Going to a dark place…

Dear Diary,

I never intended to write about this in my Diary, but… a diary is all about expelling emotion and processing as you write/type, right? So I’m going to. This will be a bit of a deep post, so if you’re expecting this to be one of my usual goofy entries, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Mostly.

So.

Sometimes it’s easy to go to a dark place for me. Too easy. And sometimes, it seems like Life is hellbent determined to bring me there kicking and screaming, no matter how much I fight against it. This past week is a perfect example of that, as I was yanked from my happy place and slung into a deep state of depression, barely socializing online or in real life, struggling to keep myself productive even though all I wanted to do was stay in bed and waste away as I stared at the ceiling.

The reason? My mortality. I don’t know why, but out of nowhere, I became keenly aware of it, so much so that the thought of it gradually turned into an intense fear. I’m not one of those fake-ass people that say I don’t fear anything – I fear plenty – but the only thing that truly grabs me and clenches my heart is Death. I’ve lost so many loved ones, as I’m sure you all have, and the feeling of emptiness and longing for them still resides to this day. Time does lessen the pain, but the void never truly closes. And I’m not sure I want them to.

Anyway, there I was, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and bam – I became crippled by my fear. It was something I hadn’t ever experienced before, like Death itself was hovering right over me, preparing to reap my soul or something. I definitely couldn’t sleep, so I got up, walked around, snuck into my big brother’s room, and climbed into bed with him like I used to do when I was little. He never woke up. Even as I clung to him, he absent-mindedly slung his arm over me and held me… and gradually, my feelings calmed, and I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke, the feeling clung to me, as it continued to throughout the week. At times, it was intense, and I fought to work past it to Adult, but it was hard. I felt like I was one step away from spelunking into a dark part of my mind that I probably wouldn’t be able to escape, like a sort of poisonous mental quicksand, one that I had to keep wading through I get pulled under. So I moved as best as possible, trying to reach out and be social but falling flat every time. The only real socializing I did was on my Patreon and Subscribestar.adult, and of course with my baby squirrel, but even they were mostly in the dark about why I was being so reclusive. It wasn’t that I was trying to be enigmatic – I’d much rather discuss, evaluate, and repair – but I didn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was. It led to a deep disconnect with the world, one that was alien to me and difficult to navigate.

Life Burnout? I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was a bonafide motherfucker.

And then my baby squirrel came along and casually asked if I remembered the California Raisins.

I told her of course I did. Nerd.

She then went on and mused what would happen if they were still actively promoted – would they be something edgier, like RWA (Raisin’s With Attitude), or maybe drop a diss track on the sun or something? I laughed so hard I nearly died. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows just the right thing to say to yank me out of my shell, and for some reason (even after knowing this wench for almost 20 years!) I never see it coming. Nonsensical goofiness. I love it.

Writing-wise, I was bopping back and forth between Little Dead Girls and Erotic Urban Legends (Sisters), but I’ve discovered that I can’t focus on writing two stories at once. I begin mixing things up and focus on the wrong one while I write. So I decided to stick to finishing Sisters first since it’s a short story and Little Dead Girls is a novel. Even though Little Dead Girls was intended to be a short story originally… I’m verbose; what can I say?

That and I have an inordinate amount of fun writing.

Anyway, sorry this entry was all over the place, but it’s an accurate representation of my headspace at the moment, you know? Regardless, thanks for reading. It means a lot. 🥰

#Alexaliens

 

“Those we love don’t go away, they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near, still loved, still missed and very dear”

– Unknown

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Being passionate and how I just keep getting weirder…

Dear Diary,

Let me tell you about the struggles of my life, yo. Let’s start with the largest, most grandiose of my struggles: passion. I am a passionate person in almost everything, including writing, friends, lovers, and even addictions. Unfortunately, I can easily become consumed by any of them, so more often than not, I have a glorious burnout and force myself to pull away and recalibrate, lest I go mad. I am not writing hyperbole here. It’s happened before. Yes, I know, I am a weird cookie, but there is a reason my favorite meme is:

 

 

It’s accurate. Not only is it accurate, but I’ve actually sat in a sink and licked plates. 😄 And no, before you ask, I am not explaining why. Anyway, moving on… madness. And passion. I don’t have many unhealthy addictions, but the ones I do have are motherfuckers. My biggest, which used to be drinking, I quit cold turkey on April 18, 2021. I write that in a light vein, but the reality is it was no walk in the park. My drinking, which I had been doing fairly regularly since my teens, quickly got out of control. It used to be I would drink every once in a while, like maybe on special occasions, then it became on the weekends, then every other day or so. Towards the end, it was a daily ritual, and after a particularly nasty hangover one morning, I took a good, long look at myself and decided enough was enough. I haven’t looked back since.

