missrenie: (Default)

I think the problem is that you think you know me
You think you have me all figured out
that you know what makes me tick and switch on
but you don't
you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.

I told you that I was tried, overwhelmed exhausted and needed a break from life for a moment.  You diagnosed me as simply being in need of orgasm. That you would deliver this “prescription”.  That you would make me feel things I have never felt before and that I was gonna release and relax.  Have peace within myself. 


…News flash...

your dick can't do that honey. 

1 that is something I have to give myself
2 that place you talk about getting me to , that momentary state of bliss you see fit to challenge yourself to bring me is a place you and I will never go

I told you how to get me there
I gave you hand written specific directions
go for my mind, my spirit, my divine and my body will follow

but you think you know better
you think you know me better than I know myself

you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.
and you’re not interested in that are you?
You just want my orgasm to be some trophy on your fucking shelf.

Like it's a competition between you and all the others that have come before.
It's not a competition but sense that's the only language you seem to understand
know that you have been weighed, measured found lacking and subsequently  disqualified.  For multiple reasons but this in particular:  For telling me what my body, my being needs and for having the audacity to tell me what I have and haven’t felt.


I've been in the game since 16 sugah.  I've  had plenty of climaxes and I know
beyond a doubt
that on that one late afternoon in the early fall of 1999
right as the sunset was casting blood orange slices of light through half lidded venetian blinds,  as the sweltering heat wrapped me from toe to hip from hip to tit from tit to crown  that this was different
Movement, breath and sound and sense different

and to tell me that I was mistaken, misinformed or otherwise ignorant of what it was makes you look like a jack ass ... trust me honey I know my own body.  I've lived in it longer than you have ten second man... see you don't even get a Mr. in front of your name any more.


Because you’re not worth it* no one is worth it*.


Dre was right

For a while there my inner Goddess went on vacation. 
I sent her off
I actually packed her bags, bought her a ticket and pushed her on the plane because I could not indulge in my most recent delusions if I didn’t.
You see I didn’t fall for you I fell for a false sense of security.


She’s back now
I’m back now
and it’s time to clean house.









*It=  the wiliness to compromise or change myself, my actions, my goals in order to accommodate some other person in an attempt to be accepted, embraced, “understood” or “loved” in varying degrees.

missrenie: (Default)

I'm sweating like a pig, everything hurts, I'm tired, it's late I have 5 more minutes to go but I think I'm gonna call it quits besides I look like an idiot doing this.
    Everyone else is too busy with themselves to notice you hun
To notice me huffing and puffing pathetically on this machine
    They are panting too

I can't breathe
    It's an illusion

my chest is closing
    It's an illusion

I can't breathe
    Force it in two sharp inhales

It hurts
    One long exhale

My heart is going to explode
    Two sharp inhales

I can't keep this up
    past the chest

My throat is dry
    Into the core

My head hurts
    Exhale the pain

I can't do this
    You can

Fuck you I won't
    You fuck yourself if you don't…In the end it isn't them. It isn't even the weight, it isn't about the health. Its about you. It's about you rejecting         yourself. It's about you accepting me

You're deluded
    And you're afraid to admit it

Admit what?
    Admit that you want to be me. That you want to feel good. Admit that you are strong enough, worthy enough, wonderful enough

I know all those things I just don't have to be an arrogant ass about it.
    That's a fantastic line of bullshit. You're a goddamn goddess and you know it.

