End of the year

So there are only a handful of hours remaining in 2013 where I am located. And the end of this year could not come fast enough. Some things have been great, but some things have been so awful I just want to run away from them as fast as possible.

Good things:

8 tattoos that I absolutely love.
My weight loss and improved health and fitness.
My Angel suspension in July. (Even if some friends think that's completely fucked up.)
New friendships, and deeper connections with older friends.
Learning how to make snicker doodles.
The Doctor Who 50th anniversary special(s).
My community service was in a Franciscan monastery.

Shit things:

My brother getting arrested after threatening to kill my mother and her dog and a whole bunch of other offenses.
Losing so much time due to headaches and illness even as I get healthier over all.
My husband getting arrested after swearing to me he'd been sober for over a year.
My child deciding green food is poison.
Multiple stray cats being hit by cars on the road in front of our house.
Not getting the promotion I've worked so hard for over the last several months, even though I clearly deserved it.
Being removed from the lives of some people I cared deeply for, because the feeling was not reciprocated.

I'm sure I could add much more to both lists, but that's pretty much where I'm at right now. My plan is to start 2014 with a walk-in tattoo by the artist who did the roses on my chest oh so many years ago. She's doing snowflake and mandala pieces tomorrow and I intend to be there at least an hour early to make sure I get in and can pick something wonderful. Maybe honey bee related. Or with lots of circles to reference my hooping.

And I'm probably going to cut down one or both of my polypro hoops because I just feel like 40" is too big anymore.

Might do a 30 day "on body only" hooping challenge to work on posture, balance and core strength.

I will continue to do planks as I think of them.

I will continue to be a good friend and family member.

I will continue to love my daughter with abandonment.

I will try to make more art.

I will try to help my community more.

I will NOT make any resolutions.

I will be kinder to myself.

Happy New Year.


Happy holidays.

Now go away.

The holidays, starting around the time people are reserving their big fat growth hormone supplemented dead birds for Thanksgiving and running right through the New Year, is a time of major conflict for me. Has been since I was 11-years-old on winter break and threatened my stepfather that if he ever went after my mother or siblings again I would kill him, so he better kill me first of he wasn't going to stop.

He told me to calm down.

He kept beating my mother and molesting me and abusing my siblings for the next four years. My brother is spending his 28th birthday in jail as a long result of his father's abuse.

I wish that 27 years later my stomach didn't tie itself in knots when I hear Christmas music, or that my head didn't pound to the beat of flickering lights, but that's what happens.

But I want to be happy and warm and giving. I want the Wildflower Child to have wonderful holidays of good cheer and lovely memories. And more often then not I end up sobbing in a corner terrified that everything is terrible and ruined and I'm a horrible person.

My husband must have his own issues because every year it is like he has no idea that this is what I go through. Maybe he thinks I should be all better and over it. Heaven knows most of the time I think I am, but there is so much fucking pressure during the holidays that I feel like my skin will crack and I'll explode.

Tonight there were combs missing from the bathroom that I needed to comb Wildflower Child's hair. She says she used them to "brush Daddy's daddy's hair" and that she gave him one of the combs to take home. I became very angry. Which is stupid, they are fucking plastic combs. But since the husband didn't know any of this, it means he let her be with his father alone, even though I had expressly said not to do that as they were getting together while I was at work. I don't trust his father and based on what I've experienced and what Hubby has told me, I have no reason to, but he left them alone. My heart rate still hasn't slowed down to normal.

I have to get up in less than five hours to drive him to work and take her to my parents'.

Happy holidays.

Stress, Vanity and Self-Doubt

I've been writing blog posts in my head for a while now, but none have actually made it to the computer, which really doesn't help anyone does it?

As you know from my last link, I'm trying to become a Gnar Hoops sponsored hooper. I know I'm very early in my hoop journey, but truly feel like with the help of a dedicated and fantastic company behind me, I can really increases my skill and influence in my own little corner of the world.

I am also applying for a promotion at my "day job" of telemarketer. And I'm being interviewed at 9pm tonight for said job.

I'm ridiculously nervous about this. Like can't sleep, can't think, totally want this position, nervous. I feel like I might be passed over purely because there have been whispers of my manager showing me favoritism. Which is total bullshit. I have to make the same goals, work the same hours and use the same guidelines as everyone else. He respects me. Because I respect him, and the job and the company. I am grateful for my stupid job as a telemarketer because I have a job! In the mean time I've also picked up four extra hours a week doing said job.

And while all that is going on, I'm having to drive my husband to and from work while his license is suspended for the previous DUI arrest this summer. So I'm getting up at 5am every morning, piling all three of us (Wildflower Child can't stay home alone) into the car and driving him to work, then taking her and I to my parents' house because it is closer than coming home, spending the day there and then coming back through to pick him up and come home and then go to my job.

Needless to say, I'm tired.

I would LOVE to be on cam these nights. This is a great time to be modeling. I just don't have the time or the energy! And the Husband keeps staying up late so I can't even get ready and go online for an hour or two because he's awake and out of respect I don't do that until after he's asleep. Which is really frustrating. Because if he would be more supportive, he might get more action. Consider a positive experience cam modeling with the promise of a nice check as a great way to "prime the pump" in the sexy times department.

This pump be dry.

Also I have a cold.

I am the biggest wuss in the world with a cold. I hate them. With a fiery passion born of the depths of hell.

Kill me.

There is too much on my plate.

I need a vacation.

And I'm completely convinced I'm not going to get either the promotion or the sponsorship so I'm trying to not be too excited about either.

And then I get ready for work and think, "wow I have an involved 'beauty regimin." I don't think I'm all that attractive, but damn don't I fight hard to make the best of what I do have.

I'm a complete makeup addict. But since I try to only buy cruelty free products, and I'm cheap, most of my cosmetics are things I can get at Target. Like elf and Physicians Formula brands. I used to layer on tons of makeup in college and try for that "completely totally flawless mask" look, but that's beyond me now. For a while I was getting away with coconut oil as moisturizer, some foundation powder, and my eyes done however I wanted them. I rarely wear lipstick (most specifically lip stains). But since I've been so tired and dehydrated and now viral...I'm going all out. I'm talking concealer, BB cream, powder, eye highlighter, shadow, liner, mascara, blush, powder.

What the fuck?

And at night I "wash" it all off with more coconut oil and hot water. And then treat blemishes with tea tree oil and moisturize for the night with grapeseed oil.

And for the first three minutes after washing my face, I look better than I did all day. That's so fucking frustrating.

So anyway, here's to being interviewed when I'm exhausted and full of snot. Trying to make the best of a crumbling facade. And not nearly enough sleep.

Kill me.

Fuck you voices in my head

I get wrapped up in my head sometimes. So wrapped up the rest of the world drops away and becomes hazy and unreal. I replay conversations, script new ones that will never happen, turn memories over and over like worry stones.

Tonight was one of those in my head nights. Started on the drive to work, navigating through the dark to my florescent lit cubicle for a few hours of unreal reality. Lost in the last year, trying to sing along with the radio to ground myself. Lost. Lonely. Aching.

I wonder if the people who populate my mind talk to me in the dark.

Am I just a shadow?

An Open Letter to Francis Ford Coppola

Dear Francis Ford Coppola, 

You Sir, owe me an apology for the hour and 20 some minutes of my life I will never get back after watching "Twixt" during a fit of insomnia. 

I naively believed that with the combination of your historically significant cinematic achievements, the occasionally fantastic performances of Val Kilmer, and the always charming Ben Chaplin, I would be in for a late night treat. I was even eager to see what the young and talented Elle Fanning had to offer. 

The answer? Not much.

Except for a brief few moments during which Kilmer as "Hal Baltimore" (dear God was there an "Alex Delaware" novel next to your writing desk at some point?) riffs opening lines at his computer screen in a refreshingly funny and relaxed manner reminiscent of "Real Genius" and "Willow," the movie was confused, poorly acted, visually ridiculous and overloaded with attempts at symbolism, religious fanaticism, and maybe time travel, but that last part might be a reach because honestly, I don't have the foggiest idea (see what I did there? Referencing "fog?" No fog on the lake!) how the mass murder and the kids living across the lake (are they really vampires? Really?) could be in the same place and time based on the newspaper clippings. Just because the clothing and motorcycle would not be historically accurate.

And trying to turn "V" into "Vickie" AND Poe's late wife/cousin all at the same time? No. Just, no.

Since I cannot reclaim the lost time spent waiting for some glimmer of greatness in this piece of digital wreckage, all I can ask is whether or not there is a specific combination of pharmaceuticals or a cocktail of some nature that would make this film make sense.

