Cam Girl Thoughts

Come watch me :) http://katelynnkoi.flirt4free.com

[katelynnkoi]

On Anger

Hate, that emotion that springs up when you’re angry and directing it at something in particular. I’ve pushed anger out of my life for so long, when I realized that it was just covering up hurtful feelings, and it was a shield against vulnerability. I don’t want to be broken up down and left to pick up the pieces anymore. I want to stay whole, even if it means hating you. Momentarily. 

Channeling anger into creativity. 

[katelynnkoi]

On Spaces and Meaning

Earlier in the day I was in the kitchen prepping the ingredients for a beef stew and I had a podcast from the Accidental Creative on. It was an episode where he interviews Julien Smith, co-founder of Breather, a start-up that does for office spaces what Airbnb does for homes. Breather connects people to workspaces and meeting rooms across North America. It sounds like an amazing concept for nomadic workers, or startups with low budgets who aren’t able to consider a lease for a home base. 

In the podcast he mentioned a few things that caught my interest. The first was about the psychology of entrepreneurs and how they had to straddle the fine line between confidence and doubt. Enough confidence in their project to push it forward and get others on board, with enough doubt so that they will be open to new ideas and going a different route. The second was his vision of cities. He explained that a city was just a collection of spaces that had people traffic, and people only had access to a finite number of these spaces. He wanted to, in a sense, unlock doors to private spaces for people. 

When I heard this I thought about people as animals and our need for property, our ideas of ownership of space, and how we share with others, and our sense of home. I shared the startup idea with someone on Tinder and he started thinking about physical buildings and architecture, the way spaces are created. I then told this to a friend on Facebook who went down a different path altogether and thought about people physically moving in space, and needing a place to dance and do parkour. 

While all of these are relating to people to space, it’s interesting how each word we use denotes many abstract concepts, and are placeholders for meaning. I love differing perspectives, and broadening my worldview.

[katelynnkoi]

This Moment

All of my best and worst moments, begin and end in bed. Today I’m naked on top of my duvet, my feet flat against the duvet, knees bent and spread, letting my pussy feel the cool gust coming in from the window. I have my soft onesie balled up on my stomach, and my laptop on top of that.

I’m trying to give myself space to breathe.

My hair is wet from the shower. I used a luxurious fruity soap that was infused with loofah bits. When I lathered myself up, there was a deep and satisfying scratch to my epidermis, and the sweet citrusy scent of grapefruit woke up my senses. The simple things in life that I enjoy so so so much, with or without the influence of weed.

I refrained myself from smoking in fear that I would pick up my phone and be sucked back in. If my inner wisdom is telling myself that I need the space and liberty, then regardless of outside influence I should be able to respond to this feeling of need. 

Q-tips at the entrance of my ear would be lovely right now. 

[katelynnkoi]

Taking Time to Connect

This morning I rose at 4AM once again. After spending some time loafing in bed I decided to set myself up at a coffee shop to wait for the earliest yoga class. The class was listed for 7:15AM, so 10 minutes to, I wandered over. The streets are still dark at this time, and empty, oh so empty. I came up to the dark doorway and found a tall bearded figure looming over. He looked familiar so I introduced myself and asked if he was the yoga teacher. He certainly was the instructor, but unfortunately didn’t have the key to the studio. 

In a couple of minutes other students began to show up, but still there was no response from the big boss, so class was cancelled during the day. I started walking home and found myself waiting at a stop light. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a scraggly beard, and turned to see the instructor. We started chatting, and I shared with him that I was headed to Vancouver to do a yoga teacher training. I asked him about his experience and how he got into yoga. He had a shy demeanour to his posture, despite being a strikingly tall man. He told me that he was aimless and yoga just fell on his lap, and in his journey he learned a lot about himself.

