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Archive for the ‘priorities’ Category

Picture Delia just took of me drying my hair inside the cabin while she stood outside the cabin door looking in:

Might bring back fond memories for someone. And/or be a foretaste of more hair dryer pics to come with someone else. I’ll say no more. They’re almost like inside jokes. Except not really “jokes”.

Thank you, Delia, for interrupting your camming to come outside and do this for me! I tried to take some pictures myself using the self-timer and my little camera-phone tripod setup, but they were utterly worthless relative to the effort and headache I was putting into it. Well, even NOT relative to that.

*****

I haven’t been spending  much time over the past year or so surfing, reading blogs, “researching” things online, etc. But today I did a little of that. It was interesting. But I have nothing to show for it now except a great reminder that now is not the time in my life to get all up in arms and “informed” about important things. More important is just starting my day out on the right foot, working efficiently, and taking care of myself with time and energy left over to be with Delia. There are some goals I want to meet by the time I turn 40 and that’s barely over a year away. And then maybe I’ll do important things. Or just have more time to fuck lots of people. Or just have more time to fuck Delia lots!

Going to get into bed now and start out better tomorrow.

In the cabin loft where we now have a webcam thanks to H. Rugaru (formerly known as “The Hunter”) who also shot this pic right before we fucked:

Rear view of me naked except for panties down around my legs.

He wants me to keep the creampie pics from this sex session private. For today, at least.

*****

Starting today, the first Monday of 2012, I’m trying again to diligently log the number of hours I work along with formulating very specific all-day schedules and to-do lists. With three of us living and working together I need to have very good plans so that I know what I’m doing . . . and can communicate that to Delia and Hunter. I want to be doing my best every day to contribute and be healthy.

In case you’re wondering, fucking was NOT on my schedule for today (he was originally just up there to take pics of me naked!), but I still counted it as work because you could have been watching it on our spycams. It’s not a performance, but it is live content for our members. Note: I wouldn’t have counted staying in bed all day and lazily off-and-on-fucking, though, as hours worked.

If you’d like to show your appreciation for my free daily nudie pics, leave a comment and/or become a member!

JOIN my site to watch us live on cam!

9/3/2010 Cabin Day #1: 0 (zero) words

Loading stuff up in the van to take to the cabin I worried that the neighbors would think I was moving out and leaving Delia. Maybe that worry was just a projection of my own discomfort over making time alone/away a priority. Because there aren’t good models affirming pursuing time alone away from home unless it’s to do regular work that regular people do in the midst of whole bunches of other regular people. People who desire as much time alone as I do are widely regarded as unhealthy freaks or suspected of having other motives besides a simple need for solitude. Whatever the reason, I wanted to keep running back inside to hug Delia and get reassurance that whatever I‘m doing it‘s not what it might look like to the neighbors.

*****

At the cabin the wind blew and I wondered how come the skinny tall trees here don’t fall down. I amazed myself by not being annoyed that there’s a daycare with kid sounds a block away. I felt the sun on the back of my neck. I gazed at the crescent moon with breakfast around noon. I scratched up my arm and the back of my thigh on blackberry bush thorns. I figured out where I can stand and lie in the cabin with the blinds open without being seen by the girl in the big house or the people next door. I made a note to buy a couple of curtains to further hide myself when desired in those couple of places where I can be seen. I caught up on all of the pooping I didn’t get done while we were away from home for three nights.

I started to stop thinking about how to get down the ladder from the loft  (how do I mount it under the slant of roof? Do I turn around and climb it back down or just walk straight forward like I’m going down stairs?). I lit a candle. Then I blew it out when we left to get gas, but only $15 worth because we’re almost out of money until Tuesday so we didn’t reset the mileage on the odometer because our fuel gauge is broken/stuck on full.

*****

Things didn’t go exactly as planned, meaning I didn’t have time to plan to make things perfectly prepared.

