A Winter Solstice Adventure
I find myself no longer in the habit of checking weather ahead of time; so, it was a total surprise to me to wake up and see the snow on the ground this morning. First snowfall that stuck, and I thought to myself, “I guess Winter is here now.”
As I’m leaving Grand Central Station a few hours later, in the back of a NYC taxicab, I see it is indeed ‘the first day of winter’ as local news on ‘cab-TV’ is being cute about it.
Double surprise, as I had forgotten this point of time as well.
I think it was all the extended months of following news, and the campaign trail so closely, that is why now I have no interest keeping up with time, at the moment. Twitter is my only social media weakness when office work is dragging on.
Sidenote: Musk masks p0rn on Twitter now to pretend it doesn’t exist, so you have to be logged in, via app, when you surf the good stuff or it’s all “broken links,” or tweets that don’t exist. The shadow ban is next level.
The free p0rn on Twitter keeps the news feed less intense, and the workdays interesting. It’s mostly innocent/boring clips anyway that I scroll past, and don’t even watch. It’s all muted anyway.
I use Reddit at night when I’m surfing the shameful hardcore clips. It’s more so about living vicariously thou, instead of touching myself.
but that’s a story for another time.
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Christmas this year is extra special with moving, new jobs, and abundant blessings, despite being alone.
Mark my words, I will be on a tropical vacation next year, between Christmas and New Year’s. I need a real OnlyFans in 2025 to make it happen.
It’s felt like Christmas since the November 6th victory, and less risk for sudden worldwide war escalations.
Bittersweet when 2024 politics exposed half of Hollywood, thou.
2024 actually taught me that: I think I hate Hollywood.
Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande I’ll always remember as the budding, fresh, superstars they were 10 years ago with incredible talent. It’s a damn shame talent now means absolutely nothing.
Influencing young fans, like my lost little sister, in all the wrong ways.
I am annoyed when their music once spoke to me so deeply. Billie Eilish, and Eminem just to name a couple more disrespectful artists that should just mind their business.
Selling their souls for a paycheck. I can’t relate.
On the sweeter side of things, Trump stock market is back up, as I spy on alerts from The Best Stock Updates | Stock Alerts.
“Scared money don’t make money,” is a phrase that haunts me as I peep “pump and dump” penny stocks a few times a day Monday-Friday, and regret the ones, by the end of the workday, that I didn’t jump into via RobinHood app.
“I’m giving myself till the New Year to get brave“, I tell myself.
NYC on the first day of winter, a few days before Christmas, was accidentally brave. Thou I cheated with two cabs, and no street crowd navigating. I’ve only ventured into the city a handful of times in my 20s, and I disliked it every time. Nothing to be excited about, alone.
This early morning was no different, so I thought, as I cleared off my car with a Moe’s napkin.
I break my cheap ice/snow brushes every year by the end of the season, and I never invest in another one until after the first storm of the year. I still have a couple of weeks to get one, thou planning ahead would be more mature.
Winter Solstice city mission today is a hair trim in downtown Manhattan. I was last here February 2023.
An appointment to see a top-rated, celebrity, male stylist to cut my hair the way I want. Just bangs, nothing crazy off the ends. Super grateful for the gifted opportunity, as haircuts local to me, with women, have traumatized me.
I can color my own hair just fine but cutting it -not so much.
C.J. texts me right before I get on the late morning train, and I almost think I’m hallucinating.
I’ve tried cutting my bangs in hotel bathrooms, while watching YouTube tutorials right before seeing him, so the timing of this text feels like a positive affirmation that all will go well.
I’m not one for public sexual thoughts, but butterflies were running wild during the next hour on the train.
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Bing. Bang. Boom.
Everything at the salon goes well indeed, and it’s an indication that 2025 is to be glorious.
A mini digital poster board advertisement caught my eye, next to the ticket counter, for a one-way ticket back home:
This particularly gave me extra to think about on the train ride home, as the long year comes to an end. This time I was holding back tears, instead of melting with excitement.
For those of you who know me, I stopped streaming on Chaturbate this summer, and fall, for the most part. I abandoned the OnlyFans potential, and got really close to deleting everything because of how I struggle with desire as a solo girlie.
