I break out into a cold sweat whenever I hear about and imagine crowds-gone-wild; all of those sports arena horror stories and such make me crap my pants; I am deathly afraid of the mob, of our basest, wild-eyed instincts stomping the fuck out of each other. Of having the breath crushed out of me.
We were watching one of those MOST SHOCKING CRAZY-ASS THINGS CAUGHT ON VIDEO shows the other night showing a riot in Vancouver after a hockey game; people running amok, setting shit on fire, overturning cop cars, smashing into storefronts, etc. It's just bizarre to me that people are so scared by PORN and do so much to try to censor it out of existence, but no one ever says we should stop allowing mass-attendance at sporting events, or we should ban sports all together. It's a stupid proposal, I guess, but one that makes WAY MORE SENSE than getting rid of porn or continuing all the lame-ass crackdowns on sex work in general.
People are fucking insane, especially when they're in large groups where they feel no personal responsibility for the damage that can be done by the mad power of the unstoppable horde.
On that note, I must now prepare myself for the unruly, anonymous crowds that might attend my webcam show in a couple of hours. But no matter how badly they behave, it couldn't possibly be as unpleasant as SHOPPING today.Thanks to Delia for the heads up on today's trampling death.
Labels: fears, gender issues, money, porn consumers, rants, shopping, sociopolitical commentary, sports, true crime, values, violence, webcam shows, worse than porn
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
What's up, Doc?
I'm betting people are curious how my psychiatrist appointment went, so here's a post that's JUST about that:
It was a relief to see him; I was amazed how much he remembered after more than five years, and that was without even having the benefit of reviewing my old records since he moves them from his office to his garage if inactive and older than five years.Hmmm . . . now that I'm trying to write this I'm not sure how much of it I feel like sharing, not because any of it was bad or even that personal, it's just the kind of thing that requires a lot of context and background information to be accurate and I know people have a tendency to be judgmental about prescription drugs, people who are diagnosed with new labels, etc. On the other hand, I know that for every person who reads this stuff and thinks, "what a crock of shit/loony bird/lazy, oversensitive drug-seeker" there's another person who can relate.
Long story short, I'm really glad I went. It's always so cool to have positive, meaningful experiences with health care professionals where you are helped in a way that also makes you feel respected, empowered and cared for by people who are extremely knowledgeable and gifted. I wish everybody could afford to get the care they need from people who deliver it at such a high and loving level.
Aside from the intangible benefits of going, I came away with my generic 10 mg Ritalin
prescription and an assortment of other samples and scripts to try since I live too far away to come often (four hour round trip), my insurance isn't paying for it so it's too expensive for me to come often, and I said I can't afford to try anything new after my bad experiences with Adderall
(it made me feel really depressed and hopeless) I'm reluctant to stray from what I know works for me.
I've only filled the prescription for the Ritalin, but also have Focalin
, Concerta and Vyvanse
sample scripts. For a couple of weeks I'm just going to enjoy my old standby, though. I took some last night before I went to sleep (yes, I know that's contraindicated but it often *helps* me get more relaxed, satisfying sleep) and it was just a huge fucking relief.
Another big relief is that he gave me a sample kit for Lamictal
(a mood stabilizer). I don't feel like getting into a discussion at the moment about whether or not I'm bipolar, but either way it sounds like a safe drug (even if you're trying to get pregnant or are pregnant) that's worth trying. I'm not sure whether or not I *will* try it, but I can't describe what a huge relief it is to have it here and to know that if things get any worse I have something that will probably make it better. I'm going to wait and see if I continue to have dramatically fucked-up mood swings (example: getting one of my "brilliant ideas" and getting so worked-up/hyper-enthusiastic/crazily-driven that I'm pacing uncontrollably for a few hours then plummet into a state of horrifying self-loathing and hopeless depression lasting twice as long as the crazy-high; apparently "they" are expanding how they diagnose bipolar disorder so it's not just limited to people who cycle slowly from one extreme to the other). I'm still going to see an endocrinologist to find out if there's a hormonal problem fucking with my head, and I know lack of exercise and stress are other big factors that can make people crazy but sometimes meds can work miracles, even if you just try them to learn how it feels to be different or are reminded that things can be better.
I just have to say HUGE RELIEF again. That's what it is. To know you have options and boosts. To know that if things get worse there is help to be had (and that things don't HAVE to get worse before you seek it out).