I wanted to hear more about his story because I liked the warm and unpretentious vibe he had. I invited him for coffee, and he looked a bit torn, but shortly agreed. At the coffee shop we had a wonderful conversation, where I was able to put into perspective and figure out what drew me to yoga. And he shared a lot more about his experience. I learned a about the history of Ashtanga yoga, and much more about the business of yoga in the city. And at the end of our chat, he shared that he just had a new-born daughter with his wife. That explained his discomfort initially. I asked about his wife and the things he shared about her made her seem particularly interesting to me. If they had lived downtown I probably would have asked to hang out with his wife. 

I’m really glad I followed my instinct and instigated a small connection. The conversation was interesting, and I felt like I got a lot out of it. It gave me a taste of what it would be like for me to talk about yoga during my upcoming Skype interview with the director of the yoga teacher training I want to do. I found myself settled and engaged in a conversation with someone, unlike my day to day with some friends who I see out of comfort rather than interest. 

[katelynnkoi]

On Unconditional Love and Reciprocity

My cat Leopold really taught me a lot about unconditional love and being there even through the stickiest and most annoying of times. I never thought I would become a caretaker to another being in that way, and keep on swallowing my grievances, because there was no way he could understand. 

In the past year I started developing that kind of love for a fellow human being, and I tried to hard to put myself in their shoes and keep on braving all the things that came my way. I swallowed all the hurt feelings and the suffering because I had decided it was worth it. It taught me so much about patience and compassion, love and kindness, even when it felt like I had no more to give. A month ago it got to the point where it wasn’t only the feeling of no more, there just wasn’t anything, not even for me. I found myself braving the lows, my lows with no reserves, and no one to be there with me. 

It was then that I wished for reciprocity. For someone to have been there and treated me with the kindness and warmth that I had so lovingly shared. I felt guilty even thinking it, much rather asking for it, because that didn’t fit in the realm of unconditional love for me. I didn’t want to have been giving expecting it back. I didn’t want to participate in the guilt economy. I wanted to be with someone who chose to treat me like that. 

It’s been slowly dawning on me that I won’t be treasured in the way that I understand, and it’s no fault of another. I also understand that my propensity to love won’t be cherished in the same way I would, if it was directed in my own direction. While my feelings of affection won’t diminish or be based on conditions, my outpour of energy cannot go unchecked. Energetic balance, I need that. And in terms of reciprocity? I can’t expect it, but I can give back only in the manner which I receive. 

[katelynnkoi]

The Mirrored Self

I had a chance to really appreciate the friends I’ve chosen to keep around in my life this past New Years. Up until the 31st of December I imagined that I would likely spend it at home on my own, reflecting on the moments of 2016. Instead, through a series of events, my own concoction, I started creating a social experiment of sorts. Out of personal interest, and the want to see others, I orchestrated a scenario that brought 7 different sets of people together, and essentially created an entourage for my night. It made me really appreciate the power of connection and the wonderful way in which openness is met with itself. 

In not feeling good about myself lately, I’ve relegated myself to my own home, living out the life of a modern day hermit, connected solely through others via virtual reality. It only seems fitting doesn’t it? I am a cam girl after all. I was invited to a handful of parties for the passing of the new year, but all I really wanted to do was be in a place where I could move around, and do yoga; I wanted to be in a place where I would be comfortable to do myself. I also found myself realizing that it felt significant for me to be with someone that I cared about that night. The only person I wanted to see was my best friend in the city, and she was going to a wig party. It happened to be very close to the home of a friend who wanted to share my night. I invited him to sushi, and he reserved a table for four, one of our mutual friends cancelled, so I invited a girl friend of mine who was spending the night alone. Someone else reached out, and I invited him too. A tinder person I was talking to was new to the city, so I decided to bring him as well. Then another tinder person I had talked to mentioned a dear friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while, she lived near the party, so I reached out to her. The party was being hosted by a couple who are dear to me. 

Everyone in this group had their plus one, or significant other, and magically were able to make connections with one another. The night was fueled by weed candy, liquor, and MDMA, or a cocktail of these substances, YMMV. I let my friends entertain one another while I allowed myself to dance to the beat of my own drum. Half of us started off the night at a friend’s loft, we then all met up at the party, I did my hellos and brief catch-ups. At one point I found myself alone with the host, and he seemed to frazzled, that I gave him neck rubs and calmed with down with a guided meditation. My hermit mode, it could be described that I was energetically low, but when people seek me out, there is a part of me that was a hard time saying no. 