I decided that if I could do that, I could do other things as well, things that would make me even healthier. So I started amping up my daily workouts, becoming meticulous with things like step goals and activity targets, watching my calories for the first time in my life, and recently, I hit a wall with one of my hardest obstacles yet: no sweets. Guys, this one is a bonafide motherfucker. I failed twice at this. This is my third attempt, and hopefully my final. I had no idea cutting out artificially processed sugars would make me this volatile, but boy. 😳 I think I’ve gotten over the worst of it, but even last night, a craving for sweets came out of nowhere that was so strong Anne had to placate me – me! – and tell me I was strong, I had this, and she wasn’t going to let me eat any junk food. She was practically petting me and scratching behind my ear. I nearly tore her head off. I tried to distract myself with my current writing project, Little Dead Girls, but I couldn’t get in the flow of the story. If that makes any sense. So I decided to harass a few Patreon and Subscribestar peeps, and after sulking for several hours, the intense urge finally passed. For a while there, it was insane.

I know one thing quitting sweets has definitely improved in my life: my energy. So much so that getting to sleep at night is proving to be a challenge because I seem to have this reservoir of vitality that constantly bubbles to the surface. I need to find a better way to deal with this. It occurred to me why this has been so difficult earlier today: I’ve been eating sweets my entire life. Of course it’s going to be hard! So, if any of you has quit sweets cold turkey and have any tips, please drop me a private message on one of my social media networks (or even email) and let me know how you did it. I need all the help I can get, yo. 😭

#Alexaliens

 

“You know you’re an alcoholic when you misplace things… like a decade.”

— Paul Williams

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Being salty with my baby squirrel

Dear Diary,

So I developed this habit recently that apparently unhinged my baby squirrel. It started by accident, and because around the people I hold dear, I’m goofy as all hell. I have this thing when it comes to her, see: my goal is to make her laugh at least once a day. Dead serious. I’ve been doing this forever, and it keeps my creative juices flowing and, you know, just makes things more fun in general. It definitely keeps things interesting, especially considering how we’re inside most of the day and together more often than not.

Anyway, she was in the restroom doing a number two, and I was bored as hell (this is usually the catalyst for so many bad decisions), and I decided it was my responsibility to entertain her. Now in the past, I’ve blasted the potty song, porn, and even an instructional video on how to collect semen from a stallion. Hell, one time, I even used my collapsible pointer stick to start swatting her feet, but this time I wanted to try something new.

I ended up sliding a pack of crackers (saltines) underneath the door, the joke being she was in there so long she had to be getting hungry, but before I could utter the words, she hit me with, “Bitch don’t be getting salty with me!”

I lost it. Completely. Since then, whenever I’m feeling ultra bougie, I’ll toss that same pack of crackers (which I keep on top of her fridge) at her and throw my hands up in the air. She yells at me to quit being salty every time, and it still slays me.

I love being me. I love her. I love Life, in general, sometimes. 🥰

Except when I can’t seem to wrap up a story because I keep wanting to add things to it. Take my current project, Little Dead Girls, which I’ll be releasing to my Patreon and Subscribestar peeps in parts soon, but the rest of the world will get in a compiled form on January 1, 2024. I’m midway through revising it, see, at the point where I should basically be just fine-tuning things, tweaking events and speech, and maybe adding in a few bits and pieces to add flavor and context to the story. Instead, a thought occurred to me. Three of the four main characters weren’t really fleshed out the way I like, and trying to add in all the information in the main story just seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. You can only inject so much, you know?

It would be a lot easier to give them their own story. The problem with that is I just wanted to flush them out quite a bit but not write an entire story. I just wanted to explain to the reader why these people are the way they are without getting too out there with it, you know?

An idea came to me right before bedtime: write a short story for each, with each one being the star, and simply include them all in the main book. Each story would occur before the story proper and explain not only why these people are the way they are, but why they are best friends to boot – and add a bit more mystery to why they do the things they do.

These words will make more sense when you actually read the story.

Doing this means I have to draft up, brainstorm, outline, rough draft, and revise three different stories, and then get them to the point where they are ready to be included in the main story at the point I currently have it. In short: it’s going to make the entire project take much longer than I initially anticipated.