Ben Chaplin should play Edgar Allan Poe again, in a better film. He was great. The bright orange lantern in every scene was distracting and unnecessary.

Val Kilmer tried. At least I know he's still alive.

And Elle Fanning has many years to grow her craft beyond this. So she'll be fine.

I'm waiting for that apology.

Should I try to fuck James Deen?

So I read Jezebel and found out that James Deen has an open casting call for amateur partners with whom to film porn scenes. It clearly says he'll do all types.

I'm so tempted to apply.

Of course my husband would not approve.

But I keep thinking about it. Things like "if I lose another ten pounds or another inch on my waist, I'll apply." Or, "it might restart my libido after the whole mono fiasco."

Then I wounder about birth control, because I'm not on any. And that would suck, being the old lady that got knocked up by James Deen.

And then I masturbate to James Deen porn and the though cycle starts all over.

The article in Jezebel had pictures of him cuddling kitties. This didn't help my obsession.

November, damn, the year is almost over

We made it through Halloween this year without a natural disaster, so that should count for something. But I still woke up this morning with my heart in my throat trying to figure out how we are going to pay electric, car insurance, and my husband's DUI fees. Not to mention buy food. At least it is warm enough so that there is no need to start the pellet stove. And I'm trying to be very conservative with oil because I have no idea how we are going to afford that this winter.


So in the spirit of November and challenges and Thanksgiving... I'm doing my hardest to remain positive.

This  morning I started a 30 day plank challenge. I will get this body in great shape somehow.

I printed out a 14 months check-off calendar to keep track of my hoop practice.

I got a long wonderful cuddle session with the Wildflower Child before starting our day. And she ate the oatmeal I made for breakfast.

These are good things.

Last night I actually dressed up for Halloween for my office costume contest. Came in second. Lost the $20 gift card by one vote.

Every year I think I'll try participating in NaNoWriMo, and then I get overwhelmed and don't even try. So this year I'm saying that the plank challenge is enough. Fuck, just getting to the end of the year with a husband still in the ARD program and a roof over my head will be enough.

I'm really dreading the holidays.


Today is our crystal anniversary (or watches if you are using the "modern" list). That's fifteen years if you aren't in the "marketing shit no one needs to people who like to be stuck up about it" market.

Fifteen years we've been married. Last year I remember asking my boss if I could use a 15 minute pass to go home early I was so excited to spend just a little bit more time with him event though things had been rough, we were doing okay.

This year, I keep crying. And not happy tears.

I feel starved for romance, intimacy, honesty, a gentle touch with no ulterior motive, a selfless act, trust.

I feel bitter and hard and mean because I can't tell if he is telling me the truth and I doubt everything. I am terrified all the time that the world will come crashing down around my ears and there is nothing I will be able to do to stop it.

I want to be able to model good relationships for my daughter, and I am miserable and tired and angry.

I want to not be a provoker (as Al-Anon describes it), but I don't know how to talk to him about his issues without sounding like a nagging bitch.

He tells me multiple times a day that he loves me. But it sounds so empty.

He says he's "trying so hard!" to make things work and our lives better, but doesn't actually make any moves to take care of very important issues until I am crazy with worry and stress. And then does the minimum to shut me up and puts it on the back burner again until I boil over with rage in the future.

This is not a good relationship.

I want it to be.

I don't hate him.

He's a good father. He loves our daughter, and our cats, and says he loves me. But I don't make any impression on him to change, or at least change enough to allay my fears.

Recently he was acting erratically and had been sleeping most of the afternoon. When I came into the living room with my snack to watch TV he almost exploded in rage claiming I was looking at him like I was furious. Laying there on the daybed stretched out and snapping at me for looking at him wrong.

I had glanced at him as I made my way to the chair to see if he was awake and I might have been frowning because I was stressed and concerned and didn't know if he was sober or not.

He has admitted to me in the last few months that he has been abusive. Not physically. He doesn't hit me. But since that admission he has done nothing to get the help he needs to be a complete and healthy person.

Oh he went to the doctor, and eventually got the blood work that was ordered, but he won't do counseling or AA. And I'm about 90% sure he's still smoking since he didn't finish his Chantix prescription and the car smelled like smoke yesterday. But he lies so easily.

I want to be happy for my 15th wedding anniversary. To feel loved and safe and like this is an accomplishment of which I can be proud. I want to be part of an equal and loving partnership that can survive the slings and arrows of the days.

I just keep working on myself and trying to be a good mother. Leading by example I guess. I truly don't know what else to do.

House to myself

So why wouldn't I be spending my "free time" boiling sex toys?

Everything needs a good deep cleaning sometimes.

My life is so freaking glamorous.

Finding my Flow

Hooping has obviously become and incredibly important and sustaining part of my life, but it isn't always easy. Especially when I'm sick or worn down (as I have been for the last several months) it is a struggle to find the energy to make the effort to hoop. And when I'm psychologically not doing great, I see the videos of performers like Tiana Zoumer, Gail O'Brien, and Deanne Love and think, "I will never be able to do that."

Part of my problem, when I can really sit back and think about what is holding me back, is shame and discomfort with my body.

Now that may seem like a ridiculous statement coming from someone who has spent a significant amount of time getting naked for other people (not just cam modeling, but I have also been an artists' model over the years and even posed for my own art teacher in college). But I am and have always been uncomfortable with my body.

I took some video of myself hooping last week and noticed that I have trouble picking my feet up and really dancing with the hoop, and I slouch even in the hoop. As though I don't want to take up too much space, when really, hoop dancing requires one to find your own space and own it. Hooping has changed my body significantly, but I need to love my body to find my flow and truly dance with the hoop.

Today I plan on making yet another new hoop (I have a ton of hoops) and trying out some moves I've been watching and just crank some music and play and see if I can stand a little straighter and release myself from the ground and just, flow.

In the mean time, here is some love and inspiration from Tiana Zoumer in celebration of World Hoop Day which was 10/5/13.

The danger of oversharing

In case you haven't noticed from previous posts, or this is your first time reading me, I'm a chronic overshare-er. Like, I'll meet you, and immediately share my deepest darkest, not-so secrets. So when I got to work last night and my manager came over and asked how I was doing, I replied chipperly "I've had mono!" And the branch manager overheard from his office.

I tried to explain that they don't know when I got it, that I'm not contagious, that I could let them listen to the nurse's voicemail on my phone, but it was over. I got sent home with orders to get a note from my doctor's office that would allow me to come back to the office.

I should say that the reason behind my blurting this out was basically my deep relief that I don't have Lupus or Lyme disease or adrenal disfunction, because those were all things for which I was tested. I've been getting more and more exhausted for months and it was getting fucking scary! So honestly, mono is like the best option. Also, I'm on the road to (a long) recovery. So that's Happy Happy Joy Joy news!

Anyway, I called my clinic before I even left the parking lot last night, left a message.

Called again when I dragged my pathetic butt out of bed at 10:30am, left another message.

By 1:00pm I was thinking "huh, guess I get another night 'off.'" and was thinking about what to cook for dinner. (Curried ginger carrot soup or lentil soup? Both are rather quick and easy and have healing ingredients, but the wildflower child didn't like how "spicy" the ginger in the carrot soup is so told me to make lentil.) Just as I started to relax into the idea that I wouldn't have to rush, my phone rang and it was the clinic telling me I can get my letter. CRAP! I had to run and get us both dressed-ish, drive over the to the clinic, get home, quick chop a fuck-ton of veggies and put the soup on, get my shower, get dressed, finish the soup, eat some soup, and go to work.

This was not relaxing. This is very hard in my current condition. This essentially sucked on a cosmic level. But I made it. I even got into work on time (for me, which is 15 minutes early) with my letter in hand. Where I received some advice from my manager to not discuss health issues in public, and if I feel like shit to lie and smile.

So here's to smiling through the pain and lying through my teeth, and hopefully, feeling more like myself very soon.

New Name, New Address, New Focus

I realized that one of the reasons I've been having trouble writing lately is that the blog title and focus just didn't fit my life anymore. I'm barely cam modeling (although I do hope to get back at it soon) and I don't like defining myself by my part-time job. I'm trying to get rid of the parts of my life I don't like, and build on the ones I do. So that's the new theme of this blog and the story behind the new name.

In the mean time, I've been profiled on the SuperHooper blog about how hooping has significantly improved some of my chronic health concerns. And yes, my real name is in that article. I was just diagnosed with low Vitamin D levels and mono. Yup. Mono. Which explains my chronic fatigue and will take a while to recover. Now hopefully increasing the Vitamin D will help my hair grow back, but who knows.

In the mean time, trying out this new title and address and I hope it helps me stay more focused and up to date.