Want to read more about Day One at The Cabin? I’m hiding the minute details after a break so as not to bore or overwhelm folks who don’t want to read about my zero word count day:

Read the rest of this entry »

Have you noticed us getting up earlier and going to sleep sooner on our cams? That’s (partly) because starting September 3rd I’m going to get up early to head over to the cabin we’re (good news!) officially renting to do off-cam no-internet work sans distractions. Normally I quickly grow disgusted with a morning-person routine, but now it seems totally different knowing there’s a purpose to it.

It rained heavily on Thursday. If I hadn’t gotten up at seven in the morning, excited about the possibilities of such early rising once the cabin time begins, I’d have never known there was any blue sky to be had that day. I’d have missed seeing this moon:

Blessing Bestowed from the West

There’s a place – a real live place – where women artists can apply for residencies. Actually, there are lots of places like that, where those kinds of people can get free lodging in inspiring locations to focus on their work, but the one I’m thinking of is SUPER DREAMY . . . fucking storybook-land perfection in terms of its tiny private artfully-crafted houses (each resident has one all to herself) and woodland setting.

Most shockingly dreamy of all is the way the women are catered to; the small handful of residents (women, all of them!) have a chef who prepares crazily wonderful dinners for them every night. There are pictures proving how thoroughly stocked the kitchen is with racks of zillions of containers of spices and rows of carefully labeled provisions and specialized pots and pans used to make what appears to be an ABUNDANCE of food every night just for these six or seven women. Meats and comforts and fresh green things and berries and sauces and fanciness and desserts and lots of colors and textures on big plates and side dishes.

On top of all that, the chef ALSO prepares individual baskets for each resident full of her favorite foods to help sustain her throughout the day while she works in her perfect little house. And there’s a garden full of plants someone else tends that each resident gets to pluck and cut flowers and leafy things from. FOR INSPIRATION AND SHIT!

I know that being there wouldn’t be actual utopia, but it does provide a model to ooh and aah over. I think it’s awesome that a very teeny-tiny percentage (wish it were more) of talented women in the world get to experience opportunities like that, to be told that their own self-directed art is so valuable as to warrant a few days . . . maybe even a whole month(!) . . . of concentrating on nothing BUT the work she most wants to do and that she will be sheltered and reliably fed to delicious excess if she likes so she can take care of her work while someone else takes care of her basic needs with sensual generosity.

Same time as picture above, but looking 80 degrees to the south.

What an exquisite fantasy! But it seems so decadent, like I know that I personally could never warrant such treatment. It’s a nice daydream but it actually makes me nervous to think about having such a giant privilege bestowed upon me. I’m nervous enough about the idea of renting this cabin, feeling like I need to prove that I “deserve” it. That I’m worth blowing more money on when I already have so much.

And then I remember that my grandma made my grandpa dinner every night to his specifications. Dished it up and brought it out to him. It wasn’t fancy, but she SERVED him. And every day she fixed him a box lunch even on the days when he was only working in his garage out back, a one minute shuffle away from the back door. I know times have changed, but when I was growing up I never fucking once saw a man prepare and serve a grown woman food. NEVER ONCE outside of restaurants (which I rarely saw) and pancake breakfasts at the Masonic Lodge where it was a wonderful novelty to see the men with aprons on, coming out to the long tables to pour coffee and bring us our hotcakes.

It wasn’t just my family that was like that. Most people my age and older grew up seeing men (and children) waited on at home and women NOT.  I suppose gender-blind egalitarianism is the ideal I should desire (and I do in some ways) but part of me needs to experience the balance of intimate privilege tipped dramatically towards women to undo what I learned by watching. I wasn’t brought up to BE that kind of woman who waits on men — not at all; I wasn’t taught with words to do it  — but that’s what all the women in my family DID to one extent or another and the men DID NOT. You have to be crazy to think that kind of learning is something you can just erase with your intellect when you grow up or even along the way with words of “you-go-girl” encouragement.

