missrenie: (Default)
That wish list I wrote on here… yeah my first request came in. Clarity.

I have a clear realization that regardless of whether or not I join the Universal Ether or get reincarnated as comfy fat house cat whose owner is rich, childless , reasonably mentally balanced, doesn’t believe in declawing, does believe one pet is enough and is totally enthusiastic about kitty couture, bling and organic salmon dinners.

I have the memory of this one life.

This one only to hold onto in this now and if I am going to live it to the fullest then I have to let go of something.

Or rather some things, some ones and some false perceptions like this fake sense of security and the stifling fear of failure. For nearly three years this 60 to 70 hour working week thing has been the safety wheels on my life.

It’s kept me from falling down and going too fast.
It’s kept me balanced and gave me boundaries
But it also kept me from falling in love (with some exception)
in tale worthy trouble (sort of)
and down this rabbit hole that I’m constantly flirting around the edge of.

I am so so ready to free fall and fly with these wings that have been gifted to me though my own journey thus far, wings that have been pieced together from all this pain, pleasure and joy, pieced together with feathers of love plucked from friends with beautiful souls and mentors of magnificent quality.


It’s all come down to tea…

Which is my personal truth #2

Great Tea is not just tossed together. It is not just an accident. The seed has to be planted, the seed has to grow, the plant must be harvested, the harvest must be separated from the chaff, the leaves must be dried carefully, water must almost boil, then the leaves must regenerated themselves in seemingly opposing elements fire like heat and water, and just when they blossom and unfurl once again releasing like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon their life essence gets taken from them, infused changed into something new. For great tea there must be an even greater patience. I myself and my life itself are no different than the tea.

The things that happen in my life are not just accidents… well not everything :).
Life is like the tea. Sometimes we brew it for ourselves sometimes other people brew it for us. We brew with actions, and reactions and thoughts. We pick our ingredients (actively or passively) … sometimes some bastards sneak up behind you and toss something in the mix. Other times we see them put it in and just let it stay… too lazy to pick it out ourselves, or too afraid to displease them.

And when the tea is done we drink

It tastes like shit
We bitch
And pour another cup
Toast and bottoms up
WTF!!!

If it ain't my cup of tea… why the fuck am I drinking it?! Why complain and then do nothing. Why did I fill myself with the same bitter drink over and over again. Because I was worried that if I spit it out I would look like a stuck up ungrateful bitch, I was worried that it was too late to start a new batch, grow new plants and wait for a new harvest, and no matter how appalling the taste was I knew what to expect… and in that there was comfort despite the discomfort.

My mom is taught me all about tea.

An eon ago she laughed at me when I told her I was hesitant about starting everything over. She said that she understood my fear but that I was a silly hussy for using that as an excuse. "If the shoe is fucking up your foot kick it off and if something in your life, whether it be a person, a thing, a job, a situation a habit is not your cup of tea i.e. .Something suitable, appropriate, or attractive to one stop accepting it in your life. Fill your cup with something else and stop being such a silly hussy."

I did it mama.

I made my own precious ever-changing and evolving brew.
I’m protecting it and not letting sneaky bastards toss things in it I did not choose.
I am not allowing fear to dictate the ingredients of my life.

It’s almost ready and when it’s done the first cup of victory will be raised to you.


oh and Juicy if you are reading this Rubenesque Burlesque is totally a main part of the brew ;)
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

Baggage

Apr. 24th, 2009 09:43 am
missrenie: (Default)

You know it's like the song says.  “It’s gonna be a long way to happy”

 

~That’s because you’re carrying too much fucking baggage.

 

Fuck you.

 

~You don’t have the equipment sweetie but if you want we can take a day trip to the City so you can get some.

 

No fuck you.  You think you have it all together but look at yourself look at your life.

 

~I’m sorry did I hurt your feelings?

 

Yeah.

 

~I didn’t mean to.

 

I know… where are you going?.

 

She was  just sitting there  in her oversized sweater, the computer screen turning her skin this weird shade of bluish white.   She looks small and frail and I love her.  For a long time she has been a sister to me but I decline all invitations to all pity parties, not out of being a bitch, not out of lack of compassion but out of self protection.  Attendance at these functions does one of two things.

