TastyTrixie.com

Archive for the ‘accomplishments’ Category

What’s a smile turned upside down? Something much jollier than a frown, I think!

Just finished paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, assessing money stuff . . . thinking we’re doing all right. January was an expensive month (like, thousands of dollars more than what we budgeted), but we survived it. We stayed warm, ate well and I feel optimistic about February and very focused.

Thank you to everybody who supports us (currently or in the past or will again in the future) as members to our sites, camshow customers, and/or contributing donations, gifts, kind words, or telling other people online about us. You help make our lives dreamy and affirm my excitement over what we’ll be able to do with ourselves and our porn sites next year if we keep our noses to the grindstone in 2012.

*****

Links to check out:

• this sexy post from Delia about how my feet excite her (including pics of my toes and soles)
• Lightning Allie’s super-interesting post about how being right feels nice, but being wrong is better (I hope some other people comment so as to distract from the long-winded self-centered comments I left)
• pictures of Rugaru and his friends; I hate talking on the phone so I’m really glad I can see a little of what he’s up to on his blog. He’s new to blogging and twitter and stuff so if you have feedback or tips (don’t leave me in charge of showing him all the ropes!) or just some time to let him know you’re checking out where he’s at & going (if indeed you are/want to), I think he would like that.
• I deleted, added, and fixed links to some of the blogs in my sidebar. Still seems insufficient exposure to lots of our friends (and I know I’m probably missing a lot of people) but anyhoo. I really love a lot of those people!

It’s mild, muddy and all green and brown outside, with only a few patches of unmelted snow in our yard:

I didn’t even feel chilly standing outside with my legs and bush exposed wearing this thin henley on top:

OKAY . . . so maybe it WAS a little cold!

A picture of the snow and ice melting off the roof over the cabin’s doorway:

A little snow left today in the cracks of the path to the cabin:

I kept track of the hours I worked this week; anything I do today counts as “overtime” . . . so I’m going to try to take it easy and recharge to start next week off with lots of energy. I think Delia and I are going to see a movie. I have to actually plan non-work things to do or I’ll just sit here at my computer(s) working.

It’s supposed to rain and rain and rain for days and days. And they say high winds might blow some (more) trees down. Luckily we haven’t lost power at all; other people (like my mom and Lightning Allie) around Puget Sound have been without power for days. Delia and I have it pretty good up here!

Sorry this nudie pic is late… it was a stressful day in which I blew up when H. Rugaru backed out of a shoot at the last minute. Then I said a bunch of mad things and he said some shitty things and I said that if that’s how he feels then he has to leave tomorrow.

And then because I was so mad I actually forgot I said that & asked Delia when she & I were alone, “so what’s going on? Is he leaving? I feel like he’s supposed to leave tomorrow but do we really know that or did I make that up in my head?”

Delia looked at me strangely and said, “I think that’s the plan.”

And I was like, “okay…okay…but how do we know that’s the plan? I mean, who said so?”

And my girlfriend gently looked into my crazy eyes and said, “you did.”

And I vaguely remembered saying it, and then I remembered why. And that it was the decision I had to make. Even if he doesn’t actually leave right away. Even if it means I’m an impatient controlling selfish asshole. I had to make that decision.

And hours later he and I fucked sweetly like maybe it was goodbye to all of this and here’s the picture and there probably won’t be any new ones like it to count-on or look forward to or make a meaningful collection out of:

Dripping Rugaru cum out of my pussy, down my crack into a wet spot.

I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m stupid.

I did the dishes with my angry energy & tortured myself with the compulsion to throw the black-handled soup mug, the orange vase, the mismatched plates from auction and half a dozen coffee mugs, feeling bitterly deprived looking at the walls & windows I could feel my arms sending them through.

Not throwing them left me feeling exhausted & defeated so I went to the liquor store.

*****

This is about sex work. This is about addiction. This is about gender. This is about idealism and trust and disappointment and fear. This is about practicing love poorly. Without regret.

