The Precipitation of Disability

I love the rain; the pitter-patter sound of each droplet hitting my roof, the Earthy scent it brings, and the rain heavily reminds me of the light flooding in the Philippines which allowed me to play in the water during my childhood home life in the Philippines. Since disability though, the rain means inaccessibility. It means staying at home without food, at times, and ration. Sometimes, I sleep to avoid eating lunch. San Francisco is expecting light flooding today and if I needed food, I would need groceries delivered. I wish I had friends in the city (with cars) who will go grocery shopping for me. Mutual aid is still very hard to come by when other people in my life don't live in the city and, those who do live in the city are busy or can't afford the gas, etc. or I'm just bad at asking for help. The pattern trickles to depression and depression leading to unproductivity. I cannot afford to be unproductive right now. Since I quit my job, my SSI money is basically my tuition (I'm on a 15-month payment plan). To stress me out more, the module I'm currently on is all about the business side of sex coaching; taxes, budgeting, conscious spending, local laws, etc.

Adding to the stress, my family always talks about money. 3 of my immediate family members, my mother and 2 brothers (including the one that currently controls my financial life. My SSI money goes to HIS bank account), are accountants and in the Philippines, it is one of the hardest exams to be certified in public accountancy. They used to publicly publish the names of those who passed until there was an uptick in suicide rates for those who didn't pass. I truly believe if accounting wasn't this competitive, Filipinos would be known more for being accountants than nurses.

If you asked anyone how I was doing, on the outside, I am calm and contained; I haven't even cried because my antidepressants won't let me! Inside my head is a different story. It's starting to cause physiological problems now like insomnia, lethargy, and imposter syndrome. The last one being the hardest to overcome especially when I don't see a steady flow of income.

Going Out with a (C)literal Bang

2022 was a year. I don't remember most of it because not much has happened. Our maybe life has gotten too monotonous and my life is lacking spontaneity. Which is why I was particularly excited about New Year's Eve. 

I got to check something off my New Year's Eve bucket list when I lived through my professor fantasy at the Hilton in Union Square last night. I didn't necessarily "go out with a bang" because, unfortunately, I was forced to rearrange my room due to a leak (it had rained so much the the water managed to seep through my walls, damaging my Abby Road album)! Perfect timing, too, because my mini projector was finally here) . My spoonie-ass fell asleep at 11:30pm. I was sooooooo tired and I had 100 mg of THC in the form of a brownie and I was out!

Due to the cleaning and rearranging hours before my night with Daddy Dean Lawyer (I got there around 7 because he prepped the room for me ♡⁠). I was exhausted and didn't even make it to midnight. Silver linings do exist though because I found my gold ring that my family has given me shit for “slipping out of my skinny, chicken fingers!” They thought I was reckless because, 1) they think I don't care about the stuff they give me, and 2) they don't see the change in my lifestyle to live peacefully amongst this inaccessible country. 

----------TL;DR----------

I finally got to live my fantasy of staying at a fancy hotel with a Professor of a law, technically Dean (⁠✿⁠ ⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠). An escort, if you will. Go sub to my Onlyfans if you want to see what we were up to…

A Banana, Cucumber, and even a Curling Iron

A banana, cucumber, and even a curling iron (not plugged in)! What do they all have in common? They've all been inside me. It started with the banana. I would put condoms on them for literal protection and my high school boyfriend and I used to Skype. There was only one sex store within a 30-mile radius from the shitty, always-closed location. Even if there were more sex stores and boutiques near me at that time, I was still underaged! "Hey mommy, can you buy me something from the sex store?" My mother would've slapped the Catholic back into me. She would have locked me up, eat the key, shit the key out, and flush the toilet.

Personally, I don't mind buying my niece a sex toy if she asked. In fact, I would be thrilled; first, because she came to me for pleasure and two, she trusts me enough to ask. As soon as she turns 18, I'm taking her to Good Vibrations (if it interests her. I don't want to push my beliefs onto her just like what my family did to me with religion). She still prefers to not go to church and that's what I call "hope." 

A Reminder For This Season

I loathe this time of year, and it’s not because of seasonal affect disorder.