Screw you "We come nearest to being great when we are great in humility." -Rabindranath Tagore said that… Zen Master Li Yuansong stated that enlightenment can come only after humility - the wisdom of realizing one's own ignorance, insignificance and lowliness, without which one cannot see the truth. So like I said before you're fucking deluded.
    Then consider this your enlightenment sugah:
    Humility: noun 1. a disposition to be humble; a lack of false pride Keyrod being false.
    Humility: one of many things that help keep your proverbial cosmic cup empty and open to receive the transcendental radio waves.
    Humility: Negative calorie, zero cosmic cup space when compared to arrogance and pride.
    But here's a news flash honey. Your cup is full to the brim and not with humility. Its full with self loathing,contempt,detestation, disgust,
    dislike, enmity, hatred, repugnance, revulsion don't mistake the malice you hold within your self against yourself for modesty "Humility is n
    ot only meek but benevolent and forgiving. It seeks to overcome evil with good". A saint said that. Your self abashment is evil. What you
    have is not humility it is hate and that is a horrible disservice to yourself, to everyone one who knows you and to anyone who has yet to
    know you. So like I said before:
    It isn't even the weight, it isn't about the health
    Its about you
    It's about you rejecting yourself
    It's about you accepting me
    Because I am you
    And I am strong enough, worthy enough, wonderful enough
    I'm a god damn goddess and I know it.

The funny thing (ah snap funny , wtf funny, funny in a "I did leave the curling iron on, on top of that dry stack of leaves in the garage next to the gas tank way funny)
Is that I do know it
I force in two sharp breaths
I exhale out the pain in my chest, the throb in my head, the ache in my heart
I match my rhythm to that of the music
I lower my head, lean forward
I push with everything I've got
I'm running in place
As I am moving forward
@ high speed
Ready to collide with myself

I do 30 minutes more
And so can you.
15 pounds or 150, whether it be school, work, play, a mountain to climb an addiction to overcome, a fear to face, and belief to displace…. You are strong enough, worthy enough, wonderful enough. To give up, to believe that you are less is a disservice to yourself, to everyone one who knows you and to anyone who has yet to know you. Shine brightly and fuck the rest… just do 30 minutes, 30 seconds, 30 steps more.
missrenie: (Default)


My hands were shaking which was odd because I did not feel that nervous . I remember pressing my back against the cold wall to slow down my heart… to shock me back into a calm and steady breath. I remember holding onto Lacey's hand and not wanting to let her go. I remember Stephanie's feet leaving the ground for a moment as she sang out the glitter in her eyes, the smile on her lips.

-Tell me cunt
-I say it then you say it cunt!

Then Lacey was gone… on the stage… a world away. Her hand on her tiny waist as she turned to the side and shifted her leather clad hips suggestively, winking at the crowd. There was Stephanie at my side then a quick reassuring touch. The lights went down. I went up. I closed my eyes and breathed in….

I felt the stillness of the room
something in me shifted…
something slipped out of me
and then something slipped in.
I felt the warmth of the lights on my face
I exhaled
I opened my eyes
And I wasn't just the Moaner... the pvc clad Dominatrix
I was myself
More of myself then I had been in the past seven years.
And I was loving every moment of it.

I loved watching the slender women who at first looked at me with eyes that said "I know her fat ass is not wearing that!!!" change from shock to admiration
I loved the way rubenesque women looked up at me I could see the embarrassment give way to a heck yes… big beautiful women represent!!!
I loved pausing for the laughter
And making them wait for the next line.
I loved pacing the stage like it was a jungle and I was the sole predator
I loved the way people blushed or turned away when I looked directly at them.
I loved staring them down

The way a mousy 40ish woman fidgeted and her eyes got big and wide when I said the lines "I discovered how deeply excited I got when other women moaned… when I was responsible for other women moaning"

I said it directly to her.

And then the moans
20 of them
I could hear the women in the crowd recognizing themselves in each one… I heard a few uh-ohs when I announced the next… felt their roars, heard the oh my gods, amens, hell yeahs!!!
They threw gasoline on an already well burning flame and my inhibition, my self doubt, my suppression, my lack overwhelming monumental lack of self confidence was left smoldering in the ashes.
By time I reached the "Surprise triple orgasm" I was in a state of euphoric abandon. I felt completely naked and exposed and I didn't quite give a damn.

And when it was all over.
I lifted myself up onto my feet
stopped my panting
And blew the audience a kiss
A thank you

Turned on my heels and sauntered off the stage without waiting for the lights to dim or the applause to end.

I got home around 2:30 am
pried out my contacts
got into the shower
let the water pour over me

I cried

I did not think that I could possibly get more out of being part of the Vagina Monologues as I did last year. I was totally, completely and thoroughly wrong.