This is about what Picard says about space, the final frontier, and boldly going. And crying into his shoulder because of it.

Trixie and Rugaru wearing helmets, practicing loving teamwork.

Seeking out new life. It’s about that, too. Finding it every day.

*****

I miss Delia. I miss myself. I miss quiet. I miss my illusions of control. I’m relieved in some ways and hopeful in others but really really sad, too.

I’m a mess tonight but I got all kinds of work done today! Okay, maybe some of my accomplishments were more health-oriented than “work” but give a dog a bone…

In the past four or five months I’ve endeavored to do many a good (or at least interesting) thing.

*Remember how I was doing that ninety day program? Which involved leaving the house and being around people every day? Well! We spontaneously decided to move in the middle of that, but since I’d made this goal I kept going even though it started to be overwhelming and piss me off. Because I’d made a commitment to doing it and thought it was pretty fucking simple and I should be able to do it. And it was supposed to be GOOD for me!

• WHAT HAPPENED: I failed to complete the ninety days. And then felt like a loser who couldn’t perform even the simplest of assignments. But really there was a lot of stuff going on and I should have QUIT when it ceased to be effective and started making me crazier. Instead I lost sight of the purpose and doggedly tried to stick to something just to try to feel like I could successfully finish something.

*We moved.

• THAT WAS HARD. But I’m so glad we did it. Kind of sucked up a month or more, though.

*Immediately after we finished moving I decided to apply for a residency thingy that every year I say I’m going to apply for and never do. I started the application before we decided to move so again put pressure on myself to FINISH something for once.

• WHAT HAPPENED: I told everybody I was busy and to leave me the fuck alone, spent hours working on it (in my head, at least) but I still didn’t finish it. The process was useful and interesting, though, and it forced me to ask two people I admire if I could put them down as references. Just having them say yes was pretty awesome and made me feel good. Another failure to finish something, but got a lot out of the process anyway.

*I socialized! In addition to the 90 day thing and the screwing around with a person I shouldn’t be screwing around with, over the past few months I’ve spent more time talking on the phone with people and hanging around with them than I have in YEARS. Still not as much socializing as “normal” people do, but I broke my carefully-written rules to limit interacting with people (particularly in times of stress, like a big MOVE) and took advantage of rare visits to WA from friends Fayette of the Cockettes, and Tara / ecowhore (formerly hobostripper). We also visited with fellow Washingtonian pals Heather Corinna and Blue, and Lightning Allie.

• ASSESSMENT: I wouldn’t trade the time I spent with these friends (or transient playmates) for a bigger sense of accomplishing more work or making more money. But I’m still not sure what quantity and frequency of socializing I can sustain over the long haul in my life and actually get things done AND have the amount of quiet time in solitude I like/need to have. Delia’s been picking up a lot of slack at home and with work to enable me putting my energy towards these social experiences. I also failed to spend enough quality time with my mom or my sister and her family during this time so I have a long way to go in achieving satisfactory balance between work, play, solitude, friendships and family. Ultimately I think a big part of the solution needs to come from being less emotionally involved or obligated-feeling when it comes to interacting with customers or FEELING like I owe special one-on-one attention to everybody who appreciates me. Because
  • I’m a failure at that anyway
  • it’s not a sustainable business model / there aren’t enough hours in the day
  • I want my work to be creating more, better and more creative, unique-to-me content and ways many people can experience it NOT overextending myself to individual people
  • My social life needs to be with people *I* choose (or am blood-bound to) and do not need to maintain a certain level of service towards in order to retain a customer
  • Basically? I need to respect my personal limitations more and establish better boundaries between my work life and my personal life. I thought I was happy with my work life BEING my personal life, but that’s actually pretty fucked up and needs to change. I still have a really difficult time in separating the two, as with the guy I screwed around with (I couldn’t tell if I was doing it just for fun or because I thought he’d be a good convenient stunt cock to make porn with; the answer is both, but I need to stop forcing everything in my life to do double duty; too often I’ve passed up good experiences because I couldn’t exploit them for work).
  • Needing to work fewer hours needs to be a higher priority / goal to work towards.
  • I want time and space to be physically intimate with more people. Both privately and for work.
  • I need to treat work more like a regular job than my entire reason for being and source of self-worth. Because sometimes I don’t do a good job or work breaks or people don’t like me and I need to still be worth something to myself even when that happens. And it’s happened a lot over the past year.
  • I need to be a better partner to Delia. Next to myself, she and my relationship with her is my highest priority in life.