And you know what?

I DON’ KUR!

Being an independent writer without a publishing house to report to is a good thing because my agent would have retired long ago and checked themselves into a mental institution.

I’m a weird little cookie, I know. I’m totally not sorry. 😏

#Alexaliens

 

💡 Vaginas Grow with Arousal 💡

Guys aren’t the only ones who wrestle with the eternal debate of grower versus shower. According to Dr. Debby Herbenick at Kinsey Confidential, the sexuality information service of The Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender, and Reproduction, a woman’s vagina can almost double in length when she’s aroused — a process called vaginal tenting.

“During sexual excitement, muscular tension pulls the uterus upward, which has the effect of making the vagina both longer and wider. Now, instead of being 3-4 inches in length, a vagina may reach approximately 5-6 inches in length.” Dr. Herbenick notes that vaginal tenting may explain why a woman sometimes feels tighter to her partner during intercourse.

Source: Astroglide

Little Dead Girls and hood rats in Elder Scrolls Online…

Dear Diary,

It’s frustrating when you really, really want to write, when your fingers are just aching to bleed out your creativity into your craft, your passion, and… Life decides to hit you with back-to-back time mongers that not only prevent it but only seem to relent when your energy and mental lucidity are completely tapped out. When you have just enough energy to stare blankly at your computer screen and blink, wondering if you’ll ever be able to blissfully go crazy the way you used to before adulting crept up and bitch slapped you.

Things do seem to be relenting a bit. Yesterday, for example, I was able to crank out several chapters of Little Dead Girls, my current passion project. Five hours later I was delightfully wasted, leaning back in my chair like I had just finished a marathon, smiling goofily to myself and completely spent. I loved it.

And then I jumped on a game I’ve been playing incessantly with my baby squirrel, Elder Scrolls Online. Normally I don’t play online games, but this one… see, I used to play World of Warcraft back in the day, and the differences between that and this game are night and day. Not only are the storylines more mature and fully voice-acted, but the community is so warm and helpful! For example, we were trying to complete an area’s tasks, and all we had left to do was kill one world boss (which is basically a monster so badass that you have to tackle it with a mass amount of people), but we kept getting beaten. Humiliatingly so. I mean, it was bad, yo. Usually, we can at least put a dent in a world boss and strategize/cheat our way to victory sometimes, but this creature mopped the ground with us without really trying.

After about 30 minutes and two dozen soul gems (soul gems are used to resurrect you when you die, and they are not cheap!) I decided to do something I had yet to do: I asked for help. I went on general chat, typed out a plea, and… one person responded. So I figured OK, one more person may make the difference, and even if it didn’t, we at least wouldn’t be the only ones getting whipped this time. Misery loves company, am I right?

So we waited.

About a minute passed.

And then all hell broke loose.

It was like the entire server showed up and started slaughtering this motherfucker, throwing him this way and that, hitting him with so many special powers and effects that it looked like a bunch of overenthusiastic Power Rangers clicking on a boss during the fourth of July. My mouth dropped open as I watched the carnage unfold on my screen. I was dumbfounded.

The entire battle was over in about 30 seconds.

Then everyone just blinked out one by one, some staying around to wave or socialize for a second, most just casually going on their way. I looked back at Anne, and she looked at me and… we were speechless. If you know anything about me, that is saying something. 😄 Since then I’ve been watching the chats and found that people occasionally do ask for help with things like dungeons or bosses, and aid is usually quick to come. Things like that never happened to me in World of Warcraft. Whenever I reached out for help (which wasn’t very often, because that’s a hard thing for me to do), I got either made fun of or ignored. Very rarely did I see anyone go out of their way for anyone else unless they were in the same guild, and even then, there seemed to always be strings attached. The maturity difference between these two games seems, to me, night and day.

So. If you’re playing and happen to see two confused little hood rats running around named Alexa Nichols and Squirrel-chan, say hi. If you’re lucky, we may even add you to our party. Maybe. No promises. 😄🥰✌

#Alexaliens

 

💡 The female orgasm lasts three times longer than the male orgasm 💡

What can we say, women have some pretty serious orgasmic advantages in the bedroom. First of all, the typical female orgasm lasts about 20 seconds, Michael Reitano, MD, physician in residence at men’s health company Roman, previously told Health. That’s more than three times longer than the male experience, which clocks in at just six seconds. Women also have the upper hand when it comes to being able to have multiple orgasms and G-spot orgasms. Ah, it’s great to be a woman!