Looks promising upwards and eastwards

Even though I never grew up wanting to be a woman who takes care of a man, once I outgrew the entitlement of childhood I came to FEEL that having someone take care of me wasn’t something I deserved or could expect the way a man in my grandparents’ and parents’ generations could and that the only way to live my life just-so, to my specifications, was to live alone. I didn’t think this on a conscious level, but I think the past ten years (and then some) of webwhoring have involved more conscious efforts to recognize and reconcile this conflict; I want to work — to do MY work and do it MY WAY — and have someone else take care of the housekeeping and cooking. For my work to be the most important thing I do and everything else to be relegated to the distraction pile which I should be able to demand someone else pick up and put away. To believe that my work is so important that I should be angry and frustrated when I do not have the tools or environment to do it properly. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT MEN OLDER THAN I AM GREW UP EXPECTING AND DOING. And so what if their work wasn’t important or they would bankrupt the family with their business schemes? You didn’t fucking criticize the work, jobs or dreams of men. You just didn’t unless you wanted to be the evil villainous bitch in the story.

I shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to have as many places to do my work alone as my grandpa did: a garage, a basement, a toolshed, a closet where he kept his Black Velvet and other private treasures, and a windowless office he hardly went into that nobody else was allowed into that was always at least 15 degrees cooler than the rest of the house. My grandma didn’t have any place in her house that was her own like that, just like my mom didn’t have a special place in our tiny house for herself like my stepdad had a whole room for his model train. And if Grandma fucked up some shit in the kitchen Grandpa would go ballistic on her ass. So I guess maybe I SHOULD feel guilty about wanting all that man-privilege since being an abusive asshole came with the territory. I don’t know. But on Friday morning I’m going to work alone in the cabin AND I CAN HARDLY WAIT!!

Also? I’ve drafted a new personal ad for a slavey-houseboy type. Not putting it up for awhile though as that’s a whole time-consuming process in itself. I also keep wanting to blog more about how going to college totally distorted my idea of money and assessing the worth of an investment in myself, perhaps making me approach financial risk-taking in a more “manly” way than I would have otherwise.

More morning moon pics to come?

*****

So. I don’t anticipate members and fans seeing a noticeable change in focus on our sites because of this and will probably see more exciting stuff on cam rather than less since we have to cam more to pay for everything. One of the good things (in terms of “earning” my cabin keep) is it’s already making me more disciplined and focused in how I prioritize things, clarifying what needs to come first (which is really REALLY challenging when you have boatloads of everything to do and have an easily-overwhelmed mind like mine). Right now at the top of the list is simply getting ahead on shooting and getting updates lined up, so that’s what I’m going to get back to work on right now.

Over the weekend (on May Day) the members area of my site (TastyTrixie.com/members) turned eight years old!

Here are some pictures from this year’s and last year’s May Day galleries:

Wearing a white corset outside: May Day 2010

I *loved* these pictures last year; they made me fall in love with myself (an important state of mind to be in for a webwhore):

It's like magic! And cleavage! And whirling!

My freckled shoulders, curly hair and big natural boobies!

This year’s set wasn’t so good, but it was all worth it to get charming shots like this favorite of mine:

Spreading May Day cheer!

So after eight years you might wonder how the indie porn site business is holding up, and the answer is NOT SO GREAT! I’m still optimistic though because there are so many things I know I could do (or do better or do more often) to boost business.

The only “problem” is I’m becoming more realistic after all these years and recognize I can’t do it all and maybe it’s not really possible for us to do more! better! and more often! It even got to the point where I seriously considered focusing solely on promoting and shooting for DeliaTS.com and putting updates and promotion for all of our other sites, including TastyTrixie.com, on hiatus. We are trying to do the jobs of too many people.

The past few weeks I’ve shifted my approach to work a little bit by

1) using to-do list software (both Swift To-Do List and Daily To-Do List). It’s helping me prioritize and sort my ideas and tasks.

2) making a 40 hour work week a goal / forcing ourselves to take days off like normal people expect to do with good jobs.

I use a timer with a stopwatch to keep track of when I’m working. In the notes section of Daily To-Do List I keep track of the hours I’ve worked and what I’ve accomplished. Yes, it’s very wage-slavey, but it’s more manageable (and more rewarding) than feeling like WORK IS NEVER EVER DONE! BITCH, KEEP WORKING KEEP WORKING TEN TWELVE FOURTEEN HOURS A DAY YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T REST BECAUSE THERE’S JUST SO MUCH!!!