A lot on my mind

I know I haven't posted in a while, I've been dealing with chronic exhaustion, personal stress, relationship stress, painting a little bit, trying some hoop flow choreographies, applying for a slightly elevated postion at work, you know, life...

But something has been bothering me so much the last several days, I just have to write it out.

I'm following a lot of "Mommy" pages on Facebook. A lot. Mostly related to breastfeeding, gentle parenting and humor. I just joined a new page about breastfeeding and mama talk, and one of the first posts I see is about piercing baby's ears.

If you've ever seen me, I'm obviously pierced. Also tattooed (11) and branded (yes, branded) and have had big huge hooks put through my skin from which I hung for hours. I'm a personal fan of modification. 

I am completely and totally against modifying infants. All of it. I'm an intactivist and would not have circumcised a son had I had one. I will not pierce my daughter's ears until she is old enough to ask for it and understand what it means. Hell, I don't even cut her hair and make sure she's happy with it long. If she wants it cut off, I'll do that for her. IT IS HER BODY! I have no right to change it. 

Parents say things like, "get it done early when they don't remember the pain." This is in relationship to both the relatively "mild" modification of piercing ears and the horrible dismemberment of circumcision. It isn't that they don't experience the pain, but they don't understand what it is, can't express their pain and fear and confusion and never talk about it later. That doesn't mean they don't internalize that at some point in their early, new, fresh, life, their own parents actually caused them pain. For the parents' own comfort or aesthetic. 

And this brings me to the thought that has been banging around in my head for days. Why is it that parents can do things to children, and not only get away with it, but be completely supported by medical staff or family or society, but if they did them to another adult they would be condemned, vilified, persecuted and probably imprisoned? 

Think about it. 

It is completely legal, and often "encouraged" to circumcise infant males. Over a hundred baby boys die every year (in the U.S. alone) from complications as a result of this "routine" (and completely unnecessary) procedure. 

If you were to tie down an adult intact male and forcefully remove his foreskin without anesthetic or post procedure pain medications, and most importantly, without his informed consent, you would be guilty of assault, sexual abuse, torture, and who knows what else. 

But it is completely acceptable to do this to your son. 

If you were to take your adult girlfriend to a Piercing Pagoda and force her to sit still while an untrained clerk shoves blunt "piercing studs" through her ears with an unsterilized piercing gun even though she never asked for her ears pierced, you would be arrested in the parking lot. 

But go ahead and do that to your daughter. Better yet, get your pediatrician, who has absolutely no experience with body piercing, to do it as part of a "routine infant check-up."

I really hope you got the sarcasm in my remarks. 

And on that note...

No, that's called "child abuse" and no one, NO ONE, has any right to lay a hand on my child, nor should any child be subjected to the confusion, agony, and psychological damage that spanking causes. 

Which means you are afraid of a world run by adults who were raised to know their feelings, learned respect by being modeled respect, and learned the value of being part of something without having to crush those around them to find worth? How sad. Move aside and let progress happen.

Because this is how you treat another human being and expect to be respected and loved? 

Trash like the above shows up on my Facebook feed daily. And people "LOL" and "AMEN!" and "if I ever said 'boo' to my parents they would whoop my ass!" And then wonder why the world is so mean, so cruel. Why there are so many children "going wrong." 

Trust me, they aren't going wrong by lack of spanking, by lack of "being told what to do" by lack of "parenting." 

In fact, spanking is more and more being proven dangerous, damaging and ineffectual as a parenting "tool" in recognized and respected research. And around the world 30 countries have banned physical punishment of children everywhere, even at home. 

Why is it, that the tenants of attachment or instinctual parenting are so reviled by this society that anything that doesn't condone violence against or control of or subjugation of our children is considered laughable, naive and ridiculous? 

When my daughter throws a temper tantrum, I hug her gently and soothe her, ask her what she is feeling, if she has the words, try to bring her back to Earth and give her the tools to understand I'm here, I love her, it is okay if she is angry and frustrated and tired and just cranky, I'll still love her. Always.

When other people want to touch her or demand kisses or hugs, I let her say "no." She shouldn't be forced to touch or be touched by anyone ever.

Today I introduced her to the lemon thyme we brought inside. Showed her how to rub the leaves and smell the lemony freshness. Told her that when she feels frustrated or angry, she can go to that corner and rub the leaves and calm down. And she glowed. And ran to get her favorite stuffed animal and show her the lemon thyme. 

A friend shared this poem and I try to live this way. Scoff if you must, but my daughter knows I love her. And her love heals the old wounds of my life. And that's what parenting is really about. 

Let me sit with my baby 
And play for a while, 
And forget all
my unfinished work
with a smile,
For every tomorrow 
holds work to be done, 
But lullaby moments 
and peek-a-boo fun
Are life's tender treasures
meant just for today,
For babies grow up. . . 
and the years
slip away. 

So tired!

I have been really remiss at getting any writing done lately. Lots going on in my head, nothing going down on paper or on the screen in pixels.

I did complete one painting and start another over the weekend, and I have two new poly pro hoops that I'm having a lot of fun playing with, but my lethargy is almost paralyzing.

If you are a member then you know I haven't been modeling at all recently. It has simply been too hard to get motivated to do it. I am very much hoping that I will get some medical answers for why I'm so tired (yes I know I'm up super late writing this post, but still!), and work on some stress relieving methods to help my entire life go better.

In the mean time I took a trip down nostalgia lane today and scoured the internet looking for references to a traveling Shakespeare company that came to my college while I was there. I cannot express with words how much I loved this group. Apparently I loved it so much I was quoted in my school paper about my love for it. I even found a terribly scanned and grainy picture of the actor I kissed in front of a room full of students during a work shop which launched my acting and theater major. As well as pictures of a few of the actors I dated while they were visiting.

Hey, I like talent, and Shakespeare, what do you want from me?

I've also been binge watching Doctor Who on Netflix in preparation for the 50th anniversary this winter. I don't care that Peter Capaldi isn't young and sexy (okay he isn't young), I think he's going to be awesome as the twelfth Doctor!

I've even cooked twice in the last few days. Pumpkin pancakes on Monday and Vegan Lentil Soup today. I consider both major "Mama Wins" because the wildflower child actually ate what I cooked!

And there are four Eastern Black Swallowtail caterpillars feasting on fennel on my back deck that just make my heart sing. So they are getting a lot of play on my Instagram.

Other than all that, I have to get some more tests done to see why I'm so tired, want to learn some new tricks with hooping and hope to not sleep through the weekends. Hopefully I can achieve those goals.


Lazy or Disinterested or Just Exhausted

I've been really tired and somewhat depressed for a while, and now I have a really bad cold. But I'm still around. Just haven't really felt like writing or doing much of anything.

So I'm snuggling with a cat and not caring that I look like hell.

Hooping, Weight Loss, Patience and Kindness

I know I really haven't been posting much recently. I've been busy, but mostly I haven't posted because I didn't know what to say. Life keeps going in cycles. Sometimes it is good and I am doing great, and sometimes it sucks and everything crashes down. But I'm really working on making sure the down times aren't overwhelming.

One of the main things that has helped me is hooping.  Yes, hula hooping, for grown-ups. Hoop dancing is another name for it.

No I'm no expert, but I'm learning, and enjoying myself while I do. I'm getting better balance, my hand strength is improving and I've lost a ton of weight. And as soon as I get some money together, I'm buying this.

I'm perfectly willing to pay for it with donations if you are feeling generous, I have PayPal. ;-) Kidding. Sort of. I really need money.

I got braided hair extensions in my mohawk for kicks. Brown matched to my own colour, and purple, because, purple. I wear my septum ring a lot more often now. And I'm getting a new tattoo this coming Saturday, another butterfly. I haven't had one since June 15th.

Cam modeling has picked up. I've added sph (small penis humiliation) to my repertoire. I came to the realization that if this is what someone really needs to get off, what was I accomplishing by denying him? But I still won't allow anyone to try to humiliate me.

I'm trying to be gentler to my husband. It isn't always easy, but I'm doing my best to avoid being "the Provoker" in the relationship because I know that can only come out badly. He can't be the partner I want him to be if I make him miserable.

My life is still full of uncertainty. I always want to believe that what I am told is truth, even when historically that is not true. My daughter is a delight, even when she pees on the floor. My garden is a tangled mess of colour and life and praying mantids. My health is improving.

Now if I could just make more money...


If you have been reading my blog for a while, it must be abundantly clear that my mental status varies wildly. Hell, just look at the titles of my posts and they run the range from laughing hysterically to almost suicidal depression. And the content only backs up those first impressions.