Last year was a healing for me. Through the Coochie Snorcher I was able to pour out all that anger. I punctured a puss filled wound and was washed out cleansed and patched up.

I was raised to a "kind of heaven".
But this year…

I stayed in the shower for a long time… afraid that when I stepped out that I would lose something… that something that I found that night… afraid that it would drip off of me like the water, circle the drain or evaporate into the air.

When I finally got out of the shower I wiped the the mirror clear of the fog

And looked
And saw
And knew
That this is part of me now
I have returned to myself… and I am going beyond.

Thank you Tara for calling me two years ago to get me involved
Thank you Mara and Jean for giving me pointers on some of the moans.
Thank you San Jose Vaginas of 2007 for being the wonderful people that you are and helping me feel safe enough to let myself do this

Thank you Anne for providing the opportunity
Thank you Stephanie
for seeing this potential in me before I could see it in myself
for giving me a key
to a door
to a room
to a place
to a part of me that I had forgotten

missrenie: (Default)
I'm the moaner
I'm the moaner

I realized why I have been having such a hard time learning my lines
its not because I am frightened:
of preforming on stage
infront of a couple of hundred people
in a tight little pvc dress I have stashed in the back of the closet for
Halloween/ bank holidays/ birthdays and emergencies only

No...it's what comes before all that
the hours spent developing the character
figuring out how she moves, and breathes
taking off my own skin and slipping into hers
like a warm bath
warm moist voluptuous pulsing

She is a woman living her
eccentric, exceptional, divergent purpose

She is a not only a seeker
She is a finder

She is a kind of horticulturist
tending the most tender bloom

She is disciplined
but hungry

A calm, climatic, chaos controlled

And I was frightened of what it means to be her

Because I want so desperately to be her

A confident, calm, climatic, creative chaos controlled.

Normally I can just read something a few times a memorize it.
Its what got me through high school
but this time I couldn't every time I looked at the words on the paper
when I went to speak them aloud
my first thoughts were
this isn't me
I can't do this
It can't be believable
I won't be believable
It went on that way
While trying to read the lines I would avoid looking at myself in the mirror .
I was trying not to hear my own voice
separating it from me
the Moaner from myself
embarrassed, blushing, quite obviously horny as hell.
Just from the first lines
"I love vaginas, I love women. I do not see them as separate things"

I finally settled down and recorded the monologue onto my mp3 player on Monday and listened to it the whole day. Over and over and over again. At first I was startled and disturbed by the sound of my own voice. My voice was sexier than I felt I was or deserved to be. I always like to think of myself as sexy. In my own head. Where the little fragile image was safe from the outside word. I was embarrassed again. Uncomfortable not just because of it but because I was uncomfortable by it. I decided not to focus on it... decided to just approach it in a purely professional manner. I broke it down critqued myself, found pacing but it wasn't until later that night when I was in bed on the brink of sleep running the lines through my head that it clicked

"I love vaginas.
I love women
I do not see them as separate things"

I separate myself from my vagina, my sexuality. I have let myself be convinced that only the women on television and magazines could truly be outwardly sexy. It did not matter that I knew many women who were not that airbrushed ideal, women who I considered to be very sexy, and beautiful. I was still waiting to fit into a certain dress size before I gave myself permission to really fit into being a woman again... waiting to be "pretty" or what I had convinced myself to be "pretty"

"Video gurl" I am not!!!!
but thats okay
as a matter of fact it more than okay

The Moaner is not perfect, idealized beauty.
She is not the sum of her physical parts
The Moaner is in the mind
She is heady in the head
She is raw, sexual, confident
she is unapologetic
she doesn't quite give a fuck
well she does
but when she does she is showing women the door
through finding
A confident, calm, climatic, creative chaos controlled.

I'm the moaner
I'm the moaner
I'm the
missrenie: (Fatgurl@thegym)
I rolled out of bed this morning rather ungracefully for two reasons...

