missrenie: (Default)
Started listening to this
found it a bit depressing
but then I made it to the end :)

missrenie: (Default)

"I have high standards of those I associate with and I expect you to have the same.

Only SELECT people are worthy of your attn.

You are special, and those wishing you to grace their presence should be special too. Don't sell yourself short. XOXO"
~Daddy Dom's response when we spoke about me seriously playing with another Dom



Its crazy because You have told me this in some way shape or form for the better part of a year and it is just now starting to seep in.


It is such a simple concept. 
Such a simple idea. 
But at the same time it is so heavily loaded. 


Somewhere in the course of my life I was taught to believe that I was not worthy, or special, or priceless. 
Somewhere along the course of my life I was taught to take what I could get, to settle, to accept the bird in hand, the cards dealt.

I was taught to yield, kowtow, turn the other cheek, be meek,suffer silently, sing quieter, shine less, shut up and no matter how much I take my clothes off I can't seem to strip that out of me.


I should not be embarrassed at the sound of my own beautifully trained voice echoing back at me from auditorium walls.
I should not be surprised by an appreciative stare as I strut by on wild black stilettos


I should not be so hungry for validation
for a job well done
for an ascetic compliment
for an act of kindness


I know I did well.
I know I am beautiful.
I know I am a good person.
I know that I have earned this person I am today. 


So yeah childhood and church taught me one thing.  And You are teaching me another.


There is conflict between the opposing sides but I am here grabbing hold to Your point of view and trying desperately to pull my self free of this quick sanded trap I've been floating in so precariously for so long.


I feared that if I moved I would drown in arrogance, choke on my own vanity.  But I can see now with this Dawning notion that there is a middle path. 

I'm still frightened though.  Because as You pull me up, as I kick free I can see myself though Your eyes. 
What I see is wonderous vision that is burning itself into me,
what I see keeps me from turning back into the old me,
what I see keeps me moving forward and changing and becoming better.
What I see makes me submit, makes me strong, makes me weak, makes me open, makes me responsible.


Responsible for every action and accountable for every consequence...


What I see through Your eyes is me
As a brilliant shining amazing person of excellence
Who must do brilliant shining amazing things of excellence.


Anything less is unacceptable
Anything less is death



I always understood what Mairanne Williamson said in that famous quote... but because of my experiences with You I can now embody it.  Because of You I can see it for myself.

You will always have my gratitude, my love, my devotion...
Your young lady~~~




"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." ~ Mairanne Williamson
missrenie: (Default)

It was a hard thing

and if I was not so exhausted I would have fought myself. 

 

It was a hard thing

and if I was not so defeated  I would have broken both tooth and nail  trying to swim in this shit filled river called denial proclaiming all the while that it smelled of fresh milk and roses.

 

It was a hard thing… but I did it.

I pulled myself out.

 

 

Now I feel hollowed out and worn out. 

Now I feel groggy and yet oh so electric

Awakening from that drugged stupor.

Aching as my blood clears itself form the heroine I injected into it. 

Poison self poured into my own open veins visa vi your touch, your voice, your face, your body.

 

you.

 

I was still willing, wanting and waiting until I realized how afraid you were.

Until I realized how afraid you have always been.

 

I deserve to be loved with the same ferocity with which I love, with which I live.  To accept less is a slap in the face to everything I have accomplished over the last year.  It is a direct mockery to every sacrifice I have made.  It is disservice to every person that has helped raise me into this state of being.

 

It is a hypocritical crime of the worst kind against all those people who I have told repeatedly to take their power back.

 

I took mine back

Its this foreign feral thing

I’m swagging from head to toe.

It’s in my shoes and I’m stepping taller

It’s wrapped around my waist and I’m standing straighter

It’s a crown on my brow and its making me glow

 

I’m re-incorporating it into my non-corporal self

 

I’m putting it in a special place

 

That place where you once were.

 

And you’ll never fucking touch it again.

missrenie: (peekaboo)

As Ariadne’s  voice guided us down into the trance like state, another voice came to me.  The voice of my mother.  You do not need a man.  The only man you need is God.  He will never leave, he will never hurt you.  You have no need for mortal men.