I'm allowing rest and release this holiday season. This time has always felt like the trauma Olympics. Unlike Christmases past which have been like literal fire on my skin. It's Christmas Eve in the Philippines right now and I am trying my hardest to stay safe. I plan on cleaning my room hardcore parkour today and intend on going to mass at 6pm just to sing Christmas music. /Singing brings me joy and if I have healed from my religious trauma. I identify as atheist/agnostic/Jesus was black and didn't do what these white Jesus followers want me to do. I plan on cleaning my plant area and invest in my space. I don't have friends who can take me in, which is why I crave a partner with an open family to do so. That's so sad to type out... But it's the truth! I want to be part of a “family” so bad. I only have my housemate, but we grow distant every year. I want to be a holiday nomad. Now that I'm a full-time sex coach, I hope I get the privilege to travel for the holidays. Just drop me off in an accessible town and leave me the fuck alone. Be kind to those who may have trauma around this time.

I Quit My Job

Please look at my Instagram post to catch yourself up!

So you're all caught up! Yeah, I quit because I have the privilege to and my day job was adding stress to my life. Indifferently, I will have to go back to sex work. This means I need to be more proactive with my Onlyfans... again. Additionally, my family thinks I'm being "lazy" for quitting my job. Why do I have to put up with a shitty job? Especially when I've worked so hard on this sex coach career path? I realized I can legitimately call myself a sex education! All these trainings and certifications and I'm still suffering with imposter syndrome. That stops now! I have my first 1-on-1 session today! YES! Our session doesn't start until 2pm (currently 10am) and I'm so excited. Not just to help, but getting paid to help! I’m researching and taking notes and I’m so excited; I already showered and applied my makeup and I’ll update y’all this Thursday, omitting my client’s identity. I will also ask if I can record it for my own critique.

A few updates: I'll do a blog/Insta posts Tues and Thurs. 

COVID Resurrection and my “Work”

I have a date with a hot dean of a law school on New Year's Eve and I swear to God! If I get COVID now, I will be so pissed! I have been double masking and have relatively stayed indoors for the last three years. I got a job as a paraprofessional at a high school and I have been seeing empty seats lately. Surprise surprise, COVID cases are rising again. Daddy Dean and I had previous plans, but he got infected with the once feared COVID; I didn't have NYE plans so why not end the year with a bang (literally), so we rescheduled to the night of Dec 31, 2022. He was originally going to take me to the Hilton in downtown SF and I would've fulfilled my fantasy of dressing slutty, putting on slutty make-up, and making love all night long. 

Sex workers are never included in sociopolitical conversations. We're seen as dirty, corrupt, and "no work ethic." Do you know how hard it is to be an independent sex worker? We have to account for safety, not only sexual health safety, but bad and misinformed clients. We also have to be our own accountants, scheduler, body guards, and researchers. Yes, researchers, because I don’t want my body to be found by some pretentious jogger with a quaint condo and stresses about the ethicality of eating a cow (I’m pescatarian, just to throw it out there). I deserve more respect than that. Don't get me wrong, I've had more respectful clients (some have stayed for years and never had penile-vaginal intercourse), but when I promote my sex work, I'm flooded with responses such as, "give me a preview," "how about a gift card," I don't have money," and of course, "I don't pay for sex." I usually block, but occasionally I rebel and inform them on sex work. Some of them absorb what I say and some don't. 

Regarding COVID, both my housemate and I are immunocompromised; they have severe asthma and I am a medical mystery (iykyk, if not, that's for another time). I'm so annoyed at this country; the neglect of individuals. I'd rather be in the Philippines if it weren't for the weather. Actually, no, I’d stay here. Though America is, well, Amerikkka, the socioeconomic status is better in Amerikkka. I almost threw up while thinking about typing this last sentence…

Ending Generational Trauma

I finally got to hang out with my 14-year-old niece who just came back from a trip to Europe; England and France. I enthusiastically asked if I could see pictures and I was happily surprised that she didn't take pictures! Before I continue, here's my relationship with her: she came to America with her two older brothers and mother. The mother is openly racist to bipoc communities so fuck her for that, but I do appreciate her stance on abortion because her oldest son got a girl pregnant and she paid for the abortion. Doesn't excuse her racism, but I'm very happy I didn't have to take care of another child. My niece is more of a daddy's girl, like her aunt (ME). My brother (her father) can be quite invasive, even making rape jokes in front of his young, strong daughter and sister (again, ME). He even kicked me out while I was temporarily staying with them for simply defending my stance about how he treats his family. He's also a recovering gambler.

The fact that I openly and freely discussed the trauma of our families is so important! She knows I'm atheist, but I admit it is difficult for me to accept the fact that she does believe in Jesus and God. Although, she knows that Jesus wasn't white. I'm simply so proud of, not only her, but me! I can die happy knowing that I've ended generational trauma in my very Catholic family.