I am beginning to accept that if we can’t succeed by working a humane number of hours and allowing ourselves time OFF that IT ISN’T WORTH IT.

And that’s where the fear/knowledge comes in that I am going to have to give up doing some things I’m very attached to because it isn’t realistic to think I can do them all. Spiritually (? or emotionally or psychologically or whatever word you’re comfortable with) this is an important confrontation to have with myself and reality. I suspect there might be a life of bliss (with lots of time spent checking out books at the library and reading in the grass) awaiting me on the other side of this confrontation but I’m still balking at it and refusing to let go.

I wonder if it’s normal to take a decade to resolve this conflict between what you WANT to do and what you CAN do and still be healthy. Ten years sounds like a long time, but I think it might be about right. I figure I still have two or three years before life finally batters me into submission so for now my site is not on hiatus. Who knows? Maybe my timer-and-to-do-list-software scheme will actually make me more productive because I’m not so psyched out and overwhelmed trying to do everything all the time.

One thing I did let go of is driving myself crazy trying to be RELIABLE at posting a new picture gallery or porno video every week in my members-only area. Instead I’m focusing on posting more frequently (multiple times a week) in my new members-only blog with more uniquely personal and candid stuff like vlogs, webcam snaps, behind the scenes stuff, fantasies and other intimate thoughts I don’t want to post in the open here in my free blog, etc. Things got interrupted a bit with the dog dying and some other stuff we have going on (that I may or may not blog about here, but you can hear all about in my vlogs) but after a couple of months of doing things this way I believe it will take off and be more addictive/unique for members.

Obviously I will still do the regular porn stuff of high res photo galleries and videos but I am releasing myself from the pressure of thinking “reliable” is more important than “personal”. Because in the long run I’ve NEVER read a testimonial like, “I’m very aroused by the way Trixie is so RELIABLE.” I have, however, been told a number of times that people would maintain their membership even if all they got was the blog (and/or the spycams).

I pretty much think my “porn” is virtually worthless without the personality, especially with so much competition online, so that is what I’m going to make top priority on my site and the feeling of it being alive with more frequency and easily-digested candid content (albeit with *possibly* a *little* less standard porn site fare POSSIBLY . . . we’ll see how it plays out — I think it will wind up being the same quantity in that department once I get on a roll). The people who love me and my site tend to gravitate towards the bloggier, vloggier, twittier, webcammier, embarrassing confessions, taboo weirdness and daily details stuff (along with panties panties UPSKIRTS and panties!).

Over the years it’s started to feel like I had to make porn to meet porn industry standards — to be digestible in a standardized (though less consistently hardcore) way — so that porn site reviewers and other people promoting our sites would be able to sell my site. It has gotten to the point where we shoot HUGE galleries of a zillion photos less because we think that’s what our members want or because it’s more valuable that way, but because we need to have more promo material and because that’s how people assess the value of porn sites: how many pics are in your galleries? How HUGE are the pictures? How many formats do your videos come in? How often do you add another HUGE photo gallery? It’s pretty fucking boring and totally ignores the CONTENT of the content. And what is the point anyway when all of those things are the easiest to steal? I want to focus on the stuff people can’t steal or is less desirable to the people who steal content. I’m sick of feeling like we’re shooting things to make webmasters happy instead of ourselves and our members who really dig us (fortunately there are some webmasters who dig me/get me as is).

Sometimes I look at the stuff I did back in 2001 when I didn’t have a clue what a porn website was “supposed” to look like or offer, and I miss it/love it/want to do it that way again (but better and less stupid in some aspects). I can’t find the earlier version of this that talked about wanting my site to be like the magazines you’d stuff under your mattress, but I want to get back to that. Here’s one old version though (which of course I would change in some ways, but want to revive the spirit of in other ways):

One of my first attempts at a members-only area

I do not, however, want to repeat some of my earlier horrifying uber-cheesy design mistakes like this one from 2001:

I was *so* proud of my red licorice design!