It was a chant, a command a warning and it grew persistant until I came to Them
Baron Samedi and  Maman Brigitte. 
The Baron on my left.  Maman on my right.  Both in masks.  We were on the streets of New Orleans during carnival but the sounds were muted as if heard through a wall.  They took me from modern day to olden day to the swamps and jungles and back again.  A dance upon the earth. 

Suddenly Maman Brigitte was gone and it was just He and I in a waltz.  He in black tuxedo with blood red cape, a top hat, his face hidden behind a mask.

What do you look like?

~That is not for you to see

Please?


He spun me around to a mirrored wall.  And stood behind me.  He was tall at least two head heights taller than I and his arms were lanky at his sides. With his left hand he removed the mask and in it place stood another.  His lips black curled back over stained teeth as he laughed and then thrust his right hand through my body, through my stomach and in his palm he held an apple and curled around his wrist was a bright green snake. That writhed and held tightly to Him trying to get back in.  But He hissed and the snake fell at my feet and the apple decayed into black powder.  He withdrew his hand and I felt surprisingly full there, warm.

 

He spit into the black powder and with it tattooed  snakes on my upper arms.  I followed him to the place of my childhood.  The two story gunshot that sat beneath the oaks on Alexander. It was a sunny afternoon and quite. The birds the breeze the sound of the clock but no people When I looked around the Baron was not with me.  I went around the back of the house.  Up the railroad rock driveway, past the gate and up the stairs into the kitchen.  I knew He was waiting for me inside, on the second floor in the room my brother and I had shared.  As I walked up the red staircase I felt myself becoming younger and younger until I was a child again, seven years old.  The door was open and I stepped inside and there before me was the a person a thing? Cloaked in black huddled in the far left corner.

 

What do you see?

~Nothing

What do you see?

 

I looked down at my feet and I remembered.  I remember this house, this moment this memory.  When mother took us to see the house for the first time it was an lazy afternoon, children were at school no cars were passing on the street.  I snuck away to the upstairs and I saw something that I can not remember.  What I do remember is screaming until my throat hurt, not being able to move, a shiny black bug with a yellow stripe skitter across my shoe and then nothing.

 

What do you see?

A bug

Then why did you scream?

It wasn’t a bug… my mind made it a bug I don’t remember what I saw.

When you remember the door will be open.

 

He stood and opened His cape. 

Come I take you to the Other.

I stepped into His arms

The cloak closed around me

 

Blackness gave way to bight light, the subtle itch of cloth to softness and I was laying alone in the woods. The grass was a supple cool blanket beneath my warm skin.

 

The God came upon me He was younger than I no more than 20 and naked.  He skin changing from the palest ivory to the deepest Grecian olives then blue black mahoganies. He hair from cornsilk to black dred roots and back again.  But his eyes always the same.  Viridian, wise, zoetic.

He lay besides me and touched my skin.  I felt myself awaken to his touch and he smiled… pleased.

I have come to you before, but you have denied Me repeatedly.  Are you ready now to receive me?

I had barely opened my mouth to respond before He was atop me You do not receive.  You give and give, but you do not receive.  It is because of your masculine energy and your denial of its overwhelming presence that you can not connect with your feminine energy.  You seek the Goddess, you seek to be goddess, to be mother.  The only way to attain this is through Me and all my manifestations.

 

And I watched as His face changed to every man I had ever known.  For bad and for better.  And in each face he showed me the gifts that I have received, the lessons I have learned.  From my birth father the ability to charm snakes, from my brother the importance of earning a thing, from my paraine the pitfalls& pleasures of success, from my most loved teacher the patience to nurture a flower to bloom, from Troy adoration and its false illusions, from Jon the power of speaking my truth, from Ron the effect of fear upon the human heart, from Sloan the bitter taste of one sided desire and the penalties that arise from exploiting it, from Jim the importance hold to my self worth, from Neil loving enough to let go,  from Terick who I am not, from Frank the will and discipline to be who I dare and dream to be.