• ALSO: I identified a few people I don’t want to feel so attached and obligated to and do NOT want to have boundary-hazy relationships with. People I need to distance myself from. I’m figuring out that I can continue to love people easily and with a certain level of emotional or spiritual generosity without being their friends or feeling I owe them something or even interacting with them at all. Does that kind of love have any real value? It does to me, and beyond that I need not give a shit. Nobody is entitled to my love, time or friendship. Essentially I need to be more selective about who gets inside me and how deeply I let them penetrate.

*I took non-adult pictures of a couple of beautiful local ladies for their website and ads (for their totally non-adult work). I was flattered that they asked me, but also really nervous about it and wished I hadn’t agreed to do it because it was yet another opportunity to waste time failing at something.

• THIS WAS HARD. We don’t have the equipment and I don’t have the expertise to do a great professional job at this. One of them cried when she saw the pictures because she looked (felt like she looked) fatter than she wanted to look (she’s crazy-gorgeous) and I suspect they both had really high expectations of me and my supposed ability to take flattering photos (they know we make porn). I learned a ton from this thought-provoking experience, with maybe the biggest thing being that I am really fucking brave to put so many raw naked imperfect images of my very average imperfect self on the internet. Most women in this country would be mortified and sink into a deep depression to be as exposed as I am online, even ones that are a billion five times hotter than I am. This reminds me that 1) I am awesome in some ways and 2) my work is valuable. There are tens of thousands of women who are more beautiful than I am and have bigger and/or perkier knockers than I do (or longer legs or flatter tummies or tastier feet) but very very few of them are equipped to do what I do for as many years as I have without wanting to cut their own throats and castrate all men. I’m not saying my work is intrinsically horrible and damaging, I’m saying that IT’S NOT SOMETHING THAT JUST ANYBODY WITH A VAG CAN DO.
• ALSO: I am more skilled and useful at listening, understanding and helping somebody with tearful gendery emotional body-image perceptual stuff and finding ways to put that stuff into healthy contexts than I am at being a photographer. I would rather spend time having (and becoming better at) those discussions with people than taking pictures of them. Right now neither is a priority for me, though; my priority is continuing to exploit my own high tolerance for raw exposure to get our credit cards paid off. And to steadfastly love myself while I do it. And to understand the very distinct difference between me and projected images of me.

*I did our 2010 taxes. Late again. But whatever.

• This takes me awhile, but it’s when I kind of assess our financial health and progress so for now it’s worth it for me to continue doing it myself. We’re making some progress in some ways even though our paysite income in 2011 is half of what it was when it needed to be twice as much to get ahead. So our sites need to make 400% what they’re making now to get anywhere financially. For a few years, anyway. OR we have to cam our asses off. Which is what Delia’s been doing to make up for the shortfall.

*We’re establishing better systems with the help of Lightning Allie. This includes being better organized with better plans for content production and processing, housework, debt reduction, and having some balance in our lives and figuring out what we want our lives to be like. We are no longer trying to do everything ourselves, just the two of us, or making decisions from within a weird bubble of isolation.