Yes, I have issues.

Currently I'm on an upswing. I've really thrown myself into hoop dance. I've gotten a very wild new hairstyle. I'm caming regularly again and actually enjoying it. I've reclaimed my virtual space and am doing what I want with people who seem to share my tastes and are willing to pay me for it.

My charity group is doing great and I'm on the Board of Directors now.

My wildflower child just turned 4-years-old and I'm in better shape now then I was before I had her.

I'm getting the nerve up to contact a hoop making company for advice on what to purchase when I get the money, so I have fully custom made hoops by professionals instead of only my own handmade and not exactly right hoops.

Interestingly, as I'm feeling better, I came across this article, "Psychology's answer to trolling and online abuse" today.

Luckily I've yet to experience sustained consistant online abuse. But the short bursts of it I have gotten in cam rooms has been enough to know that people are mean when they are anonymous.

But right now, today, I'm good. I'm covered in bruises from drilling shoulder reversals (almost have them) and wish I could lose another five pounds. But I'm good.

I might steal the Nightmare Moon mini figure I got for my daughter for her birthday though. Because it is hella cool. It is super fucking awesome actually.


Something I didn't think about when I started telemarketing over two years ago...

When I call a home and ask for a male name and a woman has answered, a fair amount of the time she sounds suspicious, like I'm cheating with her husband.

I have wondered on more than one occasion if men I speak with on the phone have come to my site, but I never expected jealous defensiveness to be an issue.

People are strange.

Also, seriously, if someone calls your house and it is a bad number, it is an honest mistake, not some personal attack directed at YOU. So don't get all twisted up about it. Just hang up and go about your day. Get over it.


Here I am, in the bathroom before going into the office at work. No makeup. The sunglasses I have to wear when I'm driving during daylight, and often keep on inside if I have a headache. Hair is a mess. Hell I'm not even wearing a bra.

But I'm here.

I am still going. Not thriving. Not happy. But here.

I haven't been on cam since last week. I think I'll go back to my old site tonight if I feel up to it. I've been so damn tired and sad. I wanted to get to bed at a reasonable time last night and still didn't get to bed until about 3am, when my daughter fell out of bed as I walked into her room to check on her. That was exciting.

I don't know what to do or believe anymore. But I just keep going.

Maybe if I go on tonight it will be the start of something better than I've had lately. Perhaps.

Giving up

Yes I'm depressed. I think honestly I have every right to be. And I know I'm more than likely Bi-Polar type II and I'm very far down in the low swing of that. To be fair, situational stimuli isn't exactly helping matters. Knowing that however, I've come to the conclusion that if I am to continue to exist and more specifically continue to try and make money on cam and support my husband and my family and keep trying to do whatever it is I do, I need to stop caring about my own feelings. Because ultimately, they don't matter at all.

I was so naive to think that people I meet on cam, baring the rare exception, actually meant anything nice they have ever said to me. I'm really just the fallback model. I've been told over and over that I'm the nicest model on Streamate. You know why? Because I don't kick out people who can't, or won't, pay me. I keep talking and flirting and trying to make them feel special. Because maybe, just maybe, they'll like me enough to take me private or exclusive and help me pay my bills. And maybe, just maybe, they won't call me a fat whore or dirty slut and I might be able to pretend for a few minutes that I'm appreciated.

Truth is, it is bullshit.

The beautiful models know that they will always get more customers, so they can kick out whoever they want. The young ones don't necessarily have outrageous mortgages or multi-thousand dollar debts looming on the horizon.

The cam factory models don't care because they can always go to another site and there's always another girl to take their place.

I don't honestly know why I ever thought I was worthy of being cared for. I am a deeply damaged person with mental illness and a history that would make most people sick. My husband has been lying to me for years, about everything. He can't help it. I can't help him. I can't even potty train my daughter. How could I help him?

I'm worthless. My artwork is juvenile and ridiculous. I look like the Bride of Frankenstein when I hoop. My tits and stomach sag. My skin is scared and flawed. My hair is awful. And I just get stupider and more pathetic by the day. Which makes it easy for people to bully me. I just scream "victim." I tried to be strong. I tried to have standards, to believe that I am worthy of being loved and cared for and treated with respect.

I was wrong.

I have to hide all these feelings from my daughter, because somehow I want her to break this cycle, to be better than me. To be strong and happy and not a magnet for abuse and humiliation. I don't know how to show her that. She asks me every day if she is "cute" or "pretty" and I die inside. I tell her "yes Baby, but more importantly you are strong and brave and smart and funny!" Last night she started laughing at me and said my hair was silly. I tried to explain to her that laughing at people isn't nice and she ended up crying under the covers in bed.

I give up. Call me whatever you want. Hate me. Sneer at me. Point out my flaws. If you miss one I'll fill in the blank for you. Use me. Abuse me. You can't hurt me worse than I've hurt myself.

Just pay me for it. I have to support my family. I have to make sure my daughter has good food and a roof over her head. I have to keep my husband out of jail. I have to take care of them.

Fat, Saggy, Ugly and Bitchy

Last night I tried myfreecams.com again for the second night. I made $6.00 and was tricked into getting naked for free and called those things in the title of the post.

I suppose I am irrationally naive for a 38-year-old woman because I keep making the mistake of believing what people tell me.

Everybody lies.

I am crushed under immobilising depression and fear. Today I could literally barely move, I napped in the living room while my daughter played and watched TV. I haven't eaten. Have to force myself to drink water. My hands are shaking and the tears are pressing behind my eyes.

But I can't cry. A few ragged sobs escaped while I was getting dressed, but I can't let go.

It is not an option.

Not that I have any.


So I tried another cam site last night. Up until now I have always worked through Streamate.com, last night I tried myfreecams.com for the first time.

Today I just want to cry.

I need money, a consistant source of funds, and cam modeling was doing that for me for a while. But after I got sick this spring and lost so much time online, it has basically dried up. Regulars that I thought I could depend upon have left me. Everyone wants it all for nothing. Free shows, free peeks, free everything.

I can't give it away for free.

Last night I was doing okay, getting to know people, chatting, being my friendly self. And then a "guest" (not an actual member) spent an hour telling me that I have to increase my cam score, which was dropping by the minute, in order to get better placement on the site, but would not tell me how to do so. People would come in the room and demand to see my pussy or ass or for me to strip. For nothing. One guy showed me his cam and wanted me to humiliate him. He got off. For fucking FREE! No tip.

I made $1.50 last night.

I made $0.70 in the two nights prior.

I used to make $30-$70 per night only working three hours.

I'm thinner than when I started. I have more tattoos. I am trying to be more open and fun.

And I am being dragged over the coals by stress and desperation and the need to get more income as soon as possible. I have to be able to make up for the fees my husband's DUI is going to cost us. I have to make sure we can keep our home.

And then, as I was in the middle of conversations, V woke up and I had to shut off the computer and run to my screaming child in high heels and a corset.

Today is not one of the days I enjoy being a cam model. I miss the fun, and the friends and the money and the orgasms.

Fucking cam factories and porn stars are killing me. No one wants a real woman with real limitations and desires and personality.

Down and Up

Last night was going to be great. I thought it was anyway. I had a decent night at work. Got a headache under control before wanting to shove a fork in my eye. Came home and my daughter was snuggly and sweet. Hubby seemed okay, not great, but okay. And I was in the mood to do more hula hooping and then go online.

That was the plan anyway.

I got V to at least pretend to go to sleep, so many kisses and hugs and last sips of water. But every time I left her room with a smile. How can you not?

While hubby was watching his nightly sitcom I made tumeric and ginger tea (antioxidant/anti-inflammatory) and told him I wanted to go outside to hoop once she was quiet. All seemed fine.

I had fun hooping. Got a little bit of a sweat on, stretched well. Then got ready to go on cam.

The second I was ready to sign on, I could hear him cough. I did sign on, was talking to some long time friends, just relaxing, but the sounds upstairs didn't stop. I know he hates to be able to hear me working so I signed off and went to check on him.

He was congested and coughing and I tried to offer tea or water or anything... But that wasn't really the problem, because it rarely is.

We aren't in a good place right now. Some things are okay, but others, important areas, are not.

I really have tried to do what I can to be a better partner. I'm not perfect, and I'm far from warm and fuzzy particularly to those closest to me. But I have tried. I make sure not to interrupt when he is talking. I modulate my tone of voice. I have tried to be more sexually available. I have supported him all through his mother's illness and death. I try to keep up with his relationship with his father. I praise him constantly for being a good father. Have supported his job. Am constantly keeping in touch with him. Try to express happiness more clearly.

Relationships are about adapting to each other and compromise, I know this, but I feel like I'm getting very little back for my efforts.