Throughout the night I had moments where I felt myself spread thin, but I managed to stay present and not let that thinking run the show. The night had its own essence of magic in it. Connection, play, and discovery were all had. It lit me up to see that even in a low state I could bring together such wonderful people. 

The next day I reached out to my dear friend and went over to her place. We chatted all afternoon, cuddled in a nest, and she made me chicken soup. She’s such a lovely and nurturing soul, and in spending time with her, I started to feel energetically balanced. She remarked that despite my confidence being high, my self esteem seemed shattered. I thought about that for a moment, and that was quite true. (In the same way an acquaintance told me that gratitude was not the same thing as happiness, since I shared with him that I couldn’t understand how I could be so unhappy knowing everything in my life was so great.) 

Whereas esteem comes from a feeling of self worth, confidence comes from an intellectual understanding of one’s achievements. Another friend of mine discovered I was back in Toronto, from an IG picture I posted, and I was hungry at the time so I invited him out to lunch. He was going to see the new Star Wars movie (Rogue One), so I tagged along. While waiting for the movie to start we were sitting at the bar, and I told him that I was struggling with my self esteem. His two cents was that my esteem seems inexplicably tied to my sense of independence. The statement really got to the heart of my mental state. 

Sometimes when you’re going in circles with thoughts that seem to weigh you down, it’s the people around you that are able to point to things that you miss. The value of multiple perspectives. 

[katelynnkoi]

During Those Brief Moments I’m Awake

Lately I’ve found myself sleeping a lot. Whether I’m sleeping during the day because of jetlag, napping during the early hours of the morning because I want to call it polyphasic sleep, falling asleep because my body is crying for rest, or really if it’s my mind taking any excuse to shut down, I sleep a lot. This morning I fell into slumber while listening to The Unmistakable Creative Podcast: Conversations We’re Afraid to Have with Jerry Colonna, and 2 parts hit home for me. 

The first thing that stuck with me was when he mentioned that as Westerners it’s tough for us to have compassion. We have a hard time being compassionate for our toughest enemies, but even worse, we find it difficult being compassionate for ourselves. We just won’t let up with our thoughts of judgement and criticism.

The second thing he said that really struck me was about his predisposition for having feelings. Jerry tells us that he’s often been told he’s too sensitive, and he doesn’t approach this with a sense of wistfulness, he almost ridicules this notion, and spits back at the world. He then remarks that we grow into adults who don’t learn to deal with this abundance of feelings, and that leads us into suffering. He tells us that suffering is often met with violence, hurtful negativity directed at others or ourselves. 

What he talks about are Buddhist concepts and ideas, that have quite often resonated with me. This morning I find myself wanting to share this. I want to keep on pushing myself to share the small tidbits that have stuck with me during the day, and curate a collection of interesting thoughts for another reader. I want to start writing again.

[katelynnkoi]

Rambling.

I’m lying on my bed after a bout of tears. Sadness tripped and knocked at my door again. I know for a fact that life is too beautiful for me to feel so horrible about it. There’s no one conspiring against me, I hold the possibility of more than I could ever want. But my mind, just really knows how to create these feelings that tear me up inside. 

Sometimes I reach out and tell people that I’m down, and they ask me, what’s wrong? I say nothing. That sometimes my mood just brings me down. Energetically, I seem to be at a deficit. I was once told that I leave my spiritual doors open. 

I sleep a lot these days because when I’m asleep my conscious mind can’t feel bad. Excitement stopped happening. It’s a face I try to put on. Badly. This won’t be everyday, and every moment has an opportunity for change.