• RESULT: I feel a lot less anxious, a lot less overwhelmed, and like a lot more is possible by doing less myself / focusing on fewer things. And I’m enjoying contemplating and grappling with what I want those primary areas of focus to be. SEE ABOVE. And we’re getting ahead on shooting content. I feel more secure. I feel like I’m carrying much much less of a burden of memory and responsibility and obligation-to-follow-through because Allie is there to keep us on track and do a lot of the stuff that we really don’t need to be doing. I can drop balls without being scared I’ll lose them forever. It’s easier to get things done when you don’t have armfuls of bushels of balls.

Now you’re kind of caught up on tons of (the boring-to-others parts of?) my life lately. I don’t complete a lot of what I start, but when I’m okay with that I still wind up *doing* a lot. That’s pretty cool.

I started to write something else I’ve been spending time on but it felt too private to be conveyed in here in this format, so I deleted it for now.

While packing up and moving, I rediscovered a lot of jolly useless crap that I’ve hoarded, including these fortunes I saved for some reason:

Rediscovered fortune-cookie fortunes

Guess which one I like best (if I were to choose one to be my REAL fortune or that I actually believe in)?

Definitely not “you will have many friends when you need them”. That one gives me an anxiety attack – total fortune cookie curse. I thought they stopped making those kinds!

I like “you are the center of every group’s attention” marginally better, but again, it sounds like a curse pointing out a strong character defect. It might as well say, “you are an obnoxious narcissist and/or a buffoon.” Like, everywhere you go YOU WILL MAKE AN ASS OF YOURSELF!! Have you ever considered being seen and not heard? Okay, how about if you just take a shower next time because you smell like a stale cookie baked in a butt oven. Decorating your face with your own smegma isn’t as cool as you think it is. And for Christ’s sake, put your tits away and stop talking like a fourth grader impersonating an Asian comedian.

I do not belong to any group, I am simply an object of every group’s derision. There is “every group”, and there is me. I don’t think I have low self-esteem, I truly think that’s all implied by the wording of the fortune.

“Put the data you have uncovered to beneficial use” resonates with me. STRONGLY. Like a whisper of truth from the great computer in the sky, urging me along to fulfill my virtual destiny on the gameboard of “life”. I can feel proud of being chosen to uncover data and succeeding in dusting off this wisdom — these necessary components of information –  and look forward to more being revealed as I take the Next Logical Steps in applying all of it. My future is certain, but I do not know what it is . . . yet. But everything will most certainly fall into place and I will either end world hunger or win a lifetime supply of personal awesome, which I may build in the form of a vault filled with cakesters, lost Patricia Highsmith novels (imagined and written by moi, of course), benzos, and the interchangeable body parts of my robot sex drone*, “Vector” (affectionately named after my favorite affordable fountain pen by Parker, which I will have cached by the thousand).

Despite the allure of that fortune, I’m fated to accept “you have remarkable power which you are not using” as the true script written exactly for me. I could look at it as the forty-year-old’s new age version of all of my report cards stating over and over again that I fail to work up to my full potential, like the punch in the gut every time a family member on Intervention tells the addict, “you could be so much more . . . will you please take this precious opportunity today to be the Person You Are Meant to Be?” I would be like, “why do you think I take drugs in the first place?? Too! Much! PRESSURE!!”

But I don’t know . . . there really is something magical about that little slip of paper saying it like a promise from the universe instead of a disappointed father to his teacher-turned-whore daughter. So even though I threw away the fortunes, I’m going to try to use that one as an affirmation, and every time I say “I have remarkable power which I am not using” I’m going to feel a mountain of sparkling gold coin growing under my feet, strong and heavy, feeling like a reserve of money in the bank that I may withdraw at any time. I snap my fingers then open them a quarter of an inch, and coin flies up in between them! I snap my fingers on my other hand and open them again and a cakester appears in my fist! I tap my tall shiny boot on my platform of tinkling, clanging gold and a platinum-furred gopher appears in my arms!