~ gives me that thank goddess that is not me feeling that poor sob

~encourages me to throw my own

 

Neither of these are accepted schools of thought for me.  I don’t like watching other people’s train wreck since I’ve started to pull myself from the rubble of my own.  And this particular train wreck has been happening for a long ass time. 

 

~Home… it’s late and I work in the morning.   I love Pink you know I do but fuck that song.  Maybe you shouldn’t be listening to it.   Indie Arie has a song called Hope another one called I Choose.

 

I need to process this you know.

 

~You’ve been processing for 13 years.

 

Fuck you

 

~Day trip

 

It doesn’t make any difference… life is shit, life is always gonna be shit.  You have moments when it’s good and then it all gets fucked.  Every time like clockwork.

 

~If you want to see it that way….

 

You’re not perfect you know.

 

I laugh because I am perfect…  and I am flawed, weird, obsessive, extreme and one strange little girl but I am perfect at being the me I am right now in this moment, today… as I walk away.

 

You’re a megalomaniac.

 

~I know.

 

You really have to leave?

 

~Yep

 

Well goodnight hun.

 

~Goodbye dear.

 

 

It’s been five months since I walked out of that apartment that night.  Away from a woman that was a sister to me. 

 

Turns out she was then and is now is sister to a dead woman. A dead woman who in life had delighted in misery, who always said I can’t, who blamed others for her problems, who used everything from weather to weight as an excuse not live fully.    I know this woman is dead because I offed the pathetic punk ass bitch … I only keep her pictures around as a warning.

 

A warning to never ever be that woman again

 

That wasn’t how it started though.

I wanted to help this person see her own beauty, her own power.  But I wasn’t strong enough to lift myself let alone her.  So I sank down besides her… spent hours with her at the grave of our dreams in happy content mourning.

 

Occasionally I would tell her things like

You can do it

You deserve happy

You should stop giving away your power

You have to cut the toxic people out of your life

 

I tried to pound this message into her repeatedly and one day I got bitch slapped by the universe and realized that the unsolicited unheeded advice I was giving was really meant for me.  That this person I was so close to was a reflection of myself…. I didn’t like what I saw.  So I took my own advice. 

 

 

She’s calling now.

This sister to a dead woman.

She is sending out the usual feelers in all the usual directions

 

And I am at a loss

Wondering if I am strong enough now to take her on.

Wondering if my lesson is to let go.

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)
  

Last weekends sex-capades  left me all fucked up in the head.

After talking to a few level headed friends who suggested the following:

 

*Intimacy is a thing of perception.  What you interpreted as love making may have been his standard fair.  Remember hun you’re ass to elbow into some weird multi-favored shit… normal maybe starting to taste exotic to you.

 *There are guys who just want to please women you know (this was stated to me very defensly).  Doesn’t mean he’s in love with you just that he likes making love and until he asks you to formally be his girly then
A: just enjoy it with no emotional attachments
B: stop fucking/ making love to him

 *You’re not in love you’re in stupid.  I think you should come over so I can slap you.  Maybe give you that some sense you’re sorely lacking.

 *This guy is a stickler for rules.  And he is breaking his personal rules for you.  He may have real feelings for you but is freaking out about logistics.  Or he doesn’t and he’s using the logistics as an excuse. 

 *Maybe its your body’s way of telling you to slow the hell down you dirty whore.  Maybe you actually want one man and not three hundred. 

 *You… one guy, vanilla sex, no hair pulling or strap-ons?  Who the hell are you trying to kid.  You’re delirious from lack of sleep and a proper spanking.  Take a nap, get thee to a dungeon and talk to me in the morning.

 

 

I decide to take him for another run just to be figure out if: 
A: that I am in deep deep like with him
B: that I was delirious from lack of sleep and a proper spanking.



So last night I’m clutching the edge of the stove top and leaning dangerously close to an almost whistling teapot as he grinds against me enthusiastically from the back.  It’s hard to pour tea when someone’s biting on your neck but we both really needed it.  The tea I mean. Turns out that I gave him a nasty viral throat infection last Sunday that I wasn’t aware I had at the time.

We cuddle, drink our tea.  And I wonder if sleeping with him again is the best course of action.  Laying in his arms with my head against his chest felt too good.  But  then I figure that any guy who likes my herbal tea, doesn’t flinch or look at me crazy when I tell him about the coven and still thinks I’m sexy after serving him up a slice of the special hell I’ve been in since Wednesday  is worth another roll in the hay. 

