missrenie: (Default)
"They're everywhere" You state
"Who" I ask
"Those kids... "

I pause and look up at you.  You are grimacing slightly.  It is painfully cute and I want to laugh.  
"You do know what we are doing right... I mean... seriously"
"This is different"  you snort  almost indignantly
"This is childish" 

A tiny ring rises up from the bin.
"Hmmm that's too early are you setting them right?"
"I think so... probably not"
"The trick is to turn to the ten and then back down to the five"

I do as you say but I know I mess up on some... I'm too busy stealing glances at you. We work in tandem.  We work in silence.  I stop occasionally to place my ear to the bin. It's ticking like a bomb and buzzing like hive and sizzling like a choir full of kids sucking on poprocks during a quiet prayer.  I notice some women looking at us funny but it doesn't matter. 

I'm riding on the wings of your high.

One of mine go off early again and I apologize.  You smile.  You grab my hand and weave your fingers through mine while muttering something about spatulas.   We are browsing two aisles away when the first of the multicolored egg timers go off.  I think it is another mistake until it is quickly followed by another and another.  I nearly bite my own tongue. I think I am going to explode from holding in the laughter and the embarrassment.  I turn into you, wanting to hide my face in your chest. 

"Keep it together." you whisper.
"I can't" I manage to wrestle the worlds out. 

My face hurts and I know I am smiling from ear to ear.  When I look up at you you seem to be having just as hard a time.  So we make our retreat to textiles.  I would have run but you kept us at a very non obvious brisk walk while I giggled and stared at the floor.

"They are going to haaaaaaaaate us"
"Yep" I agree
I'm sure our little adventure aggravated some and amused others but I don't care.  I'm in the moment.  I'm mindful in an almost Buddhist way  feeling my  heart tick like a bomb, buzz like a hive and sizzle like a choir full of kids sucking on poprocks during a quiet prayer.

While all those timers were going off
time stopped
it stopped
it slipped
it tripped back
and suddenly I'm a child again
just a giddy girl
holding the hand of a boy
with lips turned up in a riotous grin
that's half mischievous
and all pure pleasure
missrenie: (Default)
I should be sleeping
but I'm not
this denotes a problem
some evolving issue in my id
a pimple in my psyche just waiting to breach the surface and explode embarrassingly

Why when everything is going good do I freak out?
Why must I sabotage myself just to feel normal?
Over eating 
Over spending
Over extending
Is it because I don't really think that I deserve my happiness or my success?
Have I really gotten so addicted to the adrenaline high, the strung out of stress?

Or is it just easier
to create an excuse to not live fully

See all these problems, all the extra hours I spent at work, every time I let someone use me, every time I swallowed my truth, every time I pushed myself beyond all reason in the name of sacrificing my wellbeing for those that had less: less love, less affection, less happiness, less opportunity, less vision, less drive, less will I gave up vital pieces of me.  I gave up my flesh to warm another, I gave up my heart to sustain another, I used my happiness as a blanket to smoother someones burning sorrow and when there was no one to give to I simply cut.  Cut Cut Cut Cut into myself via my health, self esteem,  self image.

I should blame my mother you know.
I really wasn't hugged enough.

But I can't blame her.  I couldn't choose how I lived as a child but I do choose how I live an adult and despite all my accomplishments this year I know beyond a doubt that it is a drop in the bucket compared to what I can really get done.

I could say that I am afraid of failure but sugah I've tasted failure.  I've been it's bedmate and lover.  Some people think its a horrible thing but once you get a whiff of it it is intoxicating because it's so safe.  IT is the gateway drug.  It's bottom floor and basement.  You can't get lower, no fall is gonna hurt as much. Stay down it whispers sounding as smooth as a leather pants wearing  Lando Calrissian.  Its like a great big fucked up hug that's hard to get out of...  no I don't fear failure.

Neither do I fear success.  I've rolled in the hay with that cocky well hung bastard as well and smoked a cigarette after so that's a non issue.

It's simpler than that
I'm too lazy.