Then I start the engine on my golden mountain of reserved power and fly across the world as though on a fertilizing-lawnmower hovercraft, gilding everything with my perverse tinkling laughter, and everyone has to put on masks like when Mount St. Helens blew or run inside lest they pollute their lungs with my infectious 14 carat gold ash. Then me and my platinum gopher land at the top of an extremely soft and unbelievably tall grassy hill that we roll all the way down until we land — laughing gold even harder than before — on a pillowtop mattress that floats off into a shimmering blue lake filled with lily pads holding bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy.

*is it redundant or actually just plain inaccurate to call something both a robot and a drone?

May Day marked the ninth anniversary of my TastyTrixie.com members-only area opening and the third year of commemorating the event with photos shot by a flowering fruit tree. I love that we were able to make them sort of retro-spooky and shadowy to contrast with everything so seemingly innocent and sunshine-y about being under an umbrella of white cherry blossoms:

Reading The Once and Future King Outside

The deep intellectual fantasy cleavage of a bookworm in the grass.

Like a lot of nerds, I grew up feeling sort of ashamed of loving books and wanting to spend as much time alone with them as I did. There’s still a shadow side associated with solitude-loving escapists who spend hours lost in stories, and of course people from my generation and earlier turned to them as a source of porno-stimuli. Our public librarian even ratted me out to my mom when I was in fourth grade for checking out books with explicit adult content.

Moody bookworm nestled into shadows with tales of King Arthur.

For this photo set I packed a book-picnic consisting of three very differently-told versions of Arthurian Legend: The Mists of Avalon (best ever), Le Morte d’Arthur (which I have almost no desire to read, but I love to smell its leather binding), and my seventh grade copy of The Once and Future King which I feel so sentimental about it almost makes me cry. Okay, it DOES make me cry.

What is betwixt mine legs? Tis a mystery of dark, hairy proportions!

I think I’m only now starting to come to terms with how much time I desire to spend with books and strive to actually make stories an important high-priority part of my life without feeling they’re just a guilty indulgence I don’t deserve and something my dad frittered away time and money on. I’m not a fast reader anymore now that I let my mind wander, I don’t retain much of what I read, and I think finishing books is overrated. But if I would have acknowledged and planned to make book-enjoyment as much of a priority as I should have back when I started webwhoring, I think I might be in a very humble but healthier and more-satisfying position than I am now.

Tickling my big natural breast with a cherry blossom.

Oh well. You can’t learn everything in books even when they give you the recipe for happiness. Some of us just have to get older and less stupid in small increments. Here’s to learning, regardless of the pace!

Happy late flower-blossoming May Day & anniversary to myself!

After months of not using the cabin “properly” because all I had was a tiny wooden tv tray downstairs (so I spent most of my time up in the loft which is really only suitable for cozy lie-down tasks), I finally spotted the perfect table and bought it with a small portion of one generous philanthropist’s donation(s) to the cause:

Price of my new table for the cabin.

It looked pretty wrecked, but then the guy came out, said he hadn’t even washed it off yet . . . I scratched at a fault with my fingernail and it crumbled right off!

Dirty, DIRTY table!! Goooood Girl, table . . .

So I bought it. I’d been lazily keeping my eye open for a desk or table that would fit, be serviceable and feel lovely but it took all these months to drive by the perfect table sitting on a sidewalk for sale. I couldn’t have found it on purpose or known this was exactly what I wanted. And I wouldn’t have wanted a new, reproduction version of this table.

Delia and I brought it to the cabin, inserted it into place, and I cleaned it. Almost all of this rusty stain disappeared:

I'll bet I can clean this off completely with vinegar & elbow grease.

The white apron around the edge of the table won’t ever be close to pristine, but Delia told me to rub the rusty legs with aluminum foil and they’ll get better:

Contrast rusty pole on left w/ shiny pole on right (scrubbed with foil).

I haven’t scrubbed much more than that, but I have spent a few good hours sitting at the table since then, feeling it’s perfectly faded and mildly scratched smooth cool top.