I can't get over him sneering "Bitch!" at me and slamming the door. I know a marriage isn't a contest but still, I can't win. I do not want to throw in the towel, but there has to be some reciprocity here! Yes, he has done amazing things over the last few years, but so many of them are in response to a crisis that essentially, he caused. He refuses to address his alcoholism. He demands that I express appreciation and then refuses to see it when I do. I mean I clearly remember gushing over work he had done on our landscaping and his response was "I really don't think you appreciate what I've done here." What? The? Hell?

He says he doesn't read this blog because every time he does it's a slap in the face. I'm sorry Love. But this is how I feel.

My biggest fear is he's turning into his father. I look at him and I see his father. I hear the judgment and disapproval and control. The physical intimidation. The emotional manipulation.

Yes, I have more fun with some of my members on cam then I have with him, because he is not fun to be around right now. He has hurt me. He has betrayed me. And he has disrespected me. Why wouldn't I be looking for appreciation and positive emotions? I can't talk about this with anyone in my family or my friends because honestly, they are tired of hearing it and I know that the sighs and eyebrow lifts will drive me mad.

I don't know what to do.

On the flip side, today with V has been brilliant and she wrote her name (the short version) THREE TIMES! I couldn't be prouder. She also read "CAT" and is now obsessed with the letter "Q" although if I let her watch "Star Trek: The Next Generation" that may change.

She is truly an astonishing child and I am so blessed to be her mother.

Adult content

I had to remove the link to my cam site to adhere to the terms of service for Blogger. if you come across this blog and want to find my site, send a request via comment and I'll point you in the right direction.


I'm having a sad day.

I was feeling rather strong and resilient for a while, and then something, I know not what, tipped me over to an emotion a bit softer than despair, a bit sharper than melancholy.

I've lost another friend.

Maybe he's reading this and hating me for sharing.

I share. It is how I cope. How I remind myself I'm real. So many of my interactions are online, semi-anonymous, virtual. But they are still real. I am real.

I am feeling disposable again. And once again, I understand. Always understanding, always left wondering why I attract people who find it so easy to hurt me. My husband lashes out at me when he feels like he failed in some way. A friend hurls insults. A kindred spirit walks away without a moment of remorse. Members who proclaim deepest attraction disappear without warning.

I am disposable. My friendship, is disposable.

It is a side effect of doing what I do as a cam model and being outside of the mainstream. I am "other." And if I'm not part of the in crowd, it is so easy, so very easy, to forget that I have feelings.

I will not delete this post. It is how I feel in this moment. Like all the abandonments I've experienced are crashing over me again. I am tired, and can't sleep. Lonely, and don't want to be around anyone.

I am sad.

Hopefully, tomorrow I will be less sad.

Thinking in the car...

My ride into work, which is between 20 and 30 minutes long depending on traffic, is one of the few times I'm completely alone and I have a habit of sinking into my own thoughts.

It is only Tuesday and I can say this week just is not going as well as last week. I haven't heard from a few friends that in the past would respond when I reached out. One has been silent for just over a week, another for a few weeks, and yet another for several days. I am almost physically restraining myself from assuming the worst, that I've been discarded yet again. But in silent moments in the car, the wave of loneliness crashes over me and I feel abandoned by friends I had allowed myself to become dependent upon.

I can't even discuss what has transpired with another friend. But it feels like loss.

I still don't know what my husband's DUI blood test will reveal. And that hangs over my head like Poe's deadly pendulum.

I don't always show it, but I feel things deeply, become attached firmly, and fear abandonment. Probably not the best emotional profile for a cam model, but no one is perfect.

The superstitious part of me hopes that if I express my concerns openly, I'll find emails in my inbox tonight. I'll try not to hope too hard...


We all project ideas of what we want from others onto them. Sometimes those projections match up and we get exactly what we expected. On other occasions we don't, and the disconnect can be jarring and painful.

I complain about humanity fairly regularly, but I actually like people. I like making new friends and being involved in interpersonal relationships. I enjoy the back and forth between people. I suppose I'm social.

In the last few months or so I've made a conscious effort to be more social, get out of my house, be involved in communities. I still have a long way to go, but I've met more "real world" people since April then I had in the previous year. I do not believe it is a weakness to enjoy the company of friends. And still, because of the nature of my life and my jobs, the vast majority of people I meet are online. They are still quite "real" to me and I do make connections that matter. As you can see from previous posts. I don't really hide much about who I am when I'm on cam. Some aspects may be tweaked, and of course I'm not giving out my physical address or phone number to any member who asks. But personality wise, I am what you see. Sometimes I have to paste on a smile if my heart is breaking, or feign interest in a topic that's just not my thing, but doesn't offend me, but that's a part of the job and I don't feel that it diminishes me as a person to do those things.

I believe many people meet me on the cam site with expectations of what I am and I either fit those expectations, or don't. My ability or not to fit someone else's idea of what I should be, is not my responsibility.

I have adapted a lot of aspects of my behavior and personality over the years as my choice to make my life better. But I have no obligation to change in order to ease another's discomfort with my reality. And I cannot force another to change to suit mine. Of course in relationships we adjust to each other out of love and affection and giving. That is a willing change, a giving change, a gift of grace, and I do not resent the changes I have made in myself based on those inspirations. But I won't be forced into a mould I don't fit for another person's convenience.

I am currently dealing with the issues of my marriage and wondering if my husband is capable of healing and being entirely the man I see sometimes. I want him to change aspects of his behavior and how he treats us. But I can't force him to do so. He will, out of his own desire to be whole, or he won't. And we will deal with the consequences either way. That needs to be my focus. I hope I have friends who love me and can support me while I'm going through this, but if needed, I'll do it alone, I have before.

I'm not angry now. I am sad. I am sad about so many things in my life at this moment. I am sad that my love isn't enough for some people. I am sad that I seem to attract abuse. I am sad. I hope that tomorrow I am less sad.

So... Censorship

I really don't like being told what I can and cannot say or write or think. And I do my best to avoid putting that restriction on other people. There are exceptions, because of course I'm a hypocrite, for instance, don't use "rape" as a joke or lightly with me. It isn't funny, it isn't a type of consensual sex, and it makes me sick. I would rather people not tell me what I'm thinking, I tend to react negatively to that and try my hardest not to tell others what I think they are thinking.

I've been censoring myself lately and I don't like it. I have a feeling even expressing this discomfort will be a problem, but I'm done.

I'm Kir, I'm a semi-public entity, I write a blog. I have tattoos, piercings, a brand, a thing for attachment parenting, respectful control games, body rituals and vegetarianism. I'm bisexual, don't like monogamy and speak my mind. I prefer being sober to not. I would rather find natural or non-pharmacological treatments to my health issues if possible, but I'll take my medications when I have to. I love zombie stories, would fuck Isaac Marion in a heartbeat and think Rick from "The Walking Dead" TV show needs to die. I am a sentimental fool and hold onto people and memories much too long sometimes.

I only say "No" when I mean it.

Take me as I am, or not. I'm getting stronger and healthier and more "me" every day and I'm very proud of my accomplishments and who I am. And I'm very willing to share my enjoyment and joy with friends who love me.

Trying to move on...

Nothing has been resolved with the husband. Nothing ever is. I do love him when he is the man he could be all the time. He can be funny, gentle, kind, giving, attentive. Unfortunately for a long time he's been more mean, selfish, dishonest, mercurial and ugly than the good things. But I am a victim of Hope and keep staying calm and moving on.

In spite of everything, I went to work on Saturday, did not do well at all, but then I had my Summer Solstice party Saturday evening and that was great. I wish I could spend time with these friends more often, but even once a month or so is so rejuvenating.

Everyone looks good in the dark, and by candlelight.

Look at me, completely relaxed.

Today I was so tired, I had to have Hubby get V ready to get picked up for her day with my family while I tried to sleep just a little longer before my meeting. What was my state's chapter of the Modified Dolls has just decided to break off and become our own local non-profit and today was the first meeting of the "Tattooed, Not Heartless" organization. We will be modified individuals working to raise funds and awareness for local charities while working to erase the negative stereotypes associated with body modification.

Then I met my family for some time at my aunt's house and had way too much dessert after dinner. But hey. I haven't been eating enough for days.

I still don't know what to believe. I am waiting for the results of my husband's blood draw to determine how much I can believe him. But at least I still have friends who love me, a daughter who is amazing, the cutest cats in the world. Seriously. And some damn fine ink.

And now I have to go to bed. My new tattoo is annoyed with me and wants me to go lay down with my arm straight so the ink doesn't come out. It is in the crook of my elbow. Because I'm a nut.