 

On and on it went faster and faster until all faces became one face.  His face.  Unique, beautiful and terrible, young and old, dark and light, alien and familiar. A combination of men I have met and men I have yet to know. And slowly with great gentleness He entered me, and I was comfortable as if He had always been there as if I were shaped to fit Him.  He smiled Apollo’s smile and whispered in my ear. 

Loving me does not make you weak… and he paused before he added with another grin this time knowing and full of mischief … and it does not make you a Christian either. Receive my love in what ever form it comes in.  And He kissed me with the all the forcefulness of summer until Aridane’s voice called me home.

 

It occurs to me that I took my mothers words to heart You do not need a man.  The only man you need is God.  He will never leave, he will never hurt you.  You have no need for mortal men.  But she spoke of the Christian God.  A God that I was taught to fear.  A God whose stories are laced with vengeance, cruel tests and double standards,  a fierce unapproachable figure, who loved me because I was one of His creations not because I was me.  I ran from this God.  I ran from Him and into the arms of the Goddess.

 

And as I studied the way of the Goddess I was introduced to a new God.  I denied Him as well because of my distaste and distrust of masculine divinity.  I became unbalanced in my spirituality.  I became unbalanced in my relationships. 

Several things have been happening in my life which has forced me to face my relationship with masculine energy.  From myself, to the men in my life to my spirituality.

 

Last night during Aridane’s meditation I had breakthrough, I had release and I made peace.  

 

I feel strange today.  This type of balance is something I will have to get used to, learning what it is like to really walk with two feet.  I feel vulnerable, and innocent and more open than I have in a long time.  I want to curl up and be held, I want to hide away because I am sensitive to everything.  He was right.  Opening to the idea of receiving masculine divinity has exposed a softer side, new born and yielding, gentler, quieter, calmer but in no way weak.

My mother was wrong~

Background

Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:07 pm
missrenie: (Default)

You passed by me today, asked me what my weekend was gonna be like and when I tell you, you laugh in that condescending way you have
a disparaging way meant to degrade my lifestyle and choices,
a contemptible way meant to corrupt  my hard earned social and spiritual freedoms

When you laugh like this I am surprised

I am surprised because your disguised jealousy and your lonely misplaced aggressions do not effect me. And I am glad...

I'm glad that song by Lily Allen was playing in the background...
you know "fuck you... fuck you very much"
It filled the silence nicely as I merely smiled brightly. 
It sang along at every pause while you reminded me of out dated goals that I had listed in October when my life was agonizing instead of amazing. 
It replied in its chipper up beat way making a shield of brightly colored wings around me that you couldn't get though,
that lifted me up above you
and I could see that it annoyed you.

Cause even if you couldn't catch the words of the song
You caught the drift of what I was saying
"I'm happy now, I've found where and who I need to be.  Don't worry your little head about me sugah."

And I turn away
turned up the music
and listen to you fade way into the background.



Look inside
Look inside your tiny mind
Now look a bit harder
Cause we're so uninspired, so sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor

Do you
Do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful?
Cause there's a hole where your soul should be
Your losing control of it and it's really distasteful

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate and it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate and it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch
 
missrenie: (Default)
 



Dre dropped the book infront of me while I sat twisting my unkempt locs back into some sort of reasonable neatness.  It’s been a long time since I have inquired as to just why she gives me something to read/do.  Everything she seems to point out to me has been relevant.  It is as if the universe sends me messages that I too busy fucking around to notice and she has the lovely inclination to grab my head and twist my neck so that I stop and take a look see. 

I was quite resistant the first few times.  But after a while I realized that this process is a lot less painful if I just accept it. 

This time  it is a book on birthdays and astrology.  I open it up to age 27 & 28 and I am blown away, caught up in a feeling a overwhelming relief and warmed by a deep sense of connection to the vast universe around me.

This wild trip through the rabbit hole, this turmoil between healer and hedonist, this casting off of my old self and creation of the new, this painful passing, isolation, insomnia, this fit of exhibitionism, excitement, acceptance, all the serendipity of the last few months, all this death and rebirth, every glorious bit of greatness and gore that has been astronomical is merely astrological.