Labels: depression, drugs, fears, health, ritalin, therapy
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Company Coming Over
Just a quick post to say that we have family visiting today and tomorrow so some of our cams and audio will be down. It's been too long since we've seen our nephew and we haven't even given my sister her present for her birthday which was a month ago. It's a hot pair of peeptoe sandals so in the back of my mind I'm hoping I can get a set of foot-focused pics out of her while she's wearing them, too. Is that so wrong? PROBABLY!
Some snaps of me from the last time we had company over:
My psychiatrist's office finally called back so I made an appointment to get back on Ritalin. I got a huge headache yesterday because I've been trying to use caffeine instead of prescription stimulants and caffeine? It's pure fucking evil. I don't have to consume much over the course of three or four days to suffer nasty consequences.
Even though I was almost totally out of commission yesterday with the headache, I did manage to write and post for members a sicko masturbation fantasy
I had. I'm not sure if other people will jack off to it, but it's an interesting peek into the mind of a woman and how the threat of violence from men is a constantly disturbing companion that can't be safely separated from sex in our subconscious minds. Our brains are diseased with scary men.
Labels: attention deficit disorder, family, fantasies, fears, friends, gender issues, health, human nature, masturbation, mundane, PHOTOS, sexuality
Friday, August 15, 2008
I just added a new gallery for members with pictures of me naked in a fog. Here are a couple of samples:Member Galleries: 1024 or 1600 pixels | Non-Members: JOIN HERE for access.
I think I'm on electronic overload since we got home. There's a certain feeling I get in my head, throat and upper chest when I've been talking on a cell phone, listening to an ipod, sitting too close to a webcam, or just having too much computer time; it's like metal and static inside me, almost like the taste of static if static had a flavor (and if I had taste buds all throughout my upper body). I don't think I've ever gotten it from cameras, but other things -- yes. Maybe I have it right now because of the new laptop. Maybe it's emitting some weird . . . something. Probably it's the noise and the frequency of the noises, but it feels more like it's the heated metals and plastics and ozone scents (which I like at first, but then feel like they're seeping into me).
Or maybe I'm just crazy.
Labels: attention deficit disorder, boobs, fears, nudity, Pacific Northwest, PHOTOS, technophobia
Thursday, July 03, 2008
"Born" on the 4th of July
We'd *planned* to take a real day off tomorrow, the 4th of July, but instead of that we have to take a buttcrack of dawn trip to Seattle to try to inseminate me
. I hate to be an asshole, but I feel like crying because the LAST FUCKING THING I WANT TO DO on the Fourth of July is be on the road. IN THE MORNING. The tension I feel now seems really counterproductive to trying to conceive so I guess I need to try to do some deep breathing or something. I would feel better if I could take a run right now and blow off some steam, but I hurt my foot the other day walking in heels outside for a shoot. Well, actually I was just trying on outfits for a shoot and had to run outside to see what our dog was hell bent on wolfing down: a grenade sized piece of dehydrated poop or something, and my ankles buckled three times in the grass as I ran in my mules to discover that. Since then it's hurt to put weight on my left foot.
This is NOT the blog entry I would like to post for you, it's just what it is. If I do not get pregnant this time, somebody just take me out and shoot me.
Are you going to tell me to go read _The Secret_ now? ;)
Anyway, I had to cancel my shows on Saturday the 5th because we *might* wind up stuck in Seattle and I can't put on a good show anyway after this procedure. So maybe we'll make Saturday our day off. Sort of like normal people have weekends and holidays, only ours will be just one day. Of course, normal people don't get to schedule massages on the fly the way I did today just after lunchtime, so it's not like I'm saying I want to be normal or anything. Just bitching, that's all.
Labels: announcements, anxiety, depression, dog, emotions, fears, trying to conceive
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Here's one of my favorite pictures that we shot over the past two days:
We rented a room in town for a couple of nights to shoot in, but wound up coming home to sleep both nights. We like being in our own bed at home with our dog, plus we are addicted to stupid shows like American Idol and America's Next Top Model. I feel a little anxious about getting rooms in town for shoots because people are naturally curious why we would get a room when we LIVE here. It makes me even more nervous when we aren't actually there all night; I'm afraid we'll arouse suspicion and wind up on some kind of small-town blacklist. Not that we're doing anything BAD by hauling lights into their rooms and taking nudey pics of each other, but you never know what people will think (they *have* to wonder why we have so many giant pieces of luggage; it probably looks like we're going to cut up a body or something).