Good night world.

I love you.

No makeup

I didn't wear makeup to work today. Hell, I didn't even wear a belt and my jeans are falling off my ass. Didn't style my hair. Didn't make any effort to be seen.

Yesterday, I dressed to the hilt in rocker chick black, velvet platform sandals, plaid sparkly fedora, perfect makeup. I felt like a goddess. I know I'm not perfect, but it didn't matter, I looked good because I felt great.

Today, I want to disappear.

I have friends coming over in about three hours to eat, celebrate the beginning of summer, and just enjoy each other's company.

I am dreading this. But I know their love will help, even though I can't really talk about what is wrong.
The house is clean, food is made, lavender iced tea is brewing. Soon I will have to take a shower, and do my hair and makeup. But right now I am blank, naked, bare.

This is me. Just me.

What exactly is "Family?"

I was having a fantastic day yesterday. One of those days where you think "wow, how did I get so lucky?" I had fun with a friend, then got tattooed by my adorable and talented tattoo artist who is doing the butterfly sleeve on my right arm. I didn't break anything when I fell off my platform sandals. Life was golden and wonderful. I was sitting on my back deck (not nearly as luxurious as you think, small, old and splintery, but comfortable), having a Guinness and listening to music and the sounds of birds and my small waterfall while playing on my tablet when the music stuttered on my phone. I looked at it and saw "Missed Call from (Hubby)."

I called back and it wasn't my husband who answered. It was Officer Ididn'tcatchhisname. My husband had been arrested on suspicion of DUI and I had to go pick him up from the processing center.

It took a ridiculously long time for me to get the directions from the pleasant sounding officer because my brain was broken. You may feel that since I am just a stone's throw away from being clear of my ARD for my DUI last year, that it is hypocritical of me to feel deeply betrayed and terrified. But my husband and I have vastly different histories. For instance, I never spent hours hiding in bars getting drunk and lying to him about where I was. I have never brought us to the brink of financial ruin over and over by hiding the realities of our situation from him. I have never lied consistently and with alacrity about almost every facet of my existence. Including at least one, possibly two court matters in the last few years. I am not an alcoholic. He is.

He said he went out for a burger and had a beer because he was, "angry" and felt "abandoned by (his) family." His grandmother just died this week in a southern state and he had no interest in going to the funeral. I supported that decision because we can't afford it, I wouldn't go, and the family that would be there is batshit crazy.

If he had wanted to go, I would have figured out a way to send him. But he didn't, so I supported his struggle to tell his father that he wasn't going.

What family abandoned him?

The father that got into a screaming match with him in a parking lot over what thing he would give my son after my mother-in-law died?

The grandmother that was so old and back country no one knows how old she was, and was a raging racist?

The uncle that I can't be around because in 16 years he has never once treated me with the respect and civility I have always shown him.

The cousins that bitch about how the world is ending because the Boy Scouts won't descriminate agains (minor) gays?

Or the wife who sometimes worries about our stability and future, but has never lied, has controlled my temper, adjusted my way of speaking too him, made myself sexually available, taken jobs that allow us to keep our daughter out of daycare, and in general supported him every fucking step of the way.

So what does "family" mean anyway?

I can't even talk about him calling me "bitch" last night.

What more can I do?

Viking funeral for a vibe?

So Sweet died this week.

If you recall from my previous post Why name sex toys? Sweet was a purple vibrator that I absolutely loved. In fact he became my "go to" vibe of choice either alone or with other toys or with Hubby. I loved this vibe. It was purple and waterproof and had variable speeds and almost never used up all the battery power before I was a shaking, sodden, limp rag of pleasure.

I used Sweet on Sunday night, quite a bit, and then went to change the batteries. They were stuck. I had to sort of bang the base against my hand to shake them out. Then I replaced them, and turned it on.


Changed the batteries again thinking maybe some coconut oil on my hands had affected the terminals.


Prayed to all the Powers that Be and tried again.


At this point I just closed up shop and went to bed. Trying not to weep. And wondering if masturbation was ever going to be that fun again.

Then I got online for work the next night, and an old friend showed up that I hadn't seen for ever...

You know how my life generally likes to blindside me with unknown debt, horrible people, or just general anxiety?

This was not one of those moments.

We were chatting and I bemoaned the loss of my sweet Sweet. And suggested the option of a Viking funeral. But being plastic, that probably wouldn't be environmentally friendly.

My friend said "what was it?" And I looked it up on Eden Fantasys and found it. Alas no longer in purple, but found! I showed him the link. He told me to put it on my wishlist. And then he bought it for me!

Now I'm stalking the mailbox like some sort of addict.

I might be busy for a while when the package comes. Just a heads up.

The Rules

So it is no secret that I keep in touch with people I met on the cam site off site. Some of you read this blog, some have my email address, some have my phone number for texting...

What is really interesting is the "rules" that come along with this offsite contact. And almost universally, I'm not the one making them.

"Don't text me, just email."
"Text me! It is easier!"
"Don't message me, just text."

And then I get emails or texts or whatever at all times. Even though everyone knows I'm a family woman and have a "day job," the rules only apply to my behavior, not theirs.

This is an interestingly sexist behavior that I don't think they even notice they are doing. Even when we become friends, I'm still treated a bit like a commodity, a convenience for them... And it is purely a one way set-up.

I should probably be more annoyed by this than I am. Sometimes it gets to me, but mostly I just find it interesting.

Over six months really is a long time...

I just realized that I have known some of my cam friends for well over six months. That's a significant amount of time. Hell I knew my husband for less time than that before we were engaged. I went back through the blog and saw that I met one of my best friends from the site last November. He made me laugh so hard I almost peed, and continues to do so. The way to my heart really is through making me laugh. Multiple orgasms are nice too. But honestly, laughter is key. I have a lot of stress and a lot of disappointments in my daily life, but it is impossible to worry about the future when you are laughing so hard you are crying and gasping for breath.

Of course the people I meet camming (and telemarketing for that matter) come and go and there is no way I can depend on them to be there for "ever" whatever that means. But just as I've made friends that have lasted for over a decade online, I think some of these relationships will last for quite a while. At least I hope so.

And of course there are those who made an impact, and then disappeared. Leaving marks like craters on my heart.

I try not to let it get me too down, but sometimes I miss my friends.

I guess what I'm saying is, I like a lot of the people I've met through this crazy job, and I like the benefits of laughter and orgasms and money. And I hope I get to keep doing it.

I have new toy

And no it isn't a sex toy, although it certainly is sexy. I finally own a tablet, and since Google already owns my soul, I have a Nexus 7. It was a birthday present and I absolutely love it. I knew I wanted a tablet for a long time seeing my daughter play with my parents' iPads for most of her young life but not having any similar thing for her at home, I felt as though we were missing out. And now I have one and am having a relationship with it. And yes I can watch porn if I want, and Skype and do all sorts of time wasting and super fun things.

Yes I love my new toy. I should probably name it. ;-)

I've already talked sex and politics, so the last taboo...Religion.

So most people have seen the articles about "Beatriz," the El Salvador woman who was denied a life-saving abortion by her country's Supreme Court even though the fetus she was carrying had no brain and the skull was not completely developed and Beatriz was hospitalized due to the pregnancy exacerbating her lupus and kidney problems. It was also reported that Beatriz had one teenage child and a husband at home and was in such critical condition carrying the pregnancy "to term" could kill her, leaving her existing child without a mother and her husband a widower.

The basis for denying the abortion was the country's Catholic religion.

Here in the United States, conservative, religious, politicians have put forward hundreds of bills restricted women's access to abortion or contraception, using their "religion" and view of the "sanctity of life" as the reason behind their actions. Same thing with same sex marriage bans and so many social atrocities. "The Bible." "Religion." "Good moral values."

A friend posts stories like the one above on Facebook and always rants about how once again religion is hurting someone. And that always pisses me off.

This isn't about religion.

What it is about is misogyny, patriarchy, heterosexism... Hatred. Hatred using "religion" as a mask to hide behind. Because if the perpetrators say, "I do this out of love for you, out of my faith, my god that says to do this to you...." they don't have to take personal responsibility for the hatred spilling out of their hearts and minds to all around them. They don't have to realize that all they are sowing is destruction and discrimination and death. That their "love" is why woman die in back alleys and men are beaten outside of basketball games and children go hungry. They can hide behind their bibles and holy books and their outdated views of what a healthy society looks like and say "but I love everyone! I just want you to go to Heaven! (As soon as possible.)"