I think it’s pretty hard to find a formica table with chrome AND a leaf AND with the gingham top. The ones I see online with a gingham pattern all have wooden legs (and definitely no leaf). Not that I care about making great antiquing finds, but I do like to know a little about my tools and things I like. For all I know this IS a reproduction, but an older one than the styles they make now. Definitely leave comments if you know more about these tables or have some memories of these kinds of tables you feel like sharing. We could stuff a whole little family into the cabin for Thanksgiving dinner or Chinese takeout or something!

Look at my table leaf (& me in my shiny kettle)!

‘Tis clean! But still so touched and used.

Look at how clean my new old table is now!

Right now I’m doing a bunch of time-consuming windows updates on the laptop so that I can install windows live writer as an offline blog editor, but now I’m not so sure I want to do that. Really I just want to get over there to the cabin RIGHT NOW and sit at my table.

Stay tuned for more rhapsodizing about My Perfect Table (and all of the things it is perfect FOR).

For most of three days this week doing taxes and other money stuff consumed me. It shouldn’t take that long – I’m a moderately organized person, but not AS organized and on top of things as I should be to make quick work of filing (yes, late). Mostly my brain is just easily overwhelmed so I have to split myself into a couple of different characters: the inept, freaking-out person doing the taxes and the kind-hearted special-education teacher coaching myself through it all, breaking everything into manageable chunks, giving myself little pep talks after mini-breakdowns.

I also checked our credit reports and in general did everything as thoughtfully as I could. I know most people hate doing their taxes, but even though some aspects of it are challenging for me (and I don’t exactly look FORWARD to it like a trip to the beach) it’s always a kind of special time of year for me. I would even call it mildly spiritual. It’s the time when I assess a bigger picture than the most recent day’s, week’s or month’s unexpected financial traumas and give thanks for the money we’ve made and people who enjoy our work enough to pay for it, not just last year but in all the years that have gone before.

Finding out we owe almost $20,000 to the IRS (including payment plans we’re still on from the past) in addition to all of our credit card debt (WAY more than $20k) was also a spiritual opportunity and experience. I managed to apply lessons I’ve been shown to live in the present moment and realize everything is okay right now, even great. Our debt is just a nonsensical, meaningless series of numbers in terms of the now. We have the means to MORE than meet all of our basic needs and to keep doing our jobs and many other things we love to do. You might call it the brain’s way of protecting its host’s desire to continue living, but I call it profound and magical.

I do not call it denial, though. I spent hours simply looking at the numbers of how much we owe, making realistic goals for decreasing our debt by focusing more on the positive aspect of trying to increase how much credit we have available to us, and feeling genuinely excited that we can not only make significant dents in our debt, but even get out of it someday and experience more freedom.

The main reason I am able to feel positive and hopeful is Delia, though. Many weeks of late she has pretty much doubled our income by webwhoring for hours and hours upon hours while still updating her site every week. I pretty much drained her bank account to pay down our credit cards a wee bit (wee relative to the amount we owe, NOT wee looking just at the dollar amounts paid).

Anyway, I’m sorry for the interruption to sexy-time and updates; I did think I’d get the taxes done faster this year, but no such luck. I know I sound really calm about it, but I didn’t have anything left over to get anything else done. Yesterday I woke up at 5 am after only four hours of sleep, probably because my insides just wanted me to fucking FINISH already so after tossing and turning for awhile I just got up and aside from the money stuff I was too much of a zombie to get anything else done requiring brain power or eye focus.

We fell asleep around midnight laughing at a Simpson’s episode (Homer vs. Dignity) we’d already watched once at dinner, but it was so funny and apropos (“when the Simpsons once again have financial problems, Mr. Burns pays Homer to play pranks on others and humiliate himself in public”) we watched it again. I so relate to Mr. Burns and would love to have my own prank monkey! If Delia keeps working her ass off like this, someday she might be able to afford to buy me one!! I would love to throw her money at some poor schmuck while forcing him to writhe on the floor of a public restroom in a diaper. Yesssssss . . .