[katelynnkoi]

Making a Decision to Fly Home

A few days ago I was sprawled out on a king sized bed at a boutique hotel. The lights were off, the temperature was set to my liking (the subtle gap between 24C and room temperature), and I was staring into my brightly lit phone every few moments. I was carrying sparse conversations with a couple of regulars on Twitter, engaging with a handful of people on Facebook, and avoiding reading messages from my beloved. I’m prone to hormonal hysterics during various parts of my cycle, and during that phase, a week leading up to my period, I was extremely on edge.

I was shedding slow tears, sometimes leading up to body convulsing sobs, mostly, physically allowing myself to be overwhelmed by the feeling of loneliness and anguish. I almost felt like I used when I was a teen, the dark moments where you imagine it’s you against the world, and not one single soul understands. At least, I painted that picture for myself in my mind. I was alone, a stranger in a foreign land, and miles away from home. The thoughts of being stuck on my own in Bangkok kept on gracing my mind.

The only feeling of relief from this negativity came from the thought of curling up in my own bed in Toronto. Realistically, what was the difference between that hotel bed in Bangkok, and the one of my own home in Toronto? Generally it takes me about a week to get accustomed to a place and think of it as home. In Mexico I made myself a home in a brightly lit loft that contained a princess bed. I was hit with low moments then, and I was much closer to home, a 4.5hr flight, but I never felt the appeal of coming back.

I don’t think I could reason out what made me purchase a very expensive flight home (at the cost of a month’s rent). I did leave the decision for a few days, but it came down to the feeling, and I followed it.  

The next day was beautiful, I was on a roll with my inner wisdom and I followed my heart to an art gallery. My beloved came to visit and we were able to find lightness and happiness together. Then I slipped back into my negativity the day after. That night I woke up in the middle of the night being driven by the thought of purchasing a flight home. I tried making 4 different purchases. The first ticket I couldn’t buy because it was less than 72hrs before the flight. The second one rose in price by 2x. The third one was unsuccessful my credit card was declined. The fourth one I tried to purchase with my other card, also declined.

The morning after found me in a stressful place. I wanted to get home but I couldn’t. I gave myself the space to find calm, and then called my credit card company to sort everything out. Before I knew it I had my flight booked. 

[katelynnkoi]

Tossing Myself to the Wind

The weight of my head, it sinks into the plush duvet. My shoulder blades, they dig into the softness. 

I wonder how much of my life I spend in a bed. 

The place where I sleep, where warm bodies come to be kept company, where I find myself idling, where I read, sometimes even when I eat, mostly I’m lying there with my legs spread, whether it is a toy pleasuring me or the male form. At times another female’s head, between my legs, sinks into the depths of my cunt, her mouth hot, wet, and pliable. Today my legs they pair together over the edge of the bed, until finally my body ascends into verticality. 

I see a giant slice of watermelon sitting on the counter. The kind of slice you imagine a little girl holding up with both her hands, but still she is dwarfed by its size. Her tiny mouth, it bites into it. Neat little bites that seem to draw the juices out. Her chin rosy, with sugar water dripping. Her hands sticky, stained by the liquid. Too lazy to take a knife from the drawer I lower my head to take a bite. Crisp and delicious. Flavour fills my mouth. I take another bite, and another, and then another, until the neatly cut slice is filled with bite marks. 

I get bitey when I’m horny.

My mouth heaving moist breath on your shoulder, my legs are wrapped around you. Like a koala bear gripping onto a branch, I tighten my legs, and you keep on thrusting. Deeply, heavily. My teeth they graze your skin, ready to sink in. You gasp as I do, and I moan deeply into your body. Your cock already at the height of its attention, it gets harder. My body melts. There is glitter and stardust sprinkled on the droplets of sweat running down my spine. My face is glowing, and the smile that emanates, leaves a sweet touch to the skin of your neck. My lips are tracing kisses across your jaw. They find your lips. The unison of our bodies? I could die tonight.

This is my happy place. Come find me. 

http://twitter.com/katelynnkoi

http://katelynnkoi.flirt4free.com

[katelynnkoi]

Meandering around Riverside, Toronto.