Reason Number One: I'm sleeping on a day bed with a trundle bed pushed up next to it. Both have comfortable yet temperamental air mattresses which Terick and I discovered on Tuesday night when he got his left shoulder wedged between the trundle and day bed while merely reaching over to rub my tummy after my most recent nightmare and 7am is way to early for something cold and metal to be pressed against my skin... unless it is of a high kink value and this was not one of those cases.

Reason Number Two : I felt extremely bloated. I'm still managing to surf the holiday binge wave via a combination of : other peoples procrastination (i.e. late holiday baking, late New Years Potluck at work, late removal of various holiday goodies from co-worker's household) and my own lack of will and weak rationalization (i.e. there are starving children in Africa who am I to turn up my nose at brie, smoked gouda, raspberry mocha cheesecake, hush puppies, fresh tamales, the most delicious Mexican beans on the Goddess's green earth, and the occasional non-diet coke.) Btw this wave is weakening in strength because the novelty of divergence from my life style change is wearing off and pepto bismo is a horrible after dinner chaser.

I mumble quietly to myself just to alert Jocko that I am awake and moving around the house... Jocko it my ex-neighbors dog. He's better company than some human beings that I know. I'm dog/house sitting while they are away. He's been moping around with a precious moments look in his big brown eyes that just breaks my heart because he misses his mommy and daddy. I wonder if Terick is like that when I am away...

I open the curtains to let in the early morning sun, heat up Jocko's breakfast, give him a good morning scratch for which I am rewarded with a hearty tail wag that stopped as so as my hands are one half inch away from him... at this point I am convinced that he is trying his hardest to stay depressed in hopes of getting some kind of treat. Then I jump into the shower for a brisk cold wake up and head into the guest room to get dressed

That's when it happened.

They have a rather nice sized mirror in the hallway you can see your entire body in it. I usually avoid these contraptions like the bubonic plague ,confused gay men trying to prove to me that they are straight, and ultra conservative born again Christian evangelicals and their children of the corn offspring but I was not able to today because I was still half asleep.

What I saw woke me up fully.

From underneath my pink and brown cotton nightgown appeared two lovely legs. I don't know if it had anything to do with the sunlight streaming in from behind me... but I noticed my legs for the very first time... Oh my goddess! I said to no one in particular... I doubt Jocko was paying attention as he was too busy trying to be depressed. "I have certifiably gorgeous gams, steamy sexy stems, beautiful mahogany voluptuous branches." At this point a heard Stefanie's disembodied voice from the living room say "I hate you".

I stayed in that mirror for at least five minutes turning this way and that in the morning light standing on the balls of my feet kicking, "vouge-ing", touching and other wise molesting my own legs. Up until now the things I liked about myself were pretty minor... my eyes, my lips, my fingers, my pink nails, a couple of months ago I feel deeply in eros with my dred loc'd hair, but aside from that the biggest thing were my breasts because ... well they are breasts for goodness-sakes... what's not to like about them (Terick think's im obsessed with them and way to possessive of them).

But to fall in love with my legs is a positive sign... that I am coming back to me... coming back to loving me and not someone's opinion of me. It's a sign that I am seeing myself, as a woman. As a beautiful woman. Instead of looking first for faults. When I look in the mirror I normally see uneven skin tone, stray hairs that need to be shaved, patches where foundation should be applied, fat tummy, thunder thighs and an ass too large for a few peoples good... and I am torn between running back to bed and hiding underneath the covers with strong urge to become a social recluse or skipping work to put in overtime at the gym.

But not this morning. This morning I was torn between getting to work on time and making love to my new self as a result of this new discovery....

I was a little late ;)
missrenie: (Default)

 /ˈkɒnsɪˌkwɛns, -kwəns/consequence
1. the effect, result, or outcome of something occurring earlier: The accident was the consequence of reckless driving.
2. an act or instance of following something as an effect, result, or outcome.
3. the conclusion reached by a line of reasoning; inference.
4. importance or significance: a matter of no consequence.
5. importance in rank or position; distinction: a man of great consequence in art.

When ever someone asked me for their advice on many situations I always replied that in the end the only thing they had to think about is wether or not they could live the the consequence of doing or not doing the act or acts in question.