Besides it would be like kissing after we both ate garlic… “a negating effect since I’ve already infected him”... this is his theory.  I suggest giving him a massage.  I actually do give him a professional massage with no hanky panky.

 I inform him of his body issues.  Suggest a course of action and I can barely get the lotion away before it’s all “hacha and whoopee”. 

And this time I screamed louder when I came.
This time I went into with a sense humor instead of heartbreak and you know what, maybe my logic is skewed but it worked out in my favor anyway.  I figured out that what I've got is something far better than a fuck buddy.  I have a love buddy.  Which is kinda like a fuck buddy but better. 

See my love buddy cares about my day, my life and when he is going to see me again, he wants to know what I am thinking, and how he can please me. He teaches me to load and shoot winchester rifles and remembers the things that I say and sometimes peer pressures me into eating beef.
I care about my love buddies goals and pursuits, whether or not he made it home okay, I know the names of his siblings and that when he was 12 he had a blond patch of hair... just one patch admist all that brown  and how a specific shade of green turns his eyes really really blue... and I make him laugh.  Alot. 

I really like him
and I really enjoy my time with him. We both enjoy our time with each other, moaning and laughing, touching and tickling. Holding eachother and breathing.

There was no embarrassment as he massaged a horrendous cramp out of my left thigh while kissing my right knee.  And in the after glow as we cuddled under my blanket I told him about my mother and he told me about his.    

I saw the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the cancer that killed her.

 

He knows my secrets.
He’s seen me at my worst and best
He likes me just as wild and free as I am.
He hasn’t asked me to change in any way.


His secrets are silent but on the surface.
And at he worst he is harsh on himself at his best he is passionately focused
He is controled and displined, intelligent and giving
I wouldn't want him to change in any way
 

His hands were warm as he touched me and I told him so.

He replied with “warm hands cold heart” 
I cupped my hands around my mouth and breathed out hot air against his chest.   I was smiling with childish satisfaction as looked back up at him.   He was laughing, the lines around his eyes deepening and within them I saw that struggle that hesitation but he drew me closer and kissed me anyway and rubbed his nose against mine.


So I love him.

So I  make love to him.

But I'm not in love with him.  See I’ve learned the lesson of the tree.  How some people are roots and stay forever, how some people are branches and can fall away, how some people are leaves and are for a season only.  There is danger in trying to turn a leaf to root.

 

Intuition tells me  that he is a leaf. 

 

And that’s alright. 

I accept that. 

I’ll revel in this season. Because right now he’s a little island of sanity within all the insanity of this amazing and awkward adventure I call my life. If he ends up touching me like that for only a little while…If we end up touching each other like that only for a little while then so be it. 

 

Because he has touched me

Deeply

In a positive way
that will remain with me
long after he himself  is gone~~~


Sigh

Jan. 20th, 2009 02:20 pm
missrenie: (Default)
I'm so fucking neurotic that if it were a crime I should be locked away for life.
I just re-read my last few postings.
That was some shit straight outta Jane Austen. I should be slapped.
This is the exact reason why I  try not sleep with people I actually really really like.

He may have not felt the same way I did.
Or he may have and it freaking out too.
I am not in any way ready to commit to a relationship.
I enjoy my life the way it is now.
Not that I don't get lonely or really want someone to hold me and take out the trash, someone I can cook for, who actually likes that digusting sound I make in the back of my throat when I am sick...

But lets face it. I don't give a damn about my bad reputation and Donna Reid I am not! 
I am not for changing, quieting down, or locking myself into one saddle.
And if I have to play a game to date I would rather not do it at the same time I understand that my candor can be mistaken for more that what it is.


I'm over it now... well almost

my only regret:
that I didn't scream louder when I came.

sigh~~~

I'm: feigning indiffrence for sanity's sake
missrenie: (Default)

How could you?

Why would you do it?

Pursue me so boldly and then lack the courage to keep me.

 

I asked you three times to state your intentions towards me because I know me and you claimed to know me.  But I think you were wrong in your assessment of me, else you would not have erred so grossly.