Saturn Returns… with a fucking vengeance I might add and with it comes cleansing, purification, manifestation, actualization, maturity, responsibility and the confidence to live the life appropriate for me on my terms and no one else’s. 
It has meant the ending of old relationships,
180 to 359 high speed shifts in perception
So far it’s been humiliating and humbling,
exotic and empowering
and if I am correctly informed a completely normal part of the growing process.

As chaos of my 27th year winds up to the adventure of the 28th I am ever so excited to see what Life has in store because for a while there Life was giving it to me hard…
full on  bent over the barrel without the lube hard.  I’ve recently bitch slapped her, flipped the script and taken top and now...

now we are in madly, absolutely, positively in love
and pregnant with beautiful expectant possibility~~
missrenie: (Tree of Knowledge)
I am happy
this emptiness right here
this emptiness right now
is a temporary thing.

Happy people cry too
even if their tears are confused, missed and taken for laughter
Happy people scream too
even though their pain is mistaken for con and fused with fervor

I am a happy person
and this emptiness is a temporary thing

this Emptiness
where my Worth once stood
Worth I so carelessly gave away
Worth that with an equal carelessness was wasted away,
until my hallowed became hollow  there
once warm womb turned temporary torrid tomb…

Stand not at this grave a weep for me
Neither grieve for me
Nor hold wake with me
instead
give me your noise
lend me your laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can cry

Soak me in the sun of your warm smiles,
transmute this sea of tears into fertile spring rains rich with the beauty of our combined joy.
Lend me the rhythm of your stamping feet
turn bitter grapes of sorrow into sweet wines of sacred wisdom, a precious ambrosia garnered from life’s painful lessons
Pour it over this rotted earth
let me use your bright colors as inspiration to re-landscape my barren greedy glorious garden

Grieve not for me
nor hold wake with me

give me  noise
lend me  laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can
cleanse
create
and cry

for I am a happy person
and this
this is but a temporary thing.
missrenie: (Default)

I couldn't  bring myself to put into words what I was feeling while we were together. Because whoever read it would hate you.  And no matter how much I would verbally acknowledge that it was only my side of the story I would write it like it was the ultimate truth.

Because for me it is the truth

I have to do this... get this out so I can wash our blood off my hands and be done with it.  I will accept my role of excutionor of our relationship, of your sweet innocence, I will be the villan if I must.  If it means gaining my freedom, my sanity I will slit the throat of what we called out love, I will burn the corpse and I will bury it. 
 

 
But you know what?  Despite all the horrible things


I thank you for showing me how strong I truly am
I thank you for forcing me into a corner. So I could learn to fight with my back against the wall
I thank you for showing me what hunger feels like.  It will never again catch me unguarded
I thank you for showing me what lies love can tell.  You cleared my vision, cured me of a childish fancy
I thank you for shaping me, hardening me, putting me through the fire.  I am now crucible, I am now uncrushable.
I thank you for stripping me of everything that I once was.  Because what I was was not fit to be measured.
I thank you for helping/forcing me to become what I am today.   Because what I am today is without limitation.




There was a woman I met. 
A crone tucked away near the steps of the cathedral in Jackson Square
I was 17... it was three months before I had even laid eyes on you. 

She told me that we would met. 
That you would help me by hurting me.  That we would have three children, and that we would be married before I finished school, that I would leave you some day because you would turn me into a woman but you yourself would remain a boy.  That you would lead me to the crossing and I would leave and take my children with me.



I thought I had gotten around it because even though she described you to a perfectly I became infertile, I never finished school, we never got married.

But she was right. 
The children were misinterpreted by me. 
They are talents, gifts and you did give me three they are Strength, Courage & Wisdom
We were never married in a public office or before our peers but we exchanged vows.  You before your god and me before mine
I did indeed become a woman while you remained a boy.
I am at the crossing now I carry my children in my blood, in my heart, in my spirit.





