Meditations 4: The Power of…Routines?

“The Japanese do not need grandiose motivational frameworks to keep going, but rely more on the little rituals in their daily routines.”

― Ken Mogi, Awakening Your Ikigai: How the Japanese Wake Up to Joy and Purpose Every Day

Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up, open your eyes and just go, ‘NOPE’? That was me today. I rolled over and went back to sleep, blessedly ignoring the world outside of my dreams. It was clear that my body needed the rest – I’ve had a very stressful week – but when I finally got up, I was COMPLETELY out of whack.

I wandered around the room, staring at the walls and blinking in the light from the window, wondering what the hell I was doing. It wasn’t until I remembered that this was, technically, my morning that I got myself together.

I pottered around, doing exactly what I would typically do at eight a.m. at *cough* nearly midday, and something inside me settled. The panic that had been building over the fact that I’d ‘LOST SO MANY HOURS!’ dissipated, and I relaxed into the familiarity of my morning routine. I’m a writer; I make my own hours. If I want to work from 4 p.m. until midnight, I can! If I’m feeling like getting up super early, I can join the 5 a.m. writers club and honk that early-morning horn to my heart’s content. The time doesn’t matter; it’s what you do with it that counts.

Routine (or, if you like, ritual) helps set your brain into the correct mindset for productivity, and that’s its power. We don’t know what’s going to happen to us throughout the day, but we do know what we can do with our now.

Julia X

If you’re interested in getting your own personalised erotic story, then check out my site and place your order! Life’s short, so embrace what you want today!

Meditations 3: My Spartans

“He who sweats more in training bleeds less in war.”

– Spartan Creed

The modern-day equivalent is less dramatic but equally true: Practice makes perfect.

However, we must also remember to not ‘Let perfect become the enemy of good’. We NEED to fuck up. We need to sweat. We need to fall, again and again, and again, bloodying our knees and bruising our ego’s so that we learn that fucking up is NOT the end.

We wouldn’t expect a child to be perfect the first time they rode a bike, so why do we expect ourselves to produce a masterpiece the first time we pick up a pen?

It seems ludicrous to me, but day after day, I listen to people professing that they ‘Wish they could write’ or ‘Wish they could draw’. Each time I tell them they can, and each time they scoff. “Just because you can’t do something perfectly doesn’t mean that you can’t do it,” I tell them, and they roll their eyes and call me a pedant. What they meant was that they wished they were experts in the crafts and that they could get there without putting any effort in. When I tell them how I became good at writing or how I became good at sketching, they fling their arms up and declare that they don’t have time for that kind of thing.

Really? You don’t have time to sit down and write 300 words a day? Or do a five-minute sketch of something you see in a notebook?

In the words of Kid Kapichi and Bob Vylan in their song New England, “Is it that you can’t change, or that you won’t change?’

Nothing worth doing is ever easy, but if you sit down and write 300 words a day, every day for the next year, you’ll have a novel. If you sketch for five minutes every day, you’ll be an ‘artist’ in no time.

When you let fear of failure stop you from pursuing your dreams, you’ve already lost. But when you look it in the eye and take a step forward anyway, that is when you become the person you admire. That is when you become courageous, and that is when you succeed.

Julia X

If you’re interested in getting your own personalised erotic story, then check out my site and place your order! Life’s short, so embrace what you want today!

Meditations 2: Give me Coffee or Give me Death!

“Coffee is a way of stealing time that should by rights belong to your older self.”

― Terry Pratchett, Thud!

Last night, I was so ready to write something profound. Something inspirational! Something epic. But you know what? I got nada. I woke up, looked in the mirror at the bird’s nest that is my hair, and thought, “Give me coffee or give me death.”

Melodramatic, I know. But I am in the mornings…and in the mid-days…and in the evenings…I’m just melodramatic, OK? I like to live my life as if I have a narrator; it keeps things fun.

But anyway, this got me thinking:

What do I actually need to be happy?

Not want, not crave, not “Oh, life would be kinda suckier if I didn’t have this”. No, what do I need to be happy?

The answer surprised me.

Bar the basics of food, water, shelter and clothes (so I’m not arrested) not much. But one thing that I would always seek out is a way to tell stories.

Stories have become so integral to the person I am today that I genuinely get twitchy if I go a few days without writing at least something. It doesn’t have to be an epic space battle for the survival of the planet. It could be as simple as a description of a vase that’s going to become a key plot point later. It could be the feeling of the sun rising and the light hitting your chest…and you cursing as you realise that you forgot to close the curtains, so now the neighbours can see your Johnson…again.

Stories can be as poetic, as vulgar, or as hauntingly beautiful as you like, and for me, that’s their appeal. I can be myself inside a story. I can explore my ‘dark side’ – trust me, it’s way darker than you think – I can allow myself to be that fluffy, pink-loving princess that I never was as a child – Tomboy Team Represent! – and I can be either male or female, happy or sad, cunning or cowardly; the list goes on. But my point remains, through stories, I get to explore aspects of life that would otherwise be shut off for me by the confines of my particular reality.

And. I. Love. It!

I adore imagining myself into another timeline, another universe, one where I’m free to play with the rules, fiddle with the laws and do whatever I want! I mean, who wouldn’t?

In this story, you can get the girl. In that story you can bang the MILF behind the bike sheds, and in another you can seduce the pro-footballer. You can be as kinky or vanilla as you like, and you can concentrate on the details that matter the most to you.

Into pet play? Cool! Let’s explore that! Want an entire scene described that solely focuses on spanking? Hell yeah! Let’s do it!

Stories bring me alive in a way that nothing else has, and it’s because of this that I’m making them my life’s work. If I had to do it all again, I would still choose this path, and that, my friends, is a wonderful feeling.

So, ask yourself this: What would you still strive to do if you lost it all? If your slate was wiped clean, what would you focus on today? And when you have your answer, open a new door and start putting one step in front of the other to make it a reality.

Dreams become realities when we do small things every day that move us towards them.

Well, I’ll be damned; I did manage to write something profound, after all. And I’m only 3/4 of the way through my cup!

Happy Tuesday, everyone. I hope your day is a beautiful one!

Julia X

If you’re interested in getting your own personalised erotic story, then check out my site and place your order! Life’s short, so embrace what you want today!

Meditations: 1

“It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it’s called Life.”

― Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent

It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Loss is something that we all must deal with during our lives and it is never pleasant. It is, however, unavoidable, which begs the question: What do we do about it?

What do we do with the time we’re given and how do we live a quote-on-quote ‘good life’?

The stoics would say that we should live a Virtuous one. The Sophists would say that we should live a Pleasurable one and the Nihilists would say, “What the hell? Nothing really matters, so do whatever the heck you want!”

All ideals have value and all are just that – ideals. We are all mortal, we are all fragile and we are ALL, every one of us, fallible.

We all fall short of these ideals every day. We chose to eat chocolate for breakfast sometimes, we chose to walk past beggars on the streets and we chose to put the bins out late. Everything we do in life is a choice – in fact, I have that very line tattooed on my arm as a reminder – and I know for a fact that this is true. But it doesn’t always feel like it is.

And that’s another issue. We have these pesky things called ’emotions’. We let them fester and brew within us, and they come out in the most unexpected ways. So on top of life, we now have to deal with our reactions to it as well!

It all seems like so much!

How the HELL are we supposed to handle everything? How’re we supposed to process having a job, a family, a life, while constantly being bombarded by thoughts and feelings, constantly reacting to everything around us and still, somehow, remain sane?

It’s an ongoing question, and one that has many many different answers, but one that I’m going to be writing about – and occasionally talking about too – in this blog.

My life has changed dramatically recently, and it will again soon, but there’s one thing that I know for sure: It will continue happening.

To bastardise Marcus Aurelius: It doesn’t matter if your life lasts seventy years, or three days, it will all end the same, so why worry?

We must make the most of the time we have.

And for me, that means spreading happiness. I want to bring joy to people’s lives and I intend to do just that in a way that I’m sure the Sophists would be proud of.

With Erotica!

This will be my daily meditation, my daily diary, my daily thought, whatever you want to call it. Some days it will be short, others it will be long, but it will always be there. Every day, for the rest of my life. This will be my take on existence.

So if you wish to join me on this journey, then subscribe and accompany me on my quest to live a full, complete and, most of all, good life.

Sex is not a sin, nor is pleasure; they’re part of the human condition just as much as movement and thought are. What happens in your head is entirely yours and you are entitled to think and imagine whatever you like. Embrace it. Explore it. And together we can make the world a better place, one orgasm at a time!

Julia

If you’re interested in getting your own personalised erotic story, then check out my site and place your order! Life’s short, so embrace what you want today!

Dear Diary: She’s not even my girlfriend!

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 10

Dear Diary,

Chrissy hasn’t stopped messaging me all day. Apparently her flat-mates are asking about me and she isn’t happy. You’d think they’d never seen a naked woman before, the way she’s going on.

I’ve got half a mind to go over there and barge into their rooms in my birthday suit, just so she’ll shut up. For pity’s sake, it’s just skin; they’ve all got it. I do not see what the big deal is. I looked good and I was happy. Chrissy was there too! If she really had a problem with it, then she’d’ve stopped me, surely? Why’s she making such a fuss about it? I don’t care if people know what colour my pubes are or that I’ve got a tattoo of a bunny on my thigh. She doesn’t have an issue with people seeing my elbows, so why would she have a problem with them seeing my tits? I don’t belong to her. I’m not her property! She hasn’t even asked me to be her girlfriend!

Diary, why’re people so stupid about this stuff? It’s my body. If I’m not upset about it, why’s she? None of this makes any sense

***

OMG She just messaged me again! Argh! I’ve told her a thousand times that I don’t care about being naked! It’s what I said that I’m bothered about, but she just isn’t getting it! She seems to think that I’ve somehow insulted her by not being upset about the fact that her flatmate jerked off to me last night! 

WHY THE FUCK WOULD I CARE ABOUT THAT? WHY? It’s his dick, not mine! He’s free to jerk off to whatever the fuck he wants! But nooo, now I’m the sicko and she’s trying to guilt-trip me into letting her stay with me tonight!
Fuck off! No! If she’s not going to apologise for calling me a damned exhibitionist slut, then she’s not staying in my bed!

Dear Diary: I think my Lecturer’s Seen my Video…

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 9

Dear Diary,

I think my lecturer has seen my ‘video’. She was looking at me funny in class and I can’t help but wonder. I couldn’t sit still. I kept wondering what she was thinking about when she was giving me those sideways glances. 

Was she wondering if I was ‘that girl’? Was she imagining me naked? Did she think that I was an idiot? That I’m some sort of sexual freak? That I’ve got a drugs problem?

It didn’t stop. The whole time I was sat there, oscillating between mortification and intrigue. I have no idea what the lecture was about, but I have a perfect recollection of her face. The way her glasses rested on the end of her nose as her sparkling green eyes met mine. How red her lips were when she wet them with her tongue. The exact arch of her eyebrows…

God, she’s beautiful.

***

I wonder what she thought of me? Did she like how curved my hips were, or how perfectly my tits bounced as I ran? Did she like seeing the cold water cascade off my back? Was she thinking about kissing me?

Oh, Diary, why can’t you give me the answers? I can’t sleep! All I can think about is her!

Dear Diary: I’m Never Drinking Again…

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 8

Dear Diary,

Sorry I haven’t written in a few days. I just haven’t felt up to it.

I’m never drinking again, and now there’s a video of me stripping naked in the town square and running through the water fountains declaring that I’m the Goddess of Love circling the campus.

When I find out who took it, I’m gonna kill them.

I’d never dare to make such a bold claim. I’m more the Goddess of grumbling about the lack of coffee shops that are open at two in the morning. I’m no Aphrodite. Admittedly, I do look pretty banging in the twinkling lights, but still, why would I ever say that? Someone had to have put me up to it. They’re trying to get Nemesis to come after me, but the jokes on them! I was drunk, so it doesn’t count! (It doesn’t, right? Please tell me I haven’t pissed off the most powerful force in the known universe, please… My head hurts enough as it is.)

God, I really do feel like death. Maybe this is Aphrodite’s punishment? Do you think a fry up at eight at night would be a good idea? I’ve only been up for four hours, so technically it’s breakfast, right?

Fuckit, I don’t care. I need food. If I survive the night, I’ll let you know how it went tomorrow.

Dear Diary: The Sun, It Burns!

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 7

Dear Diary,

Why does the sun exist? Who thought that it’d be a good idea to be diurnal? Seriously? My housemates think that I’m being a drama queen, but they don’t know the things I’ve seen! They don’t know, man! Nocturnal living’s the way forward! It’s so much quieter at night and you don’t have any of that annoying ‘sun’ crap blinding you and waking you up before 16:00. Who needs sunlight, anyway? We have street lights now! Technology! That’s what us university students contributed to the world: Science!

***

OK, I just googled the guy that invented street lights, and he was definitely a student of science. The guy was a toff from germany called Frederick Albert Winsor, who came to the UK to study, then went to France, then came back to the UK (fuck knows why, it sucks here) and set up the first working street light! 

See! Students are useful.

We aren’t all just alcohol obsessed, sex-crazed bunnies; some of us figure out how to light the world!

I mean, most of us don’t, but some of us do! And I could be one of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Chrissy’s invited me to a party to take my mind off my work.

Shut up, everyone needs a break every now and then.

Dear Diary: The Pressure is Building…

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 6

Oh, my God! Why did I leave this so late? I’ve got three hours until I have to hand it in and I’ve barely written anything! I don’t know what to do! My mind’s completely blank! FUCK!

Fuck, why did I spend so long on the beach yesterday? God, I’m such an idiot! Shit, shit, SHIT!

OK, OK, think… Calm down, take a deep breath. You know this stuff. You do. The Professor loved your- THE ESSAY PLAN! OMG, I totally forgot about it! Holy crap! That’s it! I just have to follow what I wrote in the plan!

***

OK, this is harder than I thought. I’ve made good arguments, sure, but how am I going to get to the word count? And I’ve got to cite all my sources! Fuck!

***

This is it. My life’s over. I have a thousand words to go and I can’t think! I’m going to fail everything and then my parents’ll try to tell me it’s alright as they silently judge me for being such a waste of space! They raised a failure! I’m never going to do this!

Chrissy’s going to DUMP ME!

***

I’m not giving up. That’s what they want me to do! I’ll show them all! I’ll write the FUCK out of this essay!

***

Fuck, diary, I’m shaking. I handed it in with two minutes to spare and I have no idea if it’s any good. But it’s DONE. I’m going to bed.

There has to be more to life than this…

Dear Diary: Today I Fu*ked Up By…

And if you want to hear far more naughty samples of my erotic creations, click here!

Day 5

Dear Diary,

Or should that be Reddit? Today I Fucked Up by trying to have sex on a beach. Never have sex on a beach. 

Let me explain.

We’d planned it all out. We’d started the day in her favourite cafe. I’d had my mocha with extra cream, she’d had her soy-latte with extra vegan shit in it and everything was great. The birds were singing, we were high on caffeine and bean juice, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. 

Life, as they say, was perfect.

We bundled ourselves into her tiny Nissan Micra and we were off! Nothing could stop us and we headed out into the wild wastelands of… Well, Cornwall, but it was pretty, OK? Just because the scariest thing in the UK is a cow doesn’t mean it can’t be wild, thank you.

Anyway, once we got to the beach, we set ourselves up and she hired us two boards to play around with. She got me a body-board to help me get used to how it feels to ‘catch a wave’ and everything was going great. I tired myself out in about an hour and decided to go back to our ‘camp’ while I watched her do her thing in the sea. 

By the time she came back, I was ready to jump her. She was hot, wet and ready to get naked.

Now, we’d set up in the dunes to keep the wind off us, so we were nice and sheltered, but still, the rush of getting naked outdoors was real and we were giggling like kids as we rolled around on our towels together. 

It wasn’t until our fingers started to explore ‘down there’ that we realised our mistake.

Diary. Sand should not be allowed to get into those kinds of crevices. I’m walking like John Wayne. I’ve had three baths and I swear I’m still finding sand. 

And I’ve still got to write that essay!

Why, Diary, why did no one tell me about this beforehand?