Had you have truly known me you would have known that when I opened myself to you, when I wrapped my legs around your hips and took you inside of me that it was no mere physical thing.  That the hunger was deeper than carnal desires of flesh and bone.

You should have known that when I grabbed your hair and looked you in the eyes and said:

I want you

that I wanted You!

 

You who amidst the cover of night against the glow of my candles danced to the rhythm we created together

You who spoke so perfectly and sweetly, who called my name over and over as if I were some earth bound goddess.

You who held me in his arms as I cried out the grief of years of heart stabbing aching loneness

You who had the gall to look into my eyes as you lay over me, as you worked above, as you came.

 

I can’t believe you could be so utterly spineless and afraid and stupid enough to let me go.

 

I asked you what you intentions were to me and you answered then

And now, now after being with me, seeing me in a way in which I have not even shown my ex lover of nine years you tell me you don’t know

That you are not sure!

 

How could you?

Why would you?

You who watched me struggle, break myself, rebuild myself

You who waited so patiently for me to notice you

 

How could you mend my heart and break it so quickly?

Are you afraid of me?  Of this?

Did you feel more than you expected?

I would ask if you were such the talented actor that faked it and felt nothing at all. But your body didn’t lie.  Your breath and heartbeat, your embrace, the sound of my name on your lips, your low guttural moan, your loss of control so quickly, your body’s resounding answer to my own body’s plea.

 

Or could I be the stupid one here. 

Was everything perfect because you waited so long to say it, to do it to me?

Or was it perfect because you had done it before to someone else?

 

I guess that does not matter right now does it?

Because in my idiocy I refuse to believe that you lied to me, and I can see the struggle in your eyes when you look at me, but know this sir…

 

I am your perfect woman and like your perfect idea or your perfect cup of coffee I will not stay hot forever. 

I am all those things you said, sexy, beautiful, intelligent and frighteningly strong. I am also courageous and bold and oh so fucking worthy of one who is just the same.

 

I was

However

Horribly and grievously mistaken to believe you to be that person.

 

 

 

My patience ebbs

My adoration will wane

 

 

Your loss will be great.


missrenie: (Default)

 

You think you can do these things, but you just can't, Irene!!

 

 

So Thursday night I had a date.  Which I canceled because I was super emotional and hyper horny and if I went out on said date I would just end up crying on his shoulder or fucking him and that is no way to begin a relationship with someone that I don't even really like in the first place.

 

So Q being the darling that he is had the perfect solution which involved a trip to San Francisco, a bar on Castro apply named The Bar, and the meeting of a man named Louis.

 

First off driving into the city at night is a glorious thing, if you're not driving.  The nite brite lights, the mosh of music, the open individuality of the people, the steep ass hills that either make you feel like you're on a rollercoaster and/or give you vertigo...  I've been there several times before but for some reason last night felt like the first time.  There was all this excitement.  I felt like a virgin on prom night. My exact words as I peered out of the window were "Omg I feel like a huge clitoris"

 

We parked two blocks away from our destination and made our way down hill to The Bar.  Q advised me to watch my step but I was so intrigued by the vinyl padded walls that I didn't… I stumbled through the entrance, into the padded wall and fell immediately in love.

 

Three drinks later I was all sorts of sheets to the wind and involved in deep conversation with Louis who I love now too.

 

"You have to be who you are.  You have to own who you are." He said as he held both my hands.  "You're in a stage right now and you are figuring yourself out and that is beautiful, you are beautiful.  I see you.  I can see you right now.  What I see is wonderful."

 

And then he told me things.  All the dark things, all the sad things, all the happy things, all the wonderful things, and he spoke with confidence because he wasn't speaking to me as much as the Universe was speaking to me through him.

We understood that

We understood each other.

We had synchronicity

We had vodka

 

"You're perfect and I'm validating you," he said as he looked into my eyes "so you can now validate yourself and someone else.  You no longer need anyone else to validate you, because you're perfect and God loves you and I love you and you love you.  We're family now you and me.  You have my card now and if you don't call me or contact me the next time I see you and I will see you again, I will call you all sorts of bitches"

 

 

 

Despite the fact that

-I am limping a bit from dancing on my turned ankle

-will probably not be able to drink cranberry or pineapple juice for a month

-typing the word vodka is masochistic in nature

-And my stomach feels like it's full of lead…even though I know its empty for obvious reasons that I won't go into.