I had a dream the night before I moved out
one dream, vivid and stark and frightened me at first
but I understand it now

I was a dead woman on the river's bank
I had stepped into the ferryman’s boat cradling  three golden orbs
I could see you standing upon the shore watching me slip away into the fog...
the ferryman whispered in my ear to wash my hands, to wash my hands
and I do
leaving ribbons of red in my wake.
and as I washed I watch you.
You have neither moved nor breathed.  And I am begging you to give me a sign
to tell me something, to show some emotion so that I can jump ship and swim to you
but the ferryman grabs my shoulder and tells me to turn away, to turn away lest I become a pillar of salt
and I do

I look out in front of me and I am blinded there is an aching pain as the orbs glow and encase me.  And I am lifted up and out and I feel everything at once a moment of clarity that I can not remember or put into words no matter how hard I try.


Last Saturday
Right as I was leaving...
as I stood in the entry way...
as removed my key from its chain and placed it in the bowl by the door
I faltered.

my feet were heavy
my heart ached
and I looked for a sign

I heard Ron's voice from the doorway, the drawling nonchalance, calming, soothing like this was any other day.
"Don't look back Renie you'll turn into a pillar of salt"
and I turned around
and I faced the day
the gentle rain outside
a river falling from the sky
free falling
free like me
and I screamed one short, violent cry as the door clicked close behind me.

And in it was sadness, and happiness, and pain and pleasure and joy and relief and
Strength
Courage
and Wisdom

and it hurt... but now I can see the world stretch open wide and vast before me. Full as the harvest moon, ripe as the perfect fruit and I am reintroduced to me, reborn in this reality, realized fully and finally at peace, finally happy to be me...

finally  free.


The list

Oct. 10th, 2008 11:20 am
missrenie: (Default)

You should write a list. 

 

I inform him without looking at him that I have no intention of writing down every bad thing that happened in my relationship.

 

I went back to typing.  A few moments had passed before I realized that he had not replied to my remark, nor had he moved.  He just stood there looking at me.  I turned my chair to face him and I looked up him with what I imagined to be defiance. 

He stared back at me with all the annoying impassivism of a vulcan but when he spoke it was low, thoughtful and without condescension.

 

You should write a list.

-I don’t want to

I understand it hurts. But when you see him again.  And you are going to see him again.  You may do something…

-Stupid?

Less intelligent than your norm

-Stupid… like forget everything that happened between us and go to bed with him, get involved again.

Less intelligent than your norm…  You’re a wonderful woman and any man would be a fool to mess up with you.  He doesn’t deserve you. 

-That’s a nice thing to say.  But I’ve done things wrong too you know.  You only know my side of it... I’m not as wonderful and deserving as you think I am.

I’ve been where you are right now. Write the list. 

 

The whole time he had never raised his voice.  And while I could barely look at him he had never taken his eyes off of me.  I felt naked, I felt weak, I felt guilty, I felt undeserving, I felt embarrassed.  I felt like an idiot.
Partially because I was defending, holding on to, believing in a relationship that almost left me ruined.
Partially because it was unrealistically dramatic,  unsettlingly romantic and uncomfortably exposing  to be talking to him like this.
When I was able to face him directly the impassive mask was gone.  And in its place was a look of genuine concern and I knew what it was like to be completely disarmed and alarmed at the same time.

He wasn’t being nice
He wasn't being sweet
He wasn't trying to collect on a rebound

He was being honest

 

I wrote the list
It took over two weeks
It was an ugly ordeal
In the end I had to rip out half my heart  in order to drag myself from this river of denial I had been drowning in. 

I’m not used to the air yet and while it’s still hard to breathe sometimes…

                                                                      its no where near as hard as it used to be.


 


missrenie: (Default)
I'm grateful because I have a supportive and loving life partner
I'm grateful because I have wonderful friends who accept me for who I am, encourage me to be better and call me out compassionately when I am wrong
I am grateful because I am learning to listen… about damn time huh?
I am grateful because I am alive
I am grateful because as long as I am alive I can do
I am grateful because I can do what I want to do
I am grateful because I am in school working toward my dreams … about damn time
I am grateful because I have a job that I actually like to pay for that school.
And now
I am grateful because I just found out that I can do my 56 hours of externship at my place of work after hours
Now I just have to buy a chair
They are expensive
But that is what e-bay and craigslist are for
And I am grateful for that too

The truth.