Religion itself isn't an evil. It is a tool. It is a tool to help some people find great peace and depths of compassion within themselves that helps them change the world in and around them for the better. For other people, it is a mallet with which they beat down all around them so they alone stand tall and pious on their island. Others yet don't need any religion at all, and do either great good, or great ill, all on their own. Religion isn't a panacea and it isn't an epidemic. But what it should never be, is more important than the lives of human beings and the health of the environment and the stability of our future.

Personally, if you are curious, I'm a semi-active member of a Unitarian Universalist Church. I identify as Pagan because I was raised Wiccan but do not practice as Wiccan anymore. I do find comfort in the word "witch." No I don't cast curses and I can't make that cutie down the street fall head over heels in love with you. I don't worship the devil and I don't dance naked under the moon (although that could be fun!). And I'm totally cool with Atheists.


I don't know what to say about the crash and burn of my health, emotions, sex drive, and stability that was the last several months. Obviously there were some terrible medication issues, as well as an increase in the triggers for my migraines and personal financial stress that just collided in a way that swept the foundation right out from under me.

Around the same time that I was physically starting to have issues, people I met through the cam modeling and had become close to, started to disappear. Some for various lengths of time, and I understand life gets in the way of having internet encounters, and some permanently. I have of course made new connections in the ensuing time, which makes me wonder sometimes what someone must be thinking to meet me in the midst of my effectively brain damaged and perpetually confused state and still want to get to know me. That is pretty special. That these people, who start out as complete strangers who, come on, are surfing around a sex site, stumble on to me and something clicks. They make the effort, through words on a screen, to convey caring, compassion, yes attraction, but more than that, an appreciation of what they see beneath my tattooed and pierced and scarred flesh. That is a gift. A very important part of why I continue to try and get back into working almost every night on the cam site.

It may seem like I'm just addicted to the attention. And yes, my personal sexual fantasies lean toward the "being worshipped" or "being the center of the scene" type scenarios, but I believe that my attraction to what these people give me is more about healing than sex. More about soothing old wounds and building new emotional pathways than just being a narcissist.

First of all, I truly have always believed that monogamy isn't all it is cracked up to be. Yes, I've been faithfully monogamous to my husband since 1997. Do I think this is a natural state? Not really. I've always felt like human beings have so many facets to our personalities that one person, no matter how seemingly perfect, can satisfy everything we want from interpersonal relationships. Not just sexually, but intellectually and emotionally as well. I'm blessed to have a best friend who has many of the same likes and dislikes that I do, so I have someone with whom to talk movies and music when my husband has turned off my Pandora station and scoffed at my love of werewolf movies. But I have a lot of interests, and issues.

If you've read some of my more brutally honest previous posts, you know that I'm a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, college rape and generally being taken advantage of. So it is both a bit surprising, and terrifyingly stereotypical that I am now a sex worker. Why would I put myself in a position to be abused, even via text or verbally if they use sound or phone when I have worked so hard to get passed those experiences? Because I have been treated amazingly by some people who for whatever reason were surfing a cam site, and found me, and started to care.

I'm not looking to steal anyone's boyfriend or husband. I'm not looking to replace my husband (most of the time). But to be given this gift of kindness (and of course financial gifts as well), and appreciation... By men who obviously have sex on the brain but don't just devolve into brutish behavior just because they are horny? This proves that abuse is not the default behavior. That I can be treated with dignity and respect, even when naked and writhing, or sitting in lingerie and impossible heels, that I don't automatically have to suffer because I'm a woman, or a cam model or a sex worker, or not physically "perfect" or particularly young.

Also getting paid to have orgasms, who wouldn't want that job? (Of course it doesn't always work out that way, but a woman can dream can't I?)

Clawing my way back...

Still trying to get my mojo back. This has been a long hard Spring for sure. I've been on crazy medication, had chronic headaches, been completely exhausted and generally felt completely uninterested in pretty much everything.

I'm trying to balance being a good mother, partner, and friend and figure out how to increase my earnings on the cam site and my lead numbers as a telemarketer. And honestly, I have no idea how to do this.

If you have any suggestions on how to juggle everyone's feelings and make myself more alluring to the cam members and make people I talk to on the phone immediately go for our offer, let me know. Because I'm out of ideas.

Coming back to myself

I'm almost weaned off of Topamax, my first attempt at a daily treatment for the migraine part of my combination headache syndrome. If you've read my previous posts, you know it really didn't work. Not only didn't it work, it made me very ill, mentally confused and has caused some transitory tachycardia as I wean off. I'm very much looking forward to being free of this poison. In the mean time I've been taking 3mg of immediate release melatonin between 10 and 11pm every night for a week and I'm feeling a world better. Still some headaches, but still, so much better.

I'm trying to regain my mojo on the cam as I get back to myself. I've lost members for various reasons over the last few months. Dumped for his wife, busted by girlfiend, busted by wife, working crazy hours, simply disappeared... I've made new friends online, some willing to just keep me company, which is always appreciated, some which I hope will be generous in other ways. I tend to shortchange myself if I'm not careful. I have to remember that ultimately, I do need material gain... Besides, that adds some spice. Doesn't it?

That being said, I'm probably not working tonight. For some reason Friday and Saturday nights tend to be awkward anyway, but with my health so iffy I should just relax and gorge on sexy Canadian television.

I've just discovered "Lost Girl" on Netflix and it makes me happy...

How to fix what isn't necessarily wrong?

"So does this pay this bills or is just for fun?"
"How much do you make doing this bb?"
"Do you make the big bucks bb?"
"You must make mega cash with that banging bod mama!" (My personal favorite.)

If you haven't already gathered, those were not so thinly veiled guesses by members at the cam site at how much money I make modeling. I'm pretty honest. "Not much." For instance, last night I made $1.56. Well actually considering I had to turn the house heat on, my space heater on, two lamps on, use the internet, my radio, a computer, the lights in the bathroom while I was getting ready, the energy I used making coffee...

I probably lost money last night.

But at least I made the effort right?

Damn work ethic.

That's the same work ethic that drove me to go into my telemarketing gig Friday night even though I was a mess. Should have known the migraine was going to hit any minute and called out. Instead I went in and ended up running out about an hour and half later and losing most of my weekend to an unrepentant headache. Awesome.

What confuses me though, is these men are so effusive in there appreciation and assurance that I must be a big earner and doing a wonderful job, and then they never take me private.

What the hell?

Mixed messages much?

I've asked my "regulars" on more than one occasion what it is that I am doing "wrong. " No one can put their finger on anything I should do or not do to get more private sessions. It seems to simply be luck of the draw.

So tonight I will paint my finger and toe nails, wear stockings and garter belt and maybe even a corset and a come hither gaze and hope a make a ton of money.

Wish me luck.

Cloudy with a chance of headache

I have desperately wanted to write a blog lately, but have not been able to, for a number of reasons. As I previously mentioned, I have started anti-convulsive medication for my chronic migraines and it has focusing and forming coherent thoughts difficult, sometimes close to impossible. I am doing better, but it is still a struggle and my emotional state is a bit fragile as well. 

My modeling this week was a bust too. I could barely focus, didn't feel sexy, one night I felt completely ill and had to sign off before something horrible happened. I'm hoping that the side effects abate as I get used to the medication and that the end result is worth the adjustment period. I'm still having headaches. Even have had migraines since starting the medication. The goal is to lessen the frequency and severity. 

In the mean time I have made some new friends, had a lot of nice chats. Even been promised a Norman Reedus autograph. And have discussed the appropriate time and place to use the term "slut." 

Only with humor and respect. And permission.

Never derogatorily. Ever. 

I'm hoping that I can get myself together and get online tonight, but I think that is going to require a nap, and a fuck ton of caffeine later. It would be nice if soon I can become my more eloquent and literate self again. I miss me, but I don't want to keep the pain around. I'm not a big fan of pain.

Trying to focus

I actually feel guilty when I don't post a new blog in a reasonable amount of time even though I think only four people ready this. If that.

As I mentioned a few posts back, I've been having serious problems with migraines and other headaches lately. So much so that I lost essentially an entire week of my life last month. So I finally did the adult thing and went to the doctor.

For the first time since my daughter was 6-weeks-old.

I've been diagnosed with combination headaches. Meaning if I don't have a migraine, I have a tension headache. If I don't have a tension headache, I have a migraine. If I don't have either, look up, there are probably pigs flying overhead.

So I left that doctor's appointment with three prescriptions. One is for an anti-convulsive medication, one is for an anti-hystamine that also causes anxiety relief and sedation and some pain relief and one is for something that "resets the brain."


I started the anti-convulsive medication two nights ago. I haven't been brave enough to use the other medications even when I had a headache yesterday. Apparently they can knock me out for quite a while so I need to have someone else here in case I pass out. I should not have driven to work yesterday. I was stoned out of my mind. I took last night off of cam modeling to try and get some sleep.