 

I feel wonderful, whole, free, complete and perfect.

 

Because I got what I needed what I was searching for not just in the past few months but the past few years.  During the course of the night between dancing, drinking and discourse Louis gave me a book mark and what was written on it changed my life just as much as massage school did, just as much as playing the Moaner did.

 

Thank you Q and K for taking me out last night.  And driving me home since I was a drunk, snoring mess by the end of it.

And thank you Louis for taking the time to connect with me, to share with me, to see me...you are a wonderful, divine and perfect person. All my love to you.

 

 

 

 

Nothing from without can touch the

 

Perfect Life of The Divine within me

 

No past experience has power over me

 

 

 

I am a perfect child of The Divine

 

 

 

And nothing that anyone has ever done or said

 

can interfere with my divine inheritance. 

 

The power of The Divine is greater than any circumstance in my life.

 

The strength of The Divine is mine to use.

 

 

 

Turning away from all feelings of inadequacy,

 

I discover that all that I need is within me right now.

 

 

 

As I forgive the past, I find that I have

 

nothing to atone for,

 

nothing to run away from. 

 

 

 

Casting off the old me,

 

I discover my true Self

 

 

 

I take dominion in my life,

 

Old habits have no power over me

 

Conditions have no power over me

 

Personalities have no power over me

 

I take dominion!

 

I am whole.

 

I am free.

 

I am complete.

 

Now and forever more

 

And so it is.

 

~Adapted from Your Needs Met, by Jack Addington


missrenie: (Default)
I'm temporarily in this place.
this fuck awful place in my head.

I'm coming down from my break-up high, moving high, i'm so fuckable high
I bi-passed solid ground
I slipped directly of the cliff  and into the pit.

I'm holding on though, bloody nails and all, screaming obscene curses at myself for wanting
just to be held
just for a little while

I wish I was stronger,
that this want to let go while someone holds on wasn't so dominating
I plunge myself into work, into working out... I've lost 12 pounds.  But this heavy pain is still there.


Nothing's gonna heal it save time
Shopping, eating, working, new relationships... those things are just temporary bandaids

It's gonna bleed through.

fucking sure as hell isn't gonna do the trick either
if the past two weeks have taught me anything
if the past six years have taught me anything

its that I'm so tiered of being fucked
and I'm so tiered of being fucked over

But despite all that, and everything I wrote I above it.  I know these three things.

I will heal.
I will be happy.
I will be whole.

I am determined to be so
I deserve to be so.

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)


Seriously, stop calling me. 

You see I fear I am like a teenager that just got a new job and with it disposable income.  But this new job is being single and the disposable income is the pussy.    But i'm over it now... or at least I am over you.

It's not you its me.
Wait...  let me try to say that with a straight face.
....
Damn I can't
actually it is you
Non withstanding the fact that you were a complete moment of weakness, that if it wasn't you it would have been someone else.    It was really really bad.  Aside from that great stretch where you managed to get my knees completely parallel to my ears it was uneventful... which is an absolute shame, because someone tall, dark and handsome as you are with a voice like a lion in the wilds of  exotic Africa should have done better.

I should sue your ass  for false advertisement!!!!
Because of you I have to add a new tag to my live journal.

No i'm really not going to date you now, or answer your calls. Because you're just looking for a lay.   And trust me I am not hating on that at all.  But the sad thing is that you stimulate neither my mind nor my vagina... so I don't think we can do business.


Notes for future you
-Work on your technique.  You're all drive with no destination.
-Try hip rotations and variations in the pattern of your thrusts.   It keeps your partner from dying of boredom
-Three minutes... are you fucking with me.  I really thought that.  Thats the real reason I smiled.  Because see you were fucking with me.  It's funny huh?
-Don't get all cuddle right after.  You sweat like a pig monkey
-If she don't congratulate you for a job well done, roll over and smile, or fall immediately to sleep with a satisfied smirk don't ask how it was.   It's forcing her to become a liar. 
-Don't ask her how many times she came...it makes you look really pathetic and if you continue to ignore the advice directly above this  the real answer is and will always be zero.
 

oh I'm deleting you from my phone book right now.