Jul. 11th, 2007 04:08 pm
missrenie: (Default)
"You're lying
about something", she said as she held her hand over my neck. I could feel the reiki moving through her and into me. A heartbeat formed in my throat. Pulsing, throbbing "Or is your throat sick?"
"My throat has been a little sick, a little scratchy."

The truth is that I was lying
About a lot of things
Important things

See the truth is this, this thing that I do not want to look at. The truth means questions and answer with messy routes to get to them. Straight forward as those answers are… they may still cause heads to rolls, feelings to get hurt, illusions shattered into tiny shards of sand, dreams dashed dramatically against razor pointed proverbial rocks (not all my dreams… other peoples dreams too). And I just feel like…
Well
Damn

I already waded through a big pile of bullshit and now that I reached the other side and scrambled up the hill I hoped to see a spa treatment fit for at least a demi-goddess instead I find another mind blowing pile of bull. I guess I have a lot more to learn… or better yet I have to apply to my life the things that I have learned. So yeah I'm not Jedi yet but damn Yoda can't you cut a gurl some slack?

This truth thing touches every part of my life

Its not lies that I told other people… I used to lie a lot as a child and as a young adult because I wanted people to like me. No matter how much I dressed in multiple layers of black with matching onyx nail lacquer and shied away from who I considered to be the brain washed masses. I wanted to be liked and loved.
Since accepting this and growing up a bit and realizing that so what if every one does not like me I stopped lying… so much… It's still kinda hard to tell certain people when some article of clothing, collectible trinket, or behavior is the reason the word ugly was created

No
It's lies that I told myself… about myself that are getting to me. That tasty yet empty meal of delusions
Appetizer: Denial
Soup Course: Luke warm serving of Settling
Main Course: Self Destructive Behaviors
And for Dessert: Anything that you can convince yourself it true (which is harder to get rid of than cellulite)
And its all coming back up
And it stinks and burns

I knew when I started this whole… "Living my life to my fullest potential" thing that it was going to be an experience that words could not quite capture. This is not a singular experience. Every one has gone through it in some degree or form or fashion. It is different for everyone and in its purest essence it is the same. I have watched the people that I have admired struggle through it and emerge as (again a loss for words)
I'm not depressed or even daunted

I'm just tired

The truth takes everything from you
Things that you think you need
The truth takes everything from you
And leaves just you.
A frighteningly beautiful limitless you .
It's just a difficult detox
Its uncomfortable.

And at this moment and in this now I just want someone to hold back my hair for me.
missrenie: (Default)
I'm the moaner
I'm the moaner
moooooooooo
ahhhhhhhhh
nerrrrrrrr


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
inside



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
unleashing
releasing
unbinding
through finding
inhibition
emancipation
reclamation
A confident, calm, climatic, creative chaos controlled.
And
so
am
I

I'm the moaner
I'm the moaner
I'm the
moooooooooo
ahhhhhhhhh
nerrrrrrrr
missrenie: (Default)

Sittin' on the front porch
Ice cream in my hand
Meltin' in the sun
All that chocolate on my tongue

And that's good enough reason to live
Good enough reason to live

Sittin' in the bathtub
Hi-fi playin' low
Diggin' all that green
Well you must know what I mean

And that's good enough reason to live
Good enough reason to live

If I die young
At least I got some chocolate on my tongue
If I die young
'Least I got some chocolate on my tongue

Sittin' in the front seat
Good girl in my arms
Smilin' in my eyes
Gettin' me all hypnotized

And that's good enough reason to live
Good enough reason to live

If I die young
At least I got some chocolate on my tongue
If I die young
'Least I got some chocolate on, chocolate on my tongue
If I die young
At least I got some chocolate on my tongue
molasses


it does not matter what I should feel
I learned that lesson long ago
but what matters is what I feel
and how I choose to feel
To be completely honest I am a little heartbroken
not angry because she can not help the fact that she is not bisexual
she can not help that at all.
No more than I can help being so
But that does not change the fact
that I am heartbroken
more than a little.
And I want to cry
not from rejection
but because I need her so much
I want to cry because I can not tell her  this
because it will break her heart.
I want to cry because
I need to hold her and kiss her and touch her
I know I can still do all that
just not in the same way.