    But there is still fear.  Still reservation.  Still anger.  Still pain.  Still a longing for stillness.

    Am I on the edge of my own destruction.
                                        my own remaking
                                        my own rebirth
  And now as I lean over the edge and prepare to look down I wonder what I will see
 either the wonders of the universe within or the abyss                                                                                                         

    Maybe I shouldn't look
    Maybe I shouldn't leap
    Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that entire taco salad with sourcream dressing at 11:45 last night

    Now I have cramps aaaaaaaaaaaaand gas
    mfing consequenses


Sep. 20th, 2006 12:10 pm
missrenie: (Default)

After a seven year vacation to Goddess knows where
it returned
last night
or rather
this morning
2:47 am
I stumbled into the bathroom
looked down
and there it was
the best belated birthday present ever
my period



Waking up

Sep. 19th, 2006 04:06 pm
missrenie: (Default)
Ever touched something

something great
something wonderful
and had it slip out of your hands
you could blame the people, places and things around you
say there was too much distraction
but in the inside you're mad because
you know
and you knew then
when it was important to know such things
that you were ultimately in control
because ultimately you are
and you with your powerfully, perfect, poignant self let it slip
and all that anger
with the world
is merely you
trying to reflect
what you found in your own reflections
away from yourself
like a bad smell that makes you want to vomit

I took a wiff
and I woke up.

My voice

Sep. 15th, 2006 04:54 pm
missrenie: (Default)

As much as I hated the south

I loved it
It permeated every pore of my body
like some sick and twisted hentia monster
burrowing into every unprotected orifice
and I fought it as it fucked me
but deep inside
I loved it

One of the side effects of this deprived romance was my voice
I used to love my voice
it was
sultry and damp and wet
deep and husky
like a song sung in a smoky blues bar at 2am in the morning
while two lovers fondle eachother in a darkened corner

When I moved to Colorado I lost my voice
I told Terick
don't you understand... my voice was me!
He said
you'll have to find another way to be
I said
but I've lost it... I've lost my voice.. Myself.
He said
that was not you... you are who you are not your voice thats is just a part of you.
And when I moved out to California I convinced myself I was not worthy of it in the first place

But losing my voice was only a side effect of a greater diseases.
PCOS, Chronic Depression, Obsessive Compulsion, and General "I Can't"
which translates to shaving the hair from your face once a day
which translates to eating uncontrollably and then throwing up in the night
which translates to gaining 120 pounds in 6 years
which translates to feeling like crap
which translates to feeling nothing
which translates to cutting your own wrists just to feel
which translates to wallowing in your own stinking piles of disillusion
which translates into becoming a walking tumor

but something else happened too.

I could not look myself in the eyes
when I looked in the mirror I saw something there that frightened me
I could not look in my own eyes... I could not speak with my own voice
My voice was not just something that came from my lips.
It came from my eyes, from my soul
My voice was deeper
my voice
my sexuality
my feminine
my power
my root
my cave....


For the past 6 years I have sounded like a little girl, scared, timid, sweet, obliging bullshit.
For the past 6 years silenced my voice by choking on the fear of being who I am made to be

But not now
last night
I found my voice
while he was inside of me
even though this has nothing to do with him
he just happened to be lucky enough to be there for the ride
I found my voice
and it came as I came
and deep from the south of me

This morning as I looked in the mirror
I saw me staring back and I did not look away
"ah fuck yeah" I breathed exhaling against the glass
I breathed in my voice "We got that bitch good didn't we"
That bitch?
The person who I pretended to be for 6 years and longer maybe
the tumor the weak cancer that surrounded the goddess that I am at the core
"oh yeah honey we got rid of her good didn't we?"

I moaned into the mirror
in my voice
a voice like
a song sung in a smoky blues bar at 2am in the morning
while two lovers fondle each other in a darkened corner
my voice
my sexuality
my feminine
my power
my root
my cave....



missrenie: (Default)

November 2011

1314151617 1819
202122 23242526


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 05:00 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios