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I'm 19 years old, and I have a full-time job that would probably shock your grandma. I'm a cam girl. For those of you who don't know, a cam girl is the digital era's prostitute. The escort of the virtual age. Men (and sometimes women) come to me for companionship, consolation, conversation –– and most of all, sex. In exchange, I broaden my horizons. I get to interact on a very intimate level with people from all over the world. And, of course, I get money. And a pretty good amount of it at that.
But it's not all peaches and cream. It's not like you can take off your shirt and suddenly the financial world is your oyster. Being a cam girl is deceptively hard, and camming really is a full-time job. It's about promoting and marketing your own business, creating a name for yourself, finding that little niche in the grand scheme of things where you fit in –– all the while being the product, the showgirl, the bread and butter. Websites promise you "$10,000 a week from home in just a few hours a day!", which lures thousands of young girls into showing their stuff and being very disappointed with the payout. The truth is, it takes years to build the fan base that will turn over that kind of income. It takes hours upon hours of grueling labour, replying to thousands of messages a day from needy clients who live in a fantasy world where they're your only priority. At the same time, you're maintaining your body, your hair, your face, your image, to stay presentable, fashionable and on top of the trends. There's no time for a sick day if you want to make real money. Even when you're not on camera, you are still working. It doesn't stop. Camming is a 24-hour-a-day job.
A day in my life consists of waking up around 8am. I go straight to the gym, where I work out for about two hours. I come home, shower, and get directly to work. My Skype account gets turned on and I'm monitoring my Twitter account while I put on my face for the day. Hair, makeup, and body maintenance take about 3 hours, between updating social media and replying to clients who just can't seem to wait for me to get online. When that's done, I take about 30 promo photos that can be uploaded during the day to keep my profiles on different sites relevant and fresh.
Haris Cizmic (and the humans), uniting the world in the song "Honeythief". Recorded and mastered at the Axart Studio (Detroit), mixed at Metro37Studios (Detroit) and Chris Liecek Studio (San Antonio), written by Ryan & Rebecca Coseboom of Halou, (originally published by Halousongs, administered by BMI) 2008, BMI. Camera by Scott Sprague and Haris Cizmic, video by Blindspot Production 2012, featuring Aleksandra Cizmic and people all around the world.
Listen and download it all from http://hariscizmic.com/music
If you want to find more information regarding Haris Cizmic - Official music video for "Honeythief" review www.youtube.com/watch
Song is available for download at http://hariscizmic.com/music
Official video for "Breathe In Water single" by Haris Cizmic (leader of Sarajevo/Detroit's rock bands AXA & INGRAY). Directed by Scott Sprague and Aleksandra Cizmic. Featuring Aleksandra and David Dupuie. Filmed at Scarab13 Studio and on locations in Detroit, Royal Oak, Highland Park.
Check iTunes for more music by Haris Cizmic
©2018 All Rights Reserved
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Tara and I had been watching Bridgette Jones. It was girls night and we had been talking, laughing, and drinking our way through the whole movie. I was wasted even by my own standards and Tara was at least as far gone as I was when the movie ended.
“I fucking love that movie,” Tara set her wineglass down and laughed. “I mean, I’m not a huge fan of Hugh Grant, but I would fuck the shit out of Colin Firth.” Her eyes were swimming.
I clicked the remote and leaned back on the couch. Tara had come over to my place because she was at the bottom of her rope. She had lost her job as a hostess a few weeks before and she hadn’t been able to pick up another one. Of course, her boyfriend, one of the cooks at the restaurant before it closed, had also just broken up with her. And I seemed to be her only friend.
“Yeah, he’s yummy,” I smiled and held my glass out for a refill.
“I have a confession,” Tara finished filling my glass. “I am going to be a cam girl.” She leaned back on the couch.
“A cam girl?” I thought about the little adverts I had seen on various, porn sites. “Wow, ok,” I sounded judgy even though I didn’t mean too, “how does that work exactly?”
Tara took a long sip of the wine and grinned. “It’s stupid easy. I mean, all I do is set up a webcam thing, log on to this website, and then start chatting with every pervert that clicks on my picture. They can pay extra and I can go solo with them, which is where the real money’s at apparently, but all I do is, you know dress sexy and type, maybe show a boob or something until I get a private room request. But after that, things get hawwwt.” She rolled her eyes.
I stared at her. “So, like a strip tease?”
She grinned and shook her head. “Oh no, this is more than a strip tease.”
I couldn’t really get my head around it, I mean, I understood what it was she was going to be doing, but I didn’t really get how you got a job like this in the first place. “Was there like an interview or something? Did you have to audition?”
“Not yet. I just called today and talked to the manager, at least I guess she was the manager. She said I had to come audition for her at her office.” Tara took another big swig of wine.
“A woman, huh?
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