I am not upset at Terick for being attracted to her
I can more than see why he is
I do not think that Terick would leave me for her either
because what we share is something that I have neither the art nor comprehension to fully explain
I want them to be together because I think it is good for them both.
I want them to be together not just for a fleeting moment but as long as possible
I want both of them
because he makes me whole and she makes me complete.

So I chose not to think of how she does not love me like that
because she does love me dearly
I chose instead to be thankful
Because for a brief moment in time I was able to touch her and love her, inhale her
I chose to be thankful
Because for a brief moment I got to watch her face glow with an orgasm
and listen to her heart beat with my ear against her naked breast
and breathe her fragrance
and drink of her essence
and taste her raspberry nipples
and feel her pleasure
and watch her grow bueatiful in her own eyes
I choose to be thankful
Because
at least
at least
I’ve had some chocolate on my tongue

Sounds surrounding me: Woods Brothers
missrenie: (Default)

I care too much about what other people think
I feel as if I am straddling some unmarked line
I am so uncomfortable with myself
I am really going to try to use I less
but its hard
to write I mean.

At my center
at my core I feel something that isn't me
something that wants me to stay the way I am
some poison

I get angry and mad and defensive
I jump to conclusions because I know that something is off inside of me
All that other bullshit is just smokescreens.
I pretend confidence, I pretend to love me
but I know... when I am alone.. when everyone goes home
and its just me and the thoughts rattling around in my head

I know
but

the strong woman inside of me is starting to punch through the weak one
the wild womun inside of me has a hold of the demons
and I feel like I am trapped in the storm... sometimes I am the wild womun the huntress the wolfe and others I am the demon, the rejected, the vile abasement
sometimes I am neither
and sometimes that feels worse

I know that I am not making sense to anyone but myself
but there is a war going on in my head
in my soul
in my heart
I'm trying so hard not to run from the storm
I'm trying to embrace it and let it change me

do or do not eh? there is no try
the floor that was my foundation has faded fast
as soon as I realized that I was walking on smoke screens

I began to fall
free fall

And someone may want to reach down and pull me up... the ones that love me the ones that care
but I've gotta pull myself up
because in the end when I look in the mirror

I want to know that I did it
that I crawled on my own hands in knees
I want to feel the ache the pain that comes with growth

I want to laugh like an insane woman as I spit back into that dark pit from wench I came.
The satisfactory sizzle  sound of water hitting the flames below.

I want to pull myself through that canal and be reborn
or die trying
and I will die trying
at least figuratively
and wether or not im ready for that
its happening.

And the me that is less than is scared shitless
And the me that is greater than ... I have yet to know.

Maybe

Oct. 1st, 2006 12:14 pm
missrenie: (Default)

 

I'm really begining to wonder if I really am who I think  I am.
I fancy myself as compassionate, intelligent, witty, slightly off and a generally nice person, with horrible spelling and other slightly aggravating quirks
Maybe I'm wrong
Maybe I talk too damn much.
Maybe I don't really help people
maybe I am just trying to make them into what I think they could/should be
maybe I get sucked into other people's lives because I don't want to even think of the possibility that I am a person whom I would
a:feel sorry for
b:hate with a passion
c:never notice in the first place

I have been blessed to come across some truly wonderful people in my life
and the moment that they told me that they thought that I was wonderful
I ran away and hid.
I've messed up alot of good things for myself
caused alot of my own "drama
I am afraid of wonderful, brillant ,happy people because im sure they will look at me one day  and say
 "Oh my how did you end up at this table ... you must be lost... I'll find someone to help you out of here."
But there is this big raging ego in me saying
"you have something to offer, you have something to give, you are worthy, you are goddess"
and then the other voice saying
"you are proud and vain and arrogant.  you are fake and cheap, trite as dayglo pink fanny pack strapped to the waist of an overtanned, over processed 70 year old"

I'm not writtng this in the hopes that someone tells me
"No Irene you're really swell."
I'm writing this because it is a real problem... because it is a real crutch.
My fear of not being the person I believe myself to be
My fear of being inadequate
My fear

The thing is that these wonderful people
are coming out of the goddamn woodworks now
and  I am caught
caught up in joy and tears and bursting with love for them
and I am caught
caught up in the fears of being not good enough

So I'm sorry
I'm sorry to everyone I ran from
I'm sorry to everyone who I didn't keep in contact with
I'm sorry  even though sorry isn't good enough
I guess I have to face the music
or the firing range ;)
Maybe
I hope
maybe this is part of growth.