This morning we actually had to set the alarm in order to wake up early enough to have sex, since I may have ovulated last night and we still had to go pick up our luggage from the hotel this morning and take the dog to the vet. I actually got to stay in bed and stew in the sex juice while Delia
took care of all of that. Now? I'm editing a gallery of pictures (represented by the above picture) for members and listening to PJ Harvey.
Labels: dog, fears, photography, PHOTOS, PORNOGRAPHY, SEX, television, webwhore insights
Sunday, March 02, 2008
When I woke up in the middle of the night to pee, I looked for our dog, Nico, before I stepped out of bed; she likes to sleep sprawled out RIGHT NEXT TO ME on the floor so between her and my nightstand, I have to perform circus tricks to get out of bed without stepping on her.
All that was on the floor in Nico's usual spot was a pillow and a blanket that had fallen off me. Then, because I'm a dipshit, I felt I needed to go looking for her in her dog bed; she wasn't there either. I found her at the foot of the bed, lying very still (the way most living creatures do in the middle of the night).
I don't know when it started, but I've developed an irrational need to make sure people and dogs are still breathing in the middle of the night. I think I started doing it when Delia was still drinking and then it got worse when my nephew was born. Or maybe it was all those years of my dad being sick and watching him die; seeing how easy it could be to just stop breathing without anyone noticing. Also, Nico is getting old; I think she's fourteen now. Anyway, I feel compelled to pop out my earplugs and hover to see if the object of my concern is still breathing, getting close to look for a rising and falling chest or the soft sound of exhalations. My loved ones are apt to wake up to my face in theirs, inquiring once I've woken them up, "are you alive?" Duh. Are you crazy?
It was hard to see last night, so I put my hand on Nico's chest. She didn't flinch or move even a tiny bit. Her thick fur felt cool under my hand. I couldn't feel ANY movement and feared she wasn't breathing so I rubbed her a little. NO RESPONSE. It was like she'd been dead for an hour or two! Then her hind legs relaxed a little bit, but I thought it was just because she wasn't stiff yet and I'd moved her.
I woke Delia up by shrieking, "honey I think Nico's dead!"
Delia woke up and crawled to the end of the bed as I told her I couldn't feel her breathing and she wasn't moving. She gently put her hand on Nico's chest and belly, too and couldn't feel anything so she sharply said, "NICO!" and snapped her fingers.
Nico came back to life, then. It was like magic. She lifted her head and shifted her body to a "should I get up now?" position. Delia flopped back to sleep, I went pee, and when I got back from the bathroom I still couldn't believe Nico hadn't been dead. I felt like she came back to life just because we love her. She was standing at the foot of the bed looking at me; instead of going back to sleep right away, I held out my hand to her so she would come to me and I stayed awake petting her until she settled down to sleep by me. Her body is so little under all of that fur.
You would think I could stop myself from doing these breath-tests by reminding myself I'm being crazy. No one is going to just die in their sleep, at least not anyone who was perfectly healthy the night before. But I don't really believe that so the only way I can stop myself is to tell myself if they're dead, what can you do about it? Just go to sleep and take care of it in the morning.
I'm not kidding. That's the only line of reasoning that sometimes works on my three am head. But mostly I figure there's no harm in checking so I do. But there IS harm, when I imagine someone's dead even when they're alive and make my heart start pounding and wake up other people to verify. It's embarrassing and weird.
I cannot sleep in the same room as our nephew anymore because I just stay awake listening to him breathing. If I manage to fall asleep, I still keep waking up with compulsions to listen and check. He's not a tiny baby anymore so the crib death thing isn't really an issue, I'm just painfully aware of his mortality. His and mine and everyone's, I guess.
Labels: anxiety, death, dog, family, fears, mortality, pets, relationships
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Two Things You Didn't Know About Trixie
TWO THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT TRIXIE
A couple of things you might not know about me:
1. I don't like those blue m&m's. I liked the old seventies colors. Red looked so pretty with the two colors of brown. Blue is ALL WRONG.
2. I believe that space colonization will save humankind -- that ONLY space colonization CAN save us. It's not something I think about often so it's not like I'm revealing some bizarre secret of mine. Or wait, maybe I am. This is something I've believed for a long time, maybe because the space station was such a big deal when I was a kid. Still, it wasn't something I had any detailed exposure to -- it just slid into my belief system.