What can I say? It was the turn of the century! And they didn’t even let our screen names be long enough for me to spell my name correctly! Aahh, those were the days . . . and all these years later the porn industry STILL doesn’t “get” camgirls which is how they’ve managed to destroy that platform for us as a way of making really good money and connections. Yeah, I’m getting off track and onto that bitter old webwhore lament . . .

Anyway, the point is that I want to pull some of the purity of my old personality porn into 2010 and approach working in a realistic way that’s personally rewarding. I’m not sure if it’s possible, though, considering how much time I have to sink into promotion and the technical aspects of maintaining our sites and cams, etc. Just as one three example(s): there is nothing pornographically fun or personally rewarding about spending hours dealing with Blogger pulling the rug out from under those of us who FTP our blogs or with searching high and low for my router password so I can modify all of the settings because our cable company decided to fuck with my IP address AGAIN or with getting set up with additional payment processors because one of them is scrubbing so hard you think they’re trying to erase you from their roster of clients. There’s precious little time left over after those kinds of bullshit that I am TOTALLY FUCKING SICK OF. It’s not all sex and games and horny-girl-diary-entries here, it’s a lot of technical minutiae.

I think I blew all of my really-hard-working years (nonstop, no personal time except for ramen and sleep) working for other people and on not knowing what I was doing. I’m almost forty and I’m done with that.

Note: I have a feeling this post might be stupid, but part of being realistic is hitting “publish” without trying to make every fucking thing perfect. Thanks for understanding and putting up with years of me wrestling with these same challenges of self-employment as an internet sex worker and webmaster.

An affirming read (one of many lately) on recognizing that trying to do it all is TOO MUCH, and making a goal of doing less:

. . . they have decided to not work at the limit of their ability. they are not interested in finding the line that is their maximum output except to be sure that they are much below it. they have decided not to do everything that they could.

“and so” she said “we’re going to see what comes out of the space we’re allowing for”.

this has sat well with me. it is a breath before i eat. it is the light splayed across my wood walls in the morning. it is not trying to do everything i can. even though i’m excited by all the permutations, it’s about looking inside myself to decide the next movement rather than thinking about every possible way i could do everything all the time.

i think i have probably let people down. i still struggle with guilt. i freak out and bolt for maximization at least once a day.

but i’m trying to give my life wiggle room. just barely.

Last night we stayed up until four watched the last four available episodes of Mad Men and today I am reading for pleasure and having my period and thinking inspired thoughts about videos I could make but probably won’t. My hands smell like sweet and salty foods and stiff girly hair products and thick royal jelly eye cream. This feels a lot better than a week ago when I was wound up (again) thinking I had to do everything and all of it had to be perfect.

Every so often (but not today) I get a whiff of a cosmetic scent that reminds me of some little-girl-science-meets-makeup product where you “mixed” your own lip gloss, creme blush, etc. with tiny white spatulas. It reminds me of how exciting it was to go to World of Toys in Bellevue (where rich people lived!) in the seventies and how much crap Daddy compulsively bought us.

I simultaneously long for my childhood sense of entitlement when it came to pressuring him to buy us stuff and am HORRIFIED by the memory of it. It was pretty cool to actually believe that I could have anything I wanted as long as I could convince him to buy it for me and that everything else could be checked out at the library. I’ll bet if I could put my finger on the smell of that toy-makeup stuff or just remember the name of it I might be one step closer to dominating the world, or at least feeling like all of my time belongs entirely to my own pleasure.

Sooner or later I am going to have to detach from the things I want to do a lot, but less than the things I want to do most and am made to be better at than the rest of it. Sooner or later I’m going to have to recognize the futility of guilt. But today I am still just pretending I don’t feel like a failure because I’m enjoying myself.

Tomorrow I should go on a walk by myself and take pictures of apple blossoms on old trees planted by the wives of dead soldiers.

I wanted to get an update (a boobs ‘n masturbation video) posted for members much sooner than tomorrow, but tomorrow it will have to be (along with Delia’s update, a very hot foresty photo set which I still need to edit since she’s in LA).