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Flash fiction, creative diarrhea, and getting hard

Dear Diary,

I’ve been asked several times why the frequency of my entries has decreased over the past year, and (somehow) I always tend to come up with different answers. I was thinking about this the other day for some reason, contemplating ramping up the frequency, but I eventually came to this conclusion: I don’t really want to put anything out there unless I actually have something to say. Of course, this goes against all the common wisdom on being an independent author and advertising yourself, but I don’t care – I decided from day one that I was going to go my own path, looking to others for help when I needed it but otherwise enjoying myself without worrying about becoming, you know, just like everyone else.

I’ve learned a lot. Unfortunately, I still have a lot to learn. I’ve been having an incredible amount of fun with it all, though, especially when interacting with readers and getting their input on my stories.

That being written… my mind has been in a weird place as of late. My thoughts seem scattered, and even when writing, I keep thinking of a million different things that don’t pertain to the story. I file these things away for later, and I’ll no doubt use them in a future tale, but for the most part, I seem to have what amounts to creative diarrhea. It’s just going all over the place, everywhere but where I actually need it to go, causing my Idea Junkyard file to be filled with all sorts of bizarre tidbits.

Case in point.

I was working on my current work in progress (something I’m writing under a pen name), happily revising the completed story so I can finally put it out in the world, when I checked my posting schedule for Patreon and Subscribestar and came to a screeching halt. I have this project, see, Dark Jubilee, which is essentially a collection of short stories that fit under certain criteria like word or even character length. It’s more a creative challenge than anything, though I plan to release it once I have five stories in each section. Anyway, I had a story rapidly approaching, a piece of flash fiction (1,500 words or less) that I outlined a long time ago.

So I stopped working on my pen name project and jumped on Dark Jubilee. I flushed out the outline, wrote the rough draft, and did a word count: 2,354 words. I figured, hey, this is no biggie, just do another revision, trim it here and there, and it should be under 1,500 words in no time, right? So I did just that, then did the final word count: 3,066 words. 😂 Yeah, I apparently fail miserably as a short story writer. It’s definitely an art form, way more than I initially thought. It’s something I want to work on, especially considering how much I love to read them. And it would be nice to release actual short stories for a change…

Before I forget: my very first hardcover, Erotic Urban Legends: Volume 1, is now available for sale! If you like hardcovers, please go check it out. And, of course, thank you for reading. I appreciate it.

#Alexaliens

 

💡 The More You Know 💡

In several countries, some new brides place tiny bags containing chicken’s blood into the vagina prior to intercourse to prove the hymen was intact before marriage. In other countries, women have placed congealed sheep’s blood in their vaginas for the same purpose.

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

I have a secret to tell

Dear Diary,

So here’s something I’ve only shared with a handful of people in my life: I have dyslexia. You can sometimes see this in my social media posts, especially those I craft using my phone, because all my glorified grammar checkers aren’t active. When I was younger, I used to hand copy a page from the dictionary every day to try and combat my dyslexia, and if I made a mistake, I would throw the entire page away and start over. This was originally given to me as a punishment from one of my teachers (talking in class queen over here), but it turned out I really liked learning new words, so I decided to keep the practice up on my own. It helped my dyslexia a lot, and combined with electronic grammar correctors, I can now write books.

Why am I telling you this?

Anne told me something the other day after I helped her get in bed (she has cerebral palsy and arthritis) that broke my heart, though it wasn’t her intent: she thanked me for looking after her, for helping her do things she can’t do herself. It was a simple, pure statement, but for some reason, it hit me hard. She wasn’t necessarily thanking me for helping her; she regretted that she couldn’t do these things for herself. She felt like a burden, and she was reaching out to tell me how much she not only appreciated me but needed me.

For the record, she was wrong. She doesn’t need me. I know that she would simply find a way to do it herself if I weren’t there. She’s crazy smart and resourceful like that.

We all have our struggles; some are just more hidden than others.

Food for thought, right? It definitely was for me.

Anyway, writing-wise, I’m neck-deep in Camgirl, and it’s way more absorbing than I thought it would be. In many ways, it reminds me of Girl Fight, a book that took me emotionally all over the place, but Camgirl is a bit… darker if that’s possible. It’s definitely more sexual. And longer. It was also insanely difficult to start. I had all my meticulously organized notes and outlines in front of me, but actually starting the story… was a bit difficult. As hard as Camgirl was to start, once I started, the words just seemed to flow out.