Why does this nugget of belief appeal to me? I don't know -- probably because science barely-fiction captured my imagination somehow from an early age. I'm not very literate in the sci-fi genre in general, but my dad bought enough graphic sci-fi stuff (a huge Buck Rogers collection in giant-book form which I never read, but leafed through every so often, a couple of captivating books with spaceship blueprints, and a subscription to Omni) that it wiggled into my consciousness as something real. Star Wars was the first movie I remember seeing, and that in a drive-in theater with my dad after a fight with my mom so it made a big impression on me. I didn't study or immerse myself in science, science fiction, or technology but I saw and read enough that was so beautiful, believable, provocative and richly detailed that it planted seeds in my brain.
Maybe that's why I didn't like Star Trek: not very beautiful, believable, or richly detailed. My first exposure to Star Trek was the original series during reruns and I was too little to understand its provocative content, only to recognize its visual inferiority to Star Wars and the other pictures I saw. The only thing I liked about the original series were the short dresses on the hot chicks. Of course, in the past couple of years I've become a Next Gen fan but it didn't contribute to the formation of my belief system, only reinforced it.
I think space colonization is part of my faith; I have faith that a few smart, persistent, creative people will save us and we will endure thanks to scientists and technology. When I say "we" I don't mean "I" since I believe this will happen after I'm dead and gone, but not by much. The idea of space colonization comforts me even though it's completely irrelevant to my life and even though it will be fraught with tragedies and scary things.
I suppose I like knowing that the struggle will go on and that there are new frontiers to explore. Or maybe it comforts me to imagine that people in general won't become too much more advanced than I had a chance to be any time soon. I can't believe Firefly
only lasted one motherfucking season because that show perfectly captured what I think a lot of us imagine as the not-so-distant future of humankind.
Honestly, I don't spend a lot of time specifically thinking about space colonization as a cornerstone of my belief system. I have, however, spent quite a bit of time over the past few years reflecting on science fiction in general as the best contemporary vehicle for exploring spiritual, moral, and ethical issues. Science fiction is one of the most authentic ways I feel like I can "get religion". It's not fixed or as dogmatic as science itself so there is still room for faith (and when I say "faith" I mean faith in something -- ANYTHING -- wiggly and uncertain, not faith in any of the gods of religions we're so familiar with today), and it's not completely insane or irrational (again, like so many of the religions we're familiar with today). There's room for soaring idealism in science fiction, and for bitter cynical social commentary. I love it.
Anyway, even though I don't give daily deep thought to space colonization, I guess I do feel pretty anxious about this planet and sad about what we're doing to it. The amount of destruction I've seen in my short life, and the carelessness people have towards the "environment" leads me to believe (another part of my faith) that we aren't going to be able to live here naturally much longer without lots of artificial intervention. Much of what is most beautiful will be utterly fucking destroyed -- any of it that's saved will be via small-scale Jurassic Park type measures.
I didn't grow up in a city. Many days I actually got to wade in creeks, see big trees, smell clean air, enjoy darkness at night, have complete privacy/solitude . . . things like that. I've spent all of my thirty three years loving ferns and moss and the smell of rotting wood.
I didn't grow up in a city, but I grew up close enough to the city of Seattle to see major MAJOR changes in western Washington every single year for the past thirty-three. It's nothing against cities, because I love those too, but we are mowing good things down and paving over it so fast and furiously and on such grand scale that you have to have your head stuffed straight up your cornucopian ass to not recognize that we're shitting all over the planet; it cannot sustain these levels of "growth" and resource-rape. I wasn't raised to be an "environmentalist"; my grandpa was a logger and most people I knew were pretty conservative and hostile towards "tree-huggers". Really, my sentiments are fueled only by the gift of sight -- you have to be fucking blind to not see the destruction and life out of balance.
So. I guess I comfort myself with the fact that science will create new wonders, preserve and transplant some old ones, and life will go on. It really breaks my heart, though, imagining the world introduced to my nephew (or my own children if I ever have any) and trying to show them as many things as possible before they're bulldozed down. If my own lifetime has been marred by observable decimation of natural resources and beauty I can only imagine how depressingly ugly and destructive the world will become over the next three generations. And hey, it's not all about "nature" -- privacy and solitude are becoming relics of the past (or at least luxuries only the very richest of the rich can afford). If I ever have grandchildren I'm pretty certain their notion of these concepts (privacy and solitude) will be reduced to tiny fragments of what they should be.
It makes me fucking shudder, but I thank my lucky fucking stars to be alive in this time and place rather than somewhere else, or sometime long ago, or sometime in the near future. That brings me back to faith; who or what should I "thank"? Science fiction hasn't answered that question for me yet so sometimes I fall back on the old-fashioned stuff because really, I do need to give thanks even if it's primitive, superstitious and nonsensical.