[katelynnkoi]

Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others… re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul…

Walt Whitman

[katelynnkoi]

The writer might be a voyeur who likes to exhibit herself. This is partly what it means to present something to an audience – the wish to be known, to inhabit a persona, accompanied by a certain shamelessness.

Hanif Kureishi 

I happened to stumble upon this quote because a recent follower caught my attention. Both his name and his handle on Twitter belongs to the realm of mathematics, and the accounts that he follows are that of what I would consider to be a more intellectual leanings, of which Hanif Kureishi’s account was one. I’m currently in the midst of reading his book, Intimacy. It is an account of a man mulling over his life and experience as he contemplates leaving his wife. The plot isn’t quite one that catches my interest, but it seems to be a study on intimacy, human connection, and relationships. 

It’s 5 minutes past midnight and I’m sitting on the balcony of my Airbnb on top of a hill overlooking the viejo Puerto Vallarta. There are a handful of lights shining down below, the dogs are barking in chorus at one another, and the sound of lone motorists scrape by city roads. The smell of moisture is thick in the air, rainy season is on its way. I’m on the wooden bench that I dragged out to the balcony, my laptop on the table, and my legs spread wide apart on either side of me as my feet are perched on the seat. It’s an odd position to be in, not quite ladylike, but it makes me feel like a boss. My pussy is enjoying the humid air. 

There was the feeling of wanting to share a few thoughts, but now that has receded. What’s left is the aggressive knot wedged underneath my left shoulder blade. 

I want to make camming a sustainable income for myself. I want to be able to turn it into a living & breathing art project for myself. I want it to inhabit the space of passion. I want to share myself in the world. Curating and embodying joy and creativity. Mostly my life’s mission thus far has been to be happy and experience. I want to explore the world, to document sights and my perceptions, to share it with those who would like to partake and peek into my lens. In order to do so I think it’s important for me to feel like a whole person. One day this will include my personal life, for I would enjoy publishing a memoir, but today it’s to join in matrimony, for better or for worse, my two worlds:

I used to escort. I have been paid for sex. People usually call this prostitution. 

In my “civilian” life all of my friends know and I’m quite open with it to strangers. Unfortunately this mindset somehow just did not extend to the camming world. Most people seem to not consider cam modeling sex work, so the stigma follows, and then there was the fear of being devalued. It is mine, the choice to determine how much I’m worth, from how I would enjoy others treating me, to how I much I respect myself. Whether I’m making $1 a day, or $1600 a day does not dictate worth. Whether I’m whoring my body, or I’m whoring my mind does not allow a stranger to make judgements on my lifestyle. I shouldn’t have to justify my choices in life, whether past or present. I am happy to explain my view on how I’ve lived my life, and I’m happy to share my experience with anyone who asks. I’m not happy to be questioned, berated, or saved. 

Most recently I had an escort client find me on Flirt, and he started chatting with me under a different identity, we became close on the site and I had the experience of being overwhelmed by the kindness of a stranger. Last night he came clean about who he was, and how he had been feeling guilty about keeping this from me. I wasn’t mad at all, in fact, I was quite confused. He talked about closing his account, and not contacting me again. Today we had a PVT and finally I could ask him about his life, and he could talk freely about his. I think this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It made me realize that there are people in my life who have gotten to know me, adore me, and want to support me, in whatever capacity makes sense to me.

Another stranger who reached out yesterday, has what he considers to be an extremely odd fetish. He’s sent me lengthy messages about it, we’ve chatted about it a bit, and even did a tiny show with me acting it out. Today he expressed to me:

“This is all so strange for me and it’s a new experience.  Just telling someone about this kink is so liberating, you have no idea.“

It lit up my world, to know that I was able to be a safe space for someone. That was my joy with escorting as well, that i was able to provide a feeling of human connection. I want to be proud of myself and how I choose to live my life. Maybe the good girl thing works for most girls, but I’m not most girls, and I’m happy to be a shameless exhibitionist. Welcome to my life. 

[katelynnkoi]

My experience of The Old Town in Puerto Vallarta.