The reason my videos won’t be ready TONIGHT is that my day was totally interrupted by a couple of PROBLEMS. A fairly large problem with someone being a total shithead to me on the phone and threatening to remove our access to our favorite spycam site that we’ve been broadcasting on since 2002. It could be counterproductive for me to go into the details, but I hope he doesn’t fuck us and our members that way.

My heart was already pounding away even before that extended drama because the pit bull returned and was roaming around in our yard again. Fortunately it was totally chill with our (old, tired, tied-up) dog for the short amount of time they were sniffing each other before I got the owner to come get it, but in the space before that (seeing it first in the neighbor’s yard wondering if it was safe for me to go get the mail and let out our dog, etc.). Then I felt bad for being so fearful even though we have good cause after our first run-in with the dog.

Anyway, the situation with our spycams has been stressful and time-consuming today. I’m glad I started the day out right with some exercise and also some good news that our payment processor semi-fixed a big mistake they made which has been making it difficult to promote our sites the past couple of months. Still, I feel extra guilty now for not getting more work done earlier this week (which is stupid because I was totally sleep deprived and then my sister was here with her beautiful darling wonderful energy-requiring children and then I did REALLY need a day to catch up on sleep and silence and staring into space).

Someday someday SOMEDAY I’ll have a week to just blog. In more interesting ways. Someday, right? I thought this would be a week of either massive productivity or lots of book reading, exercise, and phone sex but it just hasn’t worked out that way. Instead it’s been a week of other mostly-good things (and TOO-good things, like ice cream, garlic prawn rolls, pan au chocolat, potato salad, pasta, and wonderfully stupid movies like Mall Cop and Interview with the Vampire).

Anyway, I’m sorry for not posting new porn for members yet this week and I hope our main spycams are still up tomorrow!

While walking, December 23rd, 2009

We walked downtown to our favorite sandwich and coffee joint. Delia finished her lunch and groaned about how over-full she was.

“Foundered?” I asked her.

“What?”

“Are you foundered?”

“Founded? Floundered? WHAT?”

“No, FOUNDERED! Are you FOUNDERED!”

She looked even more confused when she answered, “no . . . I’m totally LOSTered”.

*****

We’ve been together more than seven years. Over this most recent one, her body has become new to her and to us. There are so many things you can’t see or feel by looking at pictures. Changes only I’m privy to.  When I place my hand over hers, it’s so soft. Her arms are so soft.  Her mouth is so yielding. Her face is so soft and looks so different to me. In ways you might not notice if you haven’t been lying in bed with her every night for seven years. Luminous, radiant, serene . . . heart-meltingly beautiful.

She reminds me of divinity. White whipped waves of sweet solid froth that looks substantial until you hold it in your mouth and it’s a mass of a million tiny soft pockets of air you absorb so fast. You’re eating sweet air given just enough of a slight temporary body to inform you you’re privileged to devour the form of an angel. Her tongue is like that. The way you melt into your girlfriend’s body. The way you melt into togetherness and your mouth is full of nothing but sweet. The edges are just a frame for softness. I like to hold her in my mouth, close my eyes, and let her dissolve into my bloodstream.

There are recipes for this. Special chemistries that rely on the temperature and the weight and the wetness of the air plus a perfect balance of ingredients. It’s a very delicate process, and only certain ladies have the gift to create bodies of divinity. My girlfriend is one of them. It’s art, inheritance, science . . . and a gift gods only bestow on a few.

While she was cooking I kissed her on the ankle.

*****

We saw Santa on a motorcycle at a stoplight. I whooped and he waved. We waved.

A few blocks later we passed a playground with a dozen kids telling us, telling each other, telling their parents, telling everyone:

THE REAL SANTA!! I saw the real Santa! The REAL Santa on a motorcycle!! I saw him! It was the real Santa! Did you see Santa? I SAW SANTA!

They celebrated with shock and awe and hysterical thanksgiving this fleeting glimpse of a man in a red suit riding by on a black and chrome motorcycle.  THE REAL SANTA!! Little evangelical Santa believers, riled up with faith revived.