The girls that thrive in this industry enjoy what they do, or at very least they enjoy feeling good.
Unrequited love occupies my heart, and I struggle to push past that anytime my pussy wakes up a little bit.
“Let him find honey,” thou, the prayer/poem says.
…There’s a popular couple on Chaturbate that stream regularly. Very “honey” coded. I don’t follow them for grief’s sake, but when they are on the front page of Chaturbate I’m always curious enough to click.
I get 45-60 seconds, on average, of watching “KeutyPie” cater to the dom/sub community. They offer rougher dirty talk, and light face slapping. There’s a clear tenderness, and chemistry that comes from their connection.
Then I log off.
The thought of “It should be me,” instantly aches my chest cavity.
Another couple on Chaturbate, but where the male stays faceless is “Olive You.”
I follow them because husband’s voice reminds me of C.J, and being on the milder side of sex, I can tolerate watching their blowjob ‘teasing’, without feeling needy.
His cock isn’t as big as C.J, but I watched them break 10K follows in the summer. 6 months later now: they are at 60K.
I like to admire/tip them for their efforts, time to time, when they are online… but I only watch the banter and log off before the actual sex.
Olive’s partner runs the tech side of the stream, and their lights/camera/audio is perfection. I like to show my appreciation for just that, before signing off.
Just another tech savvy man with a nice cock, who found his best submissive partner, contributing to “healthy p0rn.” Lucky them.
2025; I deserve happy streaming with real cock too. Change my username to ‘Lucky Mae’ perhaps, if my dreams do ever come true.
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The haircut in the city this morning was my way of taking back some power. To own my looks in a way that I like best, vs. what others may want to see online.
To get back to YouTube singing, in my new apartment space is my current deepest desire. I knew the minute I toured this apartment flat, that the new privacy was perfect.
I theorize it will lighten my chest pain that has been relapsed since sobbing all-day on my birthday a couple of weeks ago.
To perhaps get a start on PPV content, with the new hair, is second priority. Something I’ve never done before with realistic dildos. I’ve only been most comfortable livestreaming with Lovense vibrators.
I’ve watched a bit of free Roku TV during the moving stress, it started as an accident while just looking to leave TV on for the cats while I’m gone on office days. I discovered Fran Drescher in her prime.
Her 90s sitcom, “The Nanny,” inspired me to order a maid outfit. Holiday “maid service” feels like a good place to start for an end of the year video.
However, I got my period immediately coming home from city stress. Very lucky it wasn’t mid-traveling.
Perhaps the week after New Year is better energy anyway for said first time recorded cocktoy ventures.
The surprise text from C.J. and my period hormones is always a fiery combination, as it sure gave me the adrenaline needed to navigate through a busy city train station on the week of Christmas. It was beyond exciting to finally have him break the silence.
Coming home however, I’d like to note, my train lost power.
Is this normal?
We came to a stop on the tracks, and the conductor came on thru the intercom saying, “they are investigating, and we will be back on track shortly.”
The full train was murmuring, as conductors outside were giving a show scratching their heads.
The lights on generator were starting to flicker, and we were now still for 10 minutes. Other trains were causing our carts to shake, going by at fast speeds, while we were motionless.
It took all the self-control in the world to not panic, while my imagination envisioned a train slamming into us, from behind. Accidents on camera happen through railroad crossings which prove that braking a high-speed train isn’t possible sometimes.
Would God be so cruel to allow that, as seeing C.J. soon is suddenly a possibility?
Am I to die tragically with good hair, right as I have an upcoming holiday break off-work, a Christmas bonus, good health, a luxury apartment, and real sex to look forward too??
Of course not.
The train picked up again, after another 5 minutes, and all was well, Thank God. I wouldn’t really mind thou, if that was my last time on a train.
I wanted to clap my hands as we got moving again, while now racing sunset. Like the way I feel is appropriate for airplanes landing after turbulence, but I guess that’s obnoxious. So, I’m told anyway?
Why is that frowned upon, thou?
I don’t take my life for granted.
“For Yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn 🎶 🎵”
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