See  I exhausted myself so I would not have to deal with the truth of what I could become.  What we all have the potential to become.
My ambient was that 60hour work week, unhealthy relationships, the problems of others, bad food, lack of exercise, my outstanding ability to turn my body into a breeding ground for illness.  And while it looked like I was fiercely forging ahead I was really running away.  I was running away from the commitments that I had made to myself, the tapestry of a destiny that I set on the loom with threads of will, faith, intuition, courage and encouragement because I was too lazy to finish it.

I looked a what my life could become and said god damn that would be a pretty thing but fuck me look at all the work its gonna take.... oh something sparkly!!!

I should be sleeping
but I can't
because the "inner I" has been asleep  for so long
my body is tierd
but my spirit is impatient
she is crouching and growling and pawing at the dirt of this fucking grave I sent her to so long ago
she is screaming in rage for her freedom.
"Let me be.  Let me be.  Let me be me."

I have no more excuses
Circumstances I have allowed myself to be put in.  Situations that "inner I" set in sway has stripped that all from me now.
I am waking up
whether I want to or not  and I have to be strong
so  that means that I have to sleep.

That's the real reason why I don't see you as much as you used too.
Like Pink said "I'm not dead just changing"

 so off to bed I go~~~

missrenie: (Default)
This morning when the alarm clock rang I snuggled deeper under the covers.

I pulled them up over my head and just breathed in the warm air and counted to 100. I got up stretched, took a hot hot shower, washed my hair and then stood out on the back porch completely naked in the dim morning light.

I admit that this is not the smartest thing that I have done.

A small part of me was saying (in my mother’s voice) “wtf is wrong with you silly hussy you’re just getting over swine flu” But a larger part of me was fascinated at watching the steam rise off of the skin of my arms and hands and fingers as I slowly waved them infront of me. I felt wildly calm. I pushed myself on the balls of my feet, I closed my eyes and clicked my heels together as if I could fly away with that steam.

Of course I couldn’t.

As my feet came back to full connection with the warped wooden boards of the deck I smiled. Dorothy didn’t get to go home until the journey was over and with a little bit of luck neither will I.

I’m not “home” yet
I’m unfinished, incomplete, unaware of so many things. I have so far to go.
And I am so excited about it.

Something about this morning reminded me about the excitement of the journey.
Maybe it was sharp contrast between being so safe and warm and wet then suddenly sharply freezing and vulnerable.

No it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done today but is was the most spiritually healing thing I have done in months… going from the womb back into the world on my own.
missrenie: (MagBlackSep)

I keep trying to blog about what it was like on stage that Monday night.


What it felt like to taunt, tease and strip down to pasties and panties infront of the general public who hooted and hollered enthusiastically.  But I can’t.


In all honesty all I remember is this:

~nervous anticipation while standing at the curtain waiting to go on stage.

~an oddly hilarious moment when I realized in passing that the weird taste in my mouth was because I almost threw up.

~a sense of frantic disorientation when I made it back stage and wondered were my clothes were.


Standing there on that metal chair next to Kitty Von Quim with my arms upraised, my  hips twisted, exposed to the world was wonderful and powerful but this open ending seems trivial in comparison to what happened next.


During the second act there was a woman.  A belly dancer and she was gorgeous.  She was stunning, she was amazing.  She wove a spell like a shimmering  net, caught us up and drew us into her seduction.  In the end I applauded her wildly.


This may not seem like a big deal to some.

To me it was.


Less than six months ago I would have despised this woman

I would have hated her sexuality

I would have been jealous of her body

I would have compared myself to her and let her lovely image disgrace me, twist me, taunt me into a self loathing that would have began in starvation and ended with a binge.


But that didn’t happen this time

It didn’t happen because I was and am aware of the truth of my own sexuality, of my own body, of my own lovely image.


The truth of this makes me free

Free to enjoy her quaking hips

Free to applaud each thrust and twist

Free to see each bump and grind

Free to scream and clap in time


Because I have finally accepted me I can accept and appreciate her.

No matter who “her” is

And that is a powerful thing indeed.


missrenie: (Default)

November 2011

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