Notes for future self:
find new hobby
find & use self control
find & wear iron underwear
don't date any one who:
-willingly names them-self after a prison
-has never heard jazz or bossa nova
-idolizes Biggie Smalls
-kisses like that squid monster in Aliens
-talks more bullshit than a pasture full of steers who's hay has been spiked with ducloax
 
 
 
missrenie: (Default)

Me:      I wanna chat with -----   but I don't know if I should
            I think I will just stay hidden from him

 

Kris:    is he on?

 

Me:      yep

 

Kris :   do you think that maybe he might think you're avoiding him?

 

Me:      snap monkey I wouldn't want that
            im ignoring Jim not him
            I'm just afraid of being like hi hi hi hi and he really not interested and all that fire cracking was on my   
            side and not his

 

Kris:    then you type "sup"

 

Me:      lol
            okay I can do that
            it can't be only  on my side he was so intense
            gah
            im over thinking
            besides its just fun right
            just fun
            fuck it I have to just say that over and over again

 

Kris:    why are you being like me 2 years ago?

 

Me:      karma, karma being the little bitch whore she is
            anyway  should I put a smiley face behind the sup?
            or should I not
            or should I say hey you since sup is so leet speak
            or should I say sup you?

            wtf is wrong with me
            was it that good that I am stupid
            fuck
            okay
            did you hear that
            I just slapped myself
           maybe that gave me a bit more sense

 

Kris:    SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT
            you're pissing me off and I'm going to have to fucking slap you tomorrow

 

Me:      i typed in hiyah
            its my compromise

 

Kris:    ok

 

Me:      this is crazy
            god damnt you know what I am getting a vibrator and calling it a fuckin day
            I swear
            I am not allowed to date
            this is turning me stupid
            fuck men
            fuck women too
            I’m going to be a nun from now on

 

Kris:    yeah ok
            that won't last

 

Me:     hey can we trade the honesty for a little support here!
           Seriously next time I go out with anyone im wearing my cast iron drawers…well unless its Mr Studd

 

Kris:    yeah he's cute
            freaky but cute
            and that's how Christian Bale was in American Psycho

 

Me:      cute and freaky?

 

Kris:    and scary with a fucking saw

 

Me:      well thanks for ruining Mr Studd FOUREV’ERRRR
             this is that honesty thing again isn't it?
             I see what you did there

 

Kris:    safety before pleasure

 

 

missrenie: (Default)

 

It's easy to write about myself. 

Just myself.

It's therapy.

At one point in my life I went crazy from keeping too many secrets...

I don't want to have secrets. 

 

Secrets turn to lies and headaches so I just get it all out.  I live head deep in exhibitionism because if anyone likes me I want it to be for me.  With every flaw, for every ill shaped notion, for every crude word and weakness.  I do this because while I love acting I hate pretending.  I hate people pretending to be something they are not.  You get close to them and find out that they are someone completely different.  I don't want to do go through that.  So I don't do it. 

 

I live out loud.

I don't have secrets… I have the occasional delusion but I don't have secrets.

Just myself

 

It's easy to write about myself.

But I can't write this without writing about you.  So I will write it to you.  Even though we've already had this conversation months ago.  I will write it to you. And if you read this… when you read this I hope you forgive me. Just like you've forgiven every flaw, every ill shaped notion, every crude word and weakness. 

 

 It's been heaven, it's been hell.  It's been wonderful, it's been a war and there are casualties on both sides.  I need space and time and healing. 

 

You're beautiful to me… did you know that?  Did I tell you often enough? 

I love you even though I am leaving.  I really truly deeply do.  I think I always will.

 

We laugh now…easily.  Did you notice?  Ever since we talked and agreed not to emo out about this.  We agreed that since there is not enough space on the cross for both of us neither of us was allowed to go up there.  Cause it wasn't fair. 

 

What we've done to ourselves wasn't fair

What we've done to eachother wasn't fair

 

You know what else isn't fair... having to explain this to your mom.  To our other friends, to our family.  Sitting there as they shake their heads and say "I told you so" or "What a shame... we really thought you two would make it" or "You should have married eachother sooner and then you would not be going through this" or "Whose to blame?" and the worst one...the absolute worst fucking one. "Don't you love each other any more?"

 

But between you and me...

Are you excited?

Are you terrified?