It was fucking beautiful.

*****

On Christmas Eve we had pizza slices for a big snack. I couldn’t stop kissing her mouth, our lips slick with orange-colored oil. Looking at her mouth and wanting to press my smile into hers. I took a picture of her and sent it when a song came on the radio. I asked her and all of the pizza boys how to spell Skynyrd. Nobody knew for sure but it was a good conversation. Hot open ovens in front of us, cold open door at our backs. Two women kissing each other and three young men spelling S-K-I-N-Y-R-D . . . no, S-K-Y-N-I-R-D . . . wait a second . . . S-K-Y-N-A-R-D.

Pizza time with Delia on Christmas Eve

*****

This is our seventh Christmas together. About six months ago I developed a new fear when I recognized that I wouldn’t know how to live without her. That I’ve forgotten how. Sometimes when I put my hand over her soft hand my chin starts to wobble because of how much that idea scares me.

Our Seventh Christmas Eve Together

We went to Seattle on Tuesday for Delia to do a shoot for Shemale Strokers; it’s extremely rare for either of us to shoot for other people so that was a good experience to get us out of our bubble. It looks like next time we’ll shoot something as a couple for SuckMyTrannyCock and I’ll do a solo blowjob and cum-on-the-boobs thing for another site. I can’t remember the last time I had anyone’s cum on me besides Delia’s.

Are we going to start shooting a whole bunch of hardcore for other sites to make quick money? No. There aren’t many people to shoot for in the area and it’s not exactly the direction we want to go anyway for a number of different reasons. On the other hand, if we had more time for traveling and to pornify ourselves with lots of trips to the gym and enough people to work with that we felt comfortable with (for example, people who shoot with condoms) it would be a nice adventure to do that for a few months and get more exposure for ourselves (leading to more exposure for our sites). At the moment, that’s not the plan, though. Maybe in the next couple of years before we totally enter granny status in the porn world.

Part of me is happy to have not had a typical porn industry experience so far, but another part of me feels like we’d be missing out to not experience more of it. The whole testing vs. condoms is a whole other ball of wax, too. While I know most of the diseases that are passed around in porn aren’t the end of the world I’m pretty fucking happy to have made it to this point in my life without herpes, for example, and I’d like to keep it that way. Allow me to clarify: no one is banging down our doors to shoot hardcore, I’m just speaking hypothetically here. Also, I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have sex with someone who has herpes (I *have*) or that I think condoms should be mandatory in porn (I don’t), I’m just saying that my comfort level and goals aren’t conducive to jumping into a hardcore porn fuckfest any time soon. I think we both have too many boundaries and limits to get much work on top of me not being in my prime.

*****

We decided to get a room that night instead of driving all the way back home; one of the bridges we have to cross is having problems and closes for tests every day and all night, plus we haven’t had a night to ourselves off cam in a billion years so we even boarded our dog. It was bliss, and we really should get away for quiet private time on a regular basis AWAY from home; I love working at home for ourselves, but I totally miss the feeling of LEAVING work behind to drive home. We don’t have that and it gets really heavy to never really escape.

We even went to see a movie! Yes, we actually saw A Christmas Carol. I enjoyed it and am glad we saw it on the big screen. Jim Carrey channeled a WEE bit too much of Mr. Burns, but he’s my favorite so that’s fine.

*****

This weekend and the rest of the month we’re trying to shoot as much as we can for our sites here at home. We also got some stressful but potentially good news about our favorite spycam site to broadcast on which alleviates some of the nagging worries we’ve had over the years but means we have to invest some time and money that we really don’t have into it.

I know it’s all going to work out, though.

How?

I’m not exactly sure. I don’t need to know everything about tomorrow, today.

*****

I wanted to post a members-only update last night but it’s getting pressed out later and later because the things I keep getting ready to post have to be postponed for one reason or another, namely because I don’t have time to finish them properly. It may turn out that I wind up editing and posting something we’re shooting tonight or tomorrow.