This isn’t exactly abnormal.

Every time I start a new book, it’s always the same: I stare at a blank page, wonder how in the hell I’m going to begin, start questioning if I’ve lost my touch, then tentatively type out a few words like I’m scared of the keyboard or something. Within a few minutes, and this never fails, I’m frothing at the mouth and slamming away at the keys like I’m mad at them. Every time.

I’ve written this before and I’ll write it again: I love being a writer!

I doubt that will ever change.

So many stories, so little time…

#Alexaliens

 

“In America, sex is preached; in France, it is done.”

Fritz Lang

 

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Don’t gamble something you’re not willing to lose.

Dear Diary,

Boy. I did not expect the responses to my last entry. Most of the time when I sit down to write them I just write, barely thinking about what I’m putting out there, just kind of letting my fingers do the talking. It seems more authentic that way. I then run it through a quick grammar check (Grammarly) and let it fly. After about a day or so, many of you message me in one way or another and let me know what you thought, and I love that; it helps me feel connected to you and oftentimes provides an insight that I never would have otherwise. It’s the reward for taking the time to record and share my thoughts.

Until you motherfuckers turn against me. 😄

Not long after I posted my last entry, my inbox exploded. Most of you were telling me how stupid I was being, linking to article after article and telling me some of your own personal stories dealing with heart issues, and because of that, I was forced to stop and think: was I being stupid? Was I basically gambling with my health? Someone close to me once said something I hold near to my heart, something I remind myself of on a near-daily basis:

 

“Don’t gamble something you’re not willing to lose.”

 

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that. Life can get so engrossing that it’s easy to brush things to the side and focus on the more fun, attention-snatching elements. Especially, in my case at least, people. Ever heard the expression about the shoemaker who didn’t have any shoes? That is me to a T. I concern myself with other people’s problems so much that I often neglect my own. It’s natural to me; once you’ve fought past the obstacle course and made it into my heart, I do everything in my power to make sure you are as happy and healthy as you can be. I often write that I like who I am, that I love being me, and while true… that doesn’t mean I don’t see room for improvement. My health is definitely one of those areas.

So.

I went to the doctor. Again. Instead of describing exactly what happened, I’ll just plop in a message I sent to a friend:

 

I’m pissed. Today was a big waste of time – time that I could have been playing Skyrim. I left early as hell, got seen almost immediately, then had several tests ran on me. My body apparently picked today to be in perfect condition, because the preliminary exams looked good. They’re going to run tests on my blood, look at x-rays, and evaluate CT scans further and let me know what they came up with. Heart still enlarged; they just have no idea why. Yet. So I’m home.

They did say if I had any chest pains to return and they would likely admit me. So I’m about to shower, make myself some tea, and binge-watch some Walking Dead on Netflix.

 

I feel like everything was kind of rushed. I thought about this for a while and finally decided it is time I go back to the hospital, a different one this time, and see what they can do about my enlarged heart. I’m going to get the bulk of my baby squirrel’s appointments out of the way (all Cancer related), get our second microchipping (COVID shot) as soon as a slot opens up, and then my ass is going to the hospital. Maybe sooner depending on how I feel, I dunno. I will, of course, keep all of you updated because I have a habit of oversharing online. Hey, I’m a writer; I make no apologies for this.

About writing…

Man, do I have so many projects! I’m turning The Siren’s Song into a trilogy of books, each based on a different mythological creature, all interrelated, each keeping the same erotic romance tone. Right now, I’m only in the drafting stages, but it’s been a lot of fun so far. My primary project, and what I spend the bulk of my time on, is Camgirl, and the research on this is, well, interesting. Seeing the industry from a camgirls perspective is fascinating. I even plan to take part in a few camming sessions just for the experience. I like to have a true understanding of what I write about, and as I’ve never watched a camming session (just like I’ve never been in a strip club), it’s something that’s always interested me. So this should be fun.

If you are interested in learning about camming, I found an excellent documentary that I shared with my Patreon and Subscribestar Alexaliens a while back called Cam Girlz. You might want to check it out. There is a bunch of nudity and kinkiness, so make sure you’re not, like, at church or something when you attempt to watch it.

And let me know what you think. I always like knowing what you think. Even if you occasionally turn against me. 😏

#Alexaliens

 

“The fact is I am not having sex. But I feel absolutely ripe for the, what would you say? Plucking?”

– Angelina Jolie

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.