Are you sad?

 

I am.

Excited about my own place, my own stuff, finally dear goddess MY OWN

 

Terrified about going it alone, stepping away from the ledge, letting go of the edge and trying to swim, daring to fly without your hand in mine, without your voice in my ear, without the safety of your net.

 

Sad because if I change too much if you change too much,   you or me or we may not want us anymore…

 

I dread the conversations we haven't even had yet.  In the future.  A year or two from now.  If you pass me by with someone on your arm and wave at me and smile that sweet smile as you introduce us to each other.  Would I blush and stutter, would I compare myself to her, would I be insanely jealous or genuinely happy… would I have someone too?

 

 

I don't blame you… well not anymore

I hope you don't blame me.

 

This is an ending

This is an beginning

We bring this chapter to us to a close

And we open a new book on ourselves.

 

maybe

one day

we can be a part of each other's story.
missrenie: (Tree of Knowledge)
I had forgotten
amidst years of conflict
amidst years of conditioning
amidst years of conforming

I had forgotten
my worth
my beauty
my self

I cast it off of me in order to wear a lesser garment of lesser value.
I painted my face with the lies of a commercialist society
I strapped my chest with the fears of friends and family
I clothed myself
From tit to hip
from hip to toe in you...
to blend
to disappear
to die
because I believed that fighting was too messy for you
because I believed that changing was too difficult to do
because I believed it was easier
to run
to hide
to give in

The fabric has worn thin

and as I stand
naked
scrubbed
skin red and raw

I stare
and see
just me

and me screams:
NO MORE
NO MORE

I am tiered of wallowing
I am nary not swallowing
one more fucking thing

I’m tied of choking
When its time for me to sing

I’m tied of crawling
Cause you pulling on my wings


The lies you spittin are starting to bore me
I’m gonna be my own best success story

Now is time for a Reclamation
To which I make this proclamation
To Untame
To Rename
To Reclaim me

can not you see
undA NU mangeMEnt ='s A NU ME
it's time to stop trying
it's time to stop crying
it's time to be
it's time to       come
it's time for                   me 
missrenie: (Default)

Trust me he said in earnest as he looked directly into my eyes.  I am asking you to trust me.  I need you to trust me this time.

 

It broke my heart because I have trusted him.  I chose a life with him instead of my family. I left three jobs and three homes when he asked me to. I have struggled from day to day, paycheck to paycheck surviving on his hopes and dreams.  I have broken myself to my very foundation and rebuilt myself in an image more suitable to him.  I have missed nine years of holidays, birthdays, special occasions in what was once my life to follow him into a world where I was essentially alone…a strange southern girl in even stranger western lands. 

 

All because I trusted him.   But I couldn’t this time. 

 

Besides it wasn’t truly trust he was asking for

It was my faith he wanted.  My hope he truly desired, as if my belief in him would be the wind beneath his exhausted wings.  But I was tried of being his buoyancy, sick of being the bearer, the unseen entity oft taken for granted.   

 

So even though looking him directly in his eyes and telling him no was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.  I did it.  Even though my tear clouded eyes were locked with his own moist gaze I could see with complete clarity…. It is my time to fly.

missrenie: (Tree of Knowledge)

I hate me...

It’s11:15 pm on a Thursday. It’s raining. You are in the den playing World Of Warcraft, the cat’s licking her ass and I am sitting in a plush beige 3rd hand recliner in the living room of a 2 story house nestled in a suburbia which exists on the fringes of a large city in California .

The living room has shag carpet that someone told me was once orange. It might have been 25 years ago but today is an unpleasant muddy green with splotches of moldy brown. The curtains are yellow and as old as the carpet. A bowflex sits in the middle of the floor, unused, unwanted and glaring ominously at any one who passes it by.

The room is flanked by 3 bookshelves all spilling over with binders of world maps, recipes, math and English assignments, craft instructions, etc. Two plaid couches (from the late 70s?) mercifully covered by bright red table clothes, hold up the rest of the walls.