 

 


missrenie: (Default)

I wonder if it happens to every woman....
Your going along just fine and then
bam
suddenly they are everywhere.

Babies... millions of them
You can't seem to escape them.

Every time you turn on the tv theres a godamn gerber add
Every time you turn on the radio there's some good mothering commercial
Every time you take the bus you either end up sitting across from one that is is just staring at you over his/her mother's shoulder or there is a picture of one glaring accusingly at you with its to- big- for- its- head eyes "why arent you a mommy yet!"

"BAH!!!" you say defiantly and out loud making the people next to you think you are insane.

But then
then
you get this naggin little itch that you try to ignore... you think "maybe it is something I ate" or " I knew I should have turned off that dumb ass lifetime station before I went to bed"
and it gets worse.

That little itch you used to get turns into a nudge and every time you see a baby your eyes glaze over and your head tilts to the side and your hands get a little warm...
Still you think its a bad piece of tofu or something and you continue along your merry little way believing that you are a complete person and trying to prove to all the wed soccer moms that your life is really great because you are not cleaning up baby vomit and cooking dinner for some chauvinist bastard with a stomach that hangs over his belt a huge bald spot you cant resist sticking things too and bad night time gas.

but then one of your friends pops one out
someone you know right... like personally and aside from stinky diapers  and losing 3 hours of sleep per night it really isn't as bad as you made it out to be
and that nudge turns into someone grabbing your ovaries... like every time you see a baby you get "ovary ache" (gasp)

No No No (you scream) This isn't me... this isn't what I want!!!!
I want:
raunchy sex
successfully achieved states of non violent semi-drunken euphoria,
muscle men with nipple rings,
free space in the back seat of my car,
a purse that is weighs under five pounds
and sharp edges on my furniture!!!!!!!!!

but then the baby smiles at you
(little bastard)
and you know something beyond yourself, in the brief span of that smile that "ovary ache" spreads up and into your heart and with every beat of it you pulse and flutter with love and a glimpse of what completeness must feel like.

!!!!!!Damn Mother Nature and her hormonal havoc reeking hell!!!!
Shes a tricky bitch
but I love her so

It does not matter what type of relationship you had with your parents
It does not matter what you told yourself about possibly being a horrid mother
It does not matter that you're sure the kid would turn out like his/her father...
or worse like you.
Because what matters is the feeling of that child growing in your womb
what matters is watching her/him grow and learn
what matters is discovering the world through their eyes
what matters is knowing the completeness of..mother and child

Despite the raging of your mind, your body becomes softer to nuture, your mind sharper to protect, your heart larger to really love.

You begin to think that lugging around 10 pounds of baby supplies could be good for you since you keep skipping out on the gym and just because a man or woman has nipple rings does not necessarily mean that he/she is good in bed (at least that is what you tell yourself)
~~~le sigh
that is why im doing what I am doing now...
darn aching ovaries
and staring-bus-babies
I can blame the body snatchers later.


 

 


Change

Apr. 24th, 2006 12:58 pm
missrenie: (Default)

Things are changing
and im stuck at this crossroads with everything in life it seems
well not everything but the major things
Im at a multiple crossroad
I'm scared because i know that every step I take
or don't take
will lead me in a certain direction for quite some time.
im tired
im depressed
but more than that im mad as hell
at more than just myself
Looking back on the past does not do anything
I know that
but it's a different thing to live that philosophy.
I can't hide
I cant run away
I'm not going to punk out
But I can feel it
war
within
because right not my mind, my soul ,
my being is in a state is disease
I can hear the voices telling me defeat
horrible things and nightmares
and I can either accept it
or do something about it

 

 


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