Tuesday, July 21, 2026
I didn’t dream at all today. In fact, I’m having dreams less and less often. I suppose I’ve experienced everything there is to experience, and my soul is shifting to another dimension :)
It’s a paradox, really—I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad that I can’t make up for all the pleasant things I missed out on during the day while I sleep at night.
On the other hand, when I *do* dream, I experience them with such intensity—I’ve even ended up needing a night guard (for those familiar with the issue). I’m slowly starting to believe that dreams, much like our reality and circumstances, are creations of our imagination—manifestations of our desires or fears.
I used to laugh at my father when he’d say—ever since I was a child—that it’s all in the mind; no matter how hard I tried, I never could—and still can’t—simply switch off my emotions. I had no choice but to embrace them. Today, I believe in the power of the mind, though it doesn’t always align with hormones, enzymes, trauma, and genetic code—which is why pharmacies exist... But that’s not what I wanted to talk about...
I spent a long time working on the computer yesterday. It might sound funny, but I’m teaching myself IT. Yes, determination is what counts—not just attending university. I work alone, and even with good organization (which I’m constantly improving ;P), it’s easy to make a mistake.
When I went to bed, I was certain I had everything buttoned up—even through the end of the week. Schedule, yoga, clothes laid out, emails handled, and—would you believe it—even my skateboarding socks were ready :). I didn't rush at all this morning. Coffee at a snail's pace, exchanging messages with a few "Angels" (that’s what I call the clients who’ve become my friends).
By the way, "my Polish sausage"—bananas are drying for you, and just know that the longer the drying process takes, the more I love you. As for me, I’m a *pieróg*—you know why :D.
I rarely work in Oak Brook. It’s closer for me to get there from the South Side than to O'Hare, but every time I go to Oak Brook, something goes off-script. No! It’s not a matter of attitude. I really like the Hilton in that town because it’s clean and they don’t use that purple cleaning fluid I’m allergic to.
Today, I was sure everything would go smoothly; I even grabbed a bite to eat on my way out.
I walk into the hotel with a million-dollar smile—bag and pouch on my right arm, a bag of *faworki* (angel wing pastries) for my new client in my left hand. I pull out my wallet, hand over my ID, ask the lovely lady how her day is going, and request to check in. The reply? My reservation isn't there... (WTF).
I drop the bags on the floor; my heart starts racing. I’m about to prove to her that I *do* have a room here, because I double-checked everything yesterday! I open the email and read it—the reservation is for July 28th, a whole week away!!!!! I couldn't believe it; I had checked twice specifically to avoid making the same mistake I’d made before—the exact same mistake at the exact same hotel. I hear there are no rooms available for tonight—talk about a trick I played on myself... In moments like these, I try to pull myself together mentally and believe that the divine hand of the Universe has protected me from something unpleasant. So-called acceptance :) It beats gnashing your teeth. Well... I made an apologetic phone call and sent a few messages. All in all, since no one turned out to be disappointed, I even managed a smile—after all, I still have some fine-tuning to do to reach peak organization while working solo. As my very elegant "big friend" sometimes says: "Life is good."
I think I’m rambling...
I described these trials and tribulations because I wanted to show the logistical side of escort work—since the sex is really just the dessert. To those who get disgusted—to the point where their sticky brains can barely handle it—just because I don’t reply instantly: let me just add that, after having to replace a fender recently, I try not to use two phones while driving.
Moving on to more interesting topics, I have to brag that today I received a series of links to BDSM and hardcore porn from my new friend, an "Englishman." I can’t wait to watch them tonight; I’m curious if they’ll turn me on, because aside from lesbian porn, the rest usually bores me or makes me laugh—it all looks so fake. That "Englishman" and I had an interesting first session. He’s quite a colorful character, even though the color I associate with him is black. A giver and receiver of pain. I’m usually the receiver—because, despite my small stature, I have an oversized heart and an excess of empathy—but the job has also made me a pretty good giver. No, I don’t like inflicting pain, but it turns me on when *they* get turned on by that sensation of pain and burning—that feeling that shifts into relief and ecstasy. Weird?
I don't think so. In my opinion, everyone likes to feel very big or very small sometimes; it’s all about balance. Once we have everything we need in life to feel secure, we start looking for new experiences through every kind of stimulus.
It’s a bit like closing your eyes to see with your heart, really. Personally, I wonder if there’s a kind of pain that could break me emotionally. I think that at a certain point, when we experience pain, it becomes unbearable and we simply stop feeling it. It’s wonderful that my website is finally up and running, allowing me to combine business with pleasure. It’s also wonderful that I can finally show off my hard nipples on my "teenage-sized" boobs. And finally, it’s wonderful to be able to pour all this out onto the keyboard without feeling lonely. I hope intelligent souls can read between the lines and find something deeper—even something inspiring—amidst my silly ramblings.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the balcony. Instead of music, I hear the hum of air conditioner fans. Zenek, my guardian cat, is lying by my feet, simply content. He’s a bit like a dog, though he’s definitely a cat :) There are still a full 40 minutes until 5 PM, so I have time to type this up and share it. I’ll do it as fast as I can—that’s what I’ve ordered my brain cells to do!—and then I’ll grab my skateboard and my Superstars to head to the skatepark, where I’ll meet the love of my life: my little 15-year-old daughter. I couldn't care less that I’m 37 and have scars on my knees.
Yesterday, I closed the chapter on growing up, and today, I step into adulthood. I’m on the fast track—but I finally have the time for this, and I’m sure I’ll soon reach the point where my body is currently at.
I love skateboarding and learning tricks. I love balancing and finding my equilibrium. It’s so good for the mind. And the body! Another friend of mine—the one with the most beautiful teeth I’ve ever seen—bought me a helmet after taking one look at my knees. Shout-out to you, you bald hottie!
The moral of the story is: if you’re going to steal, steal millions; if you’re going to love, love a prince; and if you’re going to fly, fly high!!!!!!
Maybe I’ll talk about sex tomorrow...
Sending peace and love!!!!!