Labels: fears, food, memories, nature, Pacific Northwest, privacy, religion, spiritual issues, Star Trek, television, things I treasure
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Sex Offender Notification
I am looking at a community notification flier. With a picture of a guy with scary unrepentant predatory straight-staring eyes and a really freaky closely-shaved haircut. I have another picture of him . . . and me standing next to him ten years earlier. Innocently average and handsome for a homecoming dance. Wow. The same guy. It's the same guy. The same guy I determined to have pop my cherry when I was 18 years old. My dad always told me I had a taste for shit.
I know it probably sounds bizarre but . . . I don't regret losing my virginity to him. Even though he tried to tell me afterwards that my mom paid him to have sex with me (which I almost believed even though I knew if my mom would have paid someone to sexually initiate me it wouldn't have been *him* -- she tried to talk me into losing it to someone more "experienced" but I insisted that he was the fellow virgin with whom I intended to share this rite of passage). Even though it's nothing to brag about and the thought of having intimate memories revolving around this disturbing person should make me shudder and wish to forget . . . I don't wish I never knew him or did it with him. I can't explain it. My mom thinks I have a potentially dangerous fascination with people who are bizarre and live on the fringes bordering normalcy. I guess she's right.
I just want to try to understand. The dangerous part is that inside me there's an unshakable belief (delusion?) that we are all the same. It's an ideal I cling to for the sheer horror and soaring hope that it gives me. Or maybe that's the justification I use to pursue my macabre fascination and unusually high comfort level with freaky people.
This sounds off the subject, but I am feeling the need to read more Carson McCullers. I love her and her characters so much. Reflections in a Golden Eye is what I need to read right now.
I remember catching him in the alley when I was 16. And knowing but not really caring that he wasn't just walking to a friend's the way he said. Knowing there was a different reason for him being in the dark alley where the inside of my sister's and my bedroom was visible through the wooden blinds.
I remember being 18 and finally having an unspoken fantasy come true. He knocked on our bedroom window. And I came out and we fucked standing on the cinder-block steps outside our back door while my mom slept inside and my sister wound up waking up and asking what was going on.
I remember being 19 (after he and I stopped talking and no longer fucked) and sleeping by myself in the detached garage we had converted into a bedroom. I remember all of the times I'd lie in the dark there listening to what I *knew* were human noises right outside my door. Whoever it was would get in there stealthily enough to not set off the motion detector. I wonder how many times I took a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night and might have sleepily walked right past what must have been him. I remember I lay there alone once in the middle of the night, disconnected from the house and my mom and my sister. And this time he tried to open my door. It was locked. He knocked. He tried repeatedly to turn the doorknob. He wouldn't answer me when I asked who was there. He didn't say anything. I didn't know who it was. I always wondered if it was him but never thought it was. It didn't line up right. I never thought he would be that weird with me. So silent and anonymous with me who was not a stranger. The rest of that night I laid there in bed scared to death and having to piss like a racehorse until the sun came up.
But today looking at this flier I realize it must have been him. It must have been him. Two years before he was convicted for sneaking into people's houses and touching girls he didn't know in their sleep. Criminal Trespass. Sexually Motivated Felony. Did he grab something to steal on the way in?? Or while he was running out??
I probably would have opened the door in the middle of that night if I'd have known it was him. If he would have said something. But I don't think that's the way it was supposed to work. I wonder if I knew him before he knew what he wanted. I wonder if he got caught and convicted before he knew what he really was going to do. Or if that was all there was to it for him. Supposedly that's pretty unlikely statistically speaking. People like this (like what?) usually mature as criminal freaks, with their crimes escalating in severity and violence and seriousness and perversion as time goes on.
What would have happened if my door had been unlocked? What would have happened if I would have opened it? There is such a range of possibilities. Sad. Scary. Or fumbling to retain normalcy.
Oh well. Who cares?? I'm going to Memphis.
But first I'm going to drive to the end of the road. In the twilight. And drive slowly looking in windows lit from the inside. Knowing that he's probably in one of them. A beastly self-centered miserable mystery.
And later tonight I will drive home to my safe city so I don't have to sleep here less than a mile away from where he probably is. So I don't have to lie here and remember what it was like to imagine that someone was outside watching me. To imagine someone was close to my door. To tell myself I had an overactive imagination but then wind up experiencing the bizarre intersection of reality and paranoid suspicion.
Labels: fears, memories, SEX, true crime