[katelynnkoi]

Thoughts on Art & Anxiety

I’ve been meaning to start yet another blog, and I have been waiting for the “right time”. When successful writers talk about writer’s block, they tell you that there is never a right time, you set a schedule and you start writing, you write everyday, you write whenever you can, and in building a habit you distance yourself from the nerves and anxieties of producing something that doesn’t quite feel right, or isn’t quite good enough. 

Today I woke up in search for a contemplative solitude, instead I found myself on my phone responding to unanswered messages to friends back home. In conversing with my friends I found that I had a lot to say. I have finally gained a sense of perspective that had been missing in the past couple of weeks. 

There are times that anxiety pushes me toward productivity, the thought of not doing enough and the thought of not being good enough are the main ones. The thoughts that follow those in a swirling cloud of awe striking negativity leave me alone in my head wondering, why me? And mostly those thoughts are paralysing and leave me weak in my knees with a sense of insecurity. 

Charles Bukowski as an example is a fantastic poet who survived on booze, women, and bad feelings in order to produce. While painting a picture of the stark reality of life may offer a sense of camaraderie to those down in the dumps, I would rather create a reality that lifts me up, and offers pleasures. 

I’ve always been the kind of girl that is delighted by so many things in the world. It took me a long time to realize that. Living in a world that praises those who specialize in a field, growing toward a narrower and narrowed focus, I had always thought that I was an oddity who hadn’t found her calling. There was no particular interested that seemed to stand out from the rest, it was always moments of brief infatuation that didn’t seem to last. Eventually time paved way for a patterns, the lost loves of my childhood always came back, and they resurfaced in a different manner. 

Art is a way for me to communicate with the world, and communication is a means for connection. It is a mode of interacting that requires many different mediums:

I have a love of movement and kinesthesia. When my body hears music it can’t help but move to the beat and the texture of the sound. When the words aren’t quite right in my head, I reach out to touch. Sensual caresses moving over large expanses of skin, the pressure of my knees, arms, and hands contorting your body in ways that you may never have thought to twist and bend into. Targeted kneading to relieve muscular tension. I seem to treat massage as a dance as well. 

I have a love for the written word. I have been a voracious reader who’s been urged to use her love of prose to send thoughts out into the abyss. I’ve often called it a compulsion though, writing blanks. That masturbatory essence of teasing out thoughts and ideas for no purpose other than self indulgence and pleasure. But just as there are people who enjoy watching my body caught in that state of arousal and release, there are others that enjoy reading my internal monologue. 

I have a love for fine art, design, and aesthetics. This manifests in my photography, paintings, or even fashion. I dabble in all sorts of artistic pursuits and every so often I do share them with the world. Lately it’s just been sharing my view of the world and my travels through photographic form, with an emphasis on composition and post-processing. 

Most of of my life and what I love I consider to be part of my pursuit to communicate. I want to open myself up to perspectives and ideas that are so far obscured from my reality. I think in order to do that I really need to embrace the various mediums where people find meaning. Whether I’m communicating with someone through the rational lens of a scientific background or sharing abstract ideas with someone who is spiritually inclined I want to be able to keep an open mind and an open heart. And in sharing that with the world I’m confident that it will help spread the happiness and pleasure that I am seeking in my own world. At the crux of it, we’re all humans who long for a sense of kinship and understanding. The universal experience of the human condition. 

Lately most of my anxieties take on the form of how do I maintain my outlook on life while surviving in this world and doing what is right for me? How do I create and share happiness when I’m overtaken by insecurity, and doubt? Parker Palmer in his book “A Hidden Wholeness” wrote a paragraph that stood out to me: 

“Afraid that our inner light will be extinguished or our inner darkness exposed, we hide our true identities from each other. In the process, we become separated from our own souls. We end up living divided lives, so far removed from the truth we hold within that we cannot know the "integrity that comes from being what you are.”

This is me taking a stab at opening up and not being afraid to show myself to the world. Thank you @LucyEverleigh for inspiring this bout of writing.