Today I feel like there are butterflies in my brain and I am having an optical migraine.

I want to do thirty things at once (none of them are useful) and everything looks wavy and shiny.


But I do feel a little less stoned and that might be a very good sign.

I'm hoping I have the weight loss side-effect from the medication. That would be fantastic.

Almost 20 years, and counting

In the early fall of 1993 I was at college in the way north of New York State. I had just started really partying and my dorm next door neighbor had brought me to a party full of upper classmen and alcohol. It was awesome.

Then, there was that inevitable moment when I thought, "oh god, where's the bathroom?" I headed down the short hallway to a door guarded by two almost identical uptiight sorority bitches who literally put their arms out and blocked my passage to the bathroom. "You can't go in there! T is in there!"

I looked down at the very clean, very sparkly, very expensive looking high heels they were wearing and said, "unless you want me to puke on your shoes, I'm going in." They backed up fast.

The bathroom was standard college fair, two stalls, two sinks, long mirror, unflattering light. What I didn't know was I was going to meet the most consistently important person in my life in that room.

He was leaning up against the edge of the sink trying to explain to some hapless freshman (I was of course a quite confident freshman, sure...) how to get blood out of his shirt. Taller than me (like the vast majority of humanity, and even some dogs), blonde, gentle eyes, being so kind to this other kid... I spent the rest of the party pretty much in that bathroom with C. And he has been my best friend ever since.

I would not have survived college without C, and he says that was mutual. We shared classes, secrets, drunken confessions, boys, sometimes even clothes. We cast each other in performances and writings, we took day trips and went to the strangest gay bar in the North Country. We both had illegal pet cats in our dorms at one time or another. We made out publicly and often, danced and dreamed, cried and cackled and loved fiercely. We talked about growing old together when we couldn't find partners and wondered how many cats makes you a "crazy cat person." We were inseperable.

Then we graduated.

In a big way the intellectual part of my life stopped when I left college. I had my double major in English Writing and Speech & Theatre and no plans. I was married a bit over a year later and have really focused on surviving in the intervening years. There hasn't been time or money and my passions got worn down by stress and strife and heartache. For years C and I were out of touch while he went on and got his Masters and started teaching and I did whatever job I could to pay the bills; bartender, model, secretary, marketing manager/ad specialties procurement, receptionist, veterinary technician, telemarketer, pet sitter, cam model...

Facebook reconnected us. And it was like there was no pause, no lost time. We picked up where we left off, and for me at least, the love and connection was just as strong, just as vibrant. I cannot see a life worth living without my friend C.

Last night we chatted on facebook for four hours, until 3:00am, about anything and everything. Boys, sex, college, tv, movies, Doctor Who, cat puke, dog puke, boys, sex toys, laundry, boys...

We have been friends, best friends, for almost 20 years. It is worth giving up almost an entire night of sleep to have someone like that in your life.

Some friendly advice

My posts have been fairly grim lately. Lots of heartbreak and anger and not much levity. So I'm going to turn the light back to my "day job" which is actually just my "not quite so stupidly late night job," telemarketing.

No matter how much you think you hate telemarketers, if you are a jerk to us, we hate you more.

Let me say that again.

You may hate telemarketers a lot, like a whole lot, but we hate you more.

You see, think of the numbers involved here. Perhaps you did something stupid online and you are getting a "ton" of telemarketing calls for a day or so. Maybe even as frustratingly often as 10 calls a day or so. You finally snap and call the next poor sap that gets connected to you (we DO NOT DIAL THE PHONE OURSELVES) a "stupid fucking dipshit piece of crap why don't you get a real job?" And slam down the phone or hit "end" or however you terminate calls.

Then you go on with your day.

My terminal is connected to hundreds of calls in a day. Hundreds. Not all connect, but many do. I speak to dozens of people in a four hour period. Maybe 2 or 3, sometimes none, sometimes 5 or 6 people are actually nice to me during the shift and I might get leads. The rest are either completely dismissive, or total assholes.

And then there are the ones who stand out.

"Why the FUCK would I need that? Don't you do your FUCKING HOMEWORK BITCH?"

"Didn't you know you are calling a business to dipshit asshole MOTHERFUCKER?"

"NO! I don't fuckin' need anythin' you fucking piece of shit!"

These are all quotes I have actually heard.

I would like to point out something to those who hate telemarketers and like to treat us in the manner illustrated above.

I know where you live.

Now I am an honorable and reasonable human being and would not retaliate in any way against the poor frustrated souls who treat me with such vitriol and vulgarity. Also I want to keep my job.

But if you just told me that I mistakingly called a business, and then curse me out violently, you better be very very glad you got ME, because I won't Google your phone number to find out what the company is and then Yelp about your fantastic interpersonal skills. If you threaten to come to my house and ruin my dinner with my family, remember that I did not make any direct attempt to call you, it is a computerized system using publicly available information, and while you have no idea from where I am calling, I have your home address in front of me. If you threaten to call the police on me for doing my job, remember they don't like being harassed by drunk jerks who think that somehow their personal lines are sacrosanct. They aren't.

Just remember, next time you take in that deep breath to be a total asshole to a telemarketer, chances are, they know exactly where and who you are. And not everyone is as reasonable and law abiding as I am.

"It is always about Love."

In spite of my recent rejections and associated pain, I had an absolutely a-freakin'-amazing cam night last night.

Trying to salve some of my wounds, I had reached out to a long time member who is always fun, and scheduled a session for later that night. When the time came for us to do what we do, I was not disappointed. He is engaging and appreciative, takes direction well and is easy to please. Everything I needed. Not to mention he likes it when I use my toys, so I am pretty much guaranteed at least one orgasm. This is a very good thing.

After our session, I debated whether or not to continue on and open myself up to seeing other members and possibly being hurt more. Back and forth I wavered, remembering the flung insults from just a few days ago, knowing the pain of losing my friend was fresh right below the surface of the endomorphic rush of orgasm. I did eventually decide to take the chance. The first several minutes were depressing. Several members logging on and off, on and off, silently seeing and leaving, leaving me feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Eventually though, someone stayed.

My new virtual companion was a completely new to me member who was tentative about expressing his particular fetish. Remember though, I am completely understanding. And his need wasn't completely abhorrent to me in the moment, so I decided to give it a shot.

Apparently I did a good job. Five star rating good job.

After that session, members new and old, some I know slightly, some I know quite well, started emerging from the woodwork. There was friendly chatter and very sweet and appreciative comments about my appearance and personality. I relaxed completely. Eventually someone I hadn't seen in a while asked "so how was your day?" I had been asked about how I felt and how my day had been so many times that this final question pushed me over the edge. All night I had been saying "okay" and leaving it at that, but this time, this time I couldn't. Perhaps it was the kindness I had been shown by every single member in the chat room. Perhaps I was simply tired of hiding my pain.

"Well... I am obsessively honest, and truthfully, today sucked."

I actually told these men, some of whom are very new to hanging out with me, that I was hurting because a member to whom I had become close had severed his connection to me.

"If any of you decide to stop seeing me, please do not say, 'I hope you understand.'"

"Eww," one member responded.

Quickly the conversation turned to how what starts as fantasy in this cam world, on rare occasion, turns into intimate connections with the real people behind the handles. That what starts out so radically passionate changes when you remember or realize that there is a "real person" on the other side of the computer. It was truly eye opening and heartening to see these men talk about how special they found me because I was real to them.

Then they started taking me private.

Over and over, sometimes more than one member in the room at a time, giving and taking, asking me to find my own pleasure, giving me time and support and freedom. Eventually I was in a first-time session with a new member and we were partaking in a bit of D/S play. I had controlled him initially and now was relaxing after an orgasm and he said he needed more, to experience more of the sweetness and passion. He wanted to dominate the next part of the session. Asked if I was willing to submit. I said I was, but that I would express it if there was a line I wouldn't cross.

"It is always about Love." he responded.

Yes, it is.

Not necessarily romantic love. I don't meet my members, don't have any designs on them. But in the moment, in the intimacy of a session, I am trusting them with my vulnerability and they are trusting me with their desires. There is Love in that. And when it is reciprocal and respectful and acknowledged, the sessions are outstanding.

Not everyone Loves themselves and their own humanity enough to give it, and they feel hollow to me. As I am sure they do to themselves.

This is a lesson way beyond the cam and the bedroom and intimate relationships. "Love" makes us better people. More honest, more gentle, more giving, more willing to receive. More open.

Love shared is multiplied. Give a lot of it. You'll get even more back.