The walls themselves are plastered with a concoction of African and African American collectables, oddities and art work which start off as museum worthy then hyper jump directly into the realm of offensive and tasteless. Example: Hand carved wooden mask from Nigeria next to a green, red and white hand stitched circular pot holder that portrays a black female child in classic red lipped, moon faced, darky, pickanninny style. This is the standard décor for the rest of the 2 and ½ bathroom, 4 bedroom house. To summarize it looks as if the 70’s a Costco/Sams ( or what ever local where house supply store your familiar with) size box of Reese’s pieces, a teaching supply store and the Black Power movement got together for one wicked foursome and heaved all over the place.

The art, the carpet, the furniture, the room, the house all belong to my possibly- future -mother-in-law and is a physical manifestation of the mental and emotional abuse she endures from her husband. I used to feel sorry for her. I don't anymore. She stayed. She stayed here. She constructed her tomb. She chose to accept. I want to grab her and shake her. I want to wrap my hands around my neck and wake her up. Sometimes I even want to blame her for how my life is. If she would have demanded more of her husband and for herself you wouldn't be the person you are today right... right? That has to be the reason for it. Your father is an ass, your mother his tool and you a cross between them both.

I’m hungry. I want to stuff the hollow space within with something heavy and solid. just to pretend I'm whole. The emptiness is something food could never truly fill... but right now its close enough. I open the door to the refrigerator and look inside. It is just like the walls, just like the house, just like your mother, just like me… full of useless odds and ends, going off and in need of cleaning, in serious want of catharsis. I close the door to that little pocket of insanity and tragedy so viciously that I can hear clank of 8 13 month old salad dressings bottle cry out against eachother. Although I wonder if I have broken something I am quite certain that I do not care.


I feel destructive. This isn't good. My minds not well. I should go upstairs, sleep off or through this storm.

I might as well take a Valerian root and go to bed. I say this out loud. But the only one who hears me is the cat. Who is busily content at the moment so she could care less. I repeat my plans for retirement again, louder. And I hear you say "Go ahead I will be right up."

It's 2am before you actually comes to bed. Your feet which areicy cold from sitting in front of the window while running your latest "instance", brush against the soles of mine. I feign sleep and roll away from you but you snuggle closer and suddenly the cal king size bed isn't nearly large enough. You place your hand around my waist and slowly, slowly inches your fingers up until you are cupping my breast. Warming your frigid fingers from my body heat. I know you don't mean to be a pain. I know you just want to be close to me. But I want to cringe, I want to push you off, but I don't want to explain why.

So I lay there and I wait for your breath which comes in deep sighs to even out. I wait for you to stop your slow and gentle grinding into my back. I wait for you to sleep. And when you do I un-twine myself and push away. I'm colder than before.

I'm wide awake now.

And I'm pissed because I have to get up at 6 and go to work then leave work and go to class until 10pm and you don't have to do that.

I want to shake you. And tell you to get it together, get a real job so we can get out of this house. Get in school, get a life so I can get some respect for you. Get it together... so we can get together. Because I am so damn tired of holding our world up. So tired of being here, in this house, in this place, in this state of mind.

I want to tell you that you are killing me. That you have been killing me for five years! I want you to stop it!

But I don't. I pull the covers closer and force myself to fall asleep. In the morning I'm cuddled up next to you. It's warm, comfortable, familiar... the curve of your side against mine and the cadence of your breath, the beat of your heart.

And for five minutes right before you open your eyes, before you say good morning, I love you. I wonder if this is how your mother feels and I hate myself for it.

 

I hate this house

I hate the walls

I sometimes hate you

but most of all

I hate me

for continuing to be

here

In this house

within its walls

it's rotten, it's crumbling

it's going to fall.

Before that happen I'll come awake

I'll grab me and slap me, I'ma give me a shake

Just for now I'll sleep and grieve

But one day soon I find the strength to leave.

Discipline

Jan. 24th, 2008 03:31 pm
missrenie: (Default)

 Years ago when I was at Dillard University (Dear gawdess 8 years ago. Am I really that old now?)… I had a sensei.  She was a short Japanese woman with hair the color of oil, eyes as warm as coal and a voice as soft as a dark winter's coat. Even though her actions and her mannerisms were nothing but kind and gentle it only took a single spark to set her off .  Oil burned, coal glowed and someone was going to get it.  She normally reserved these outbursts for when the class failed to grasp something after it was repeated 100 times. 

Sensei invited me into her office once.  I had never been given a direct summons  and we just completed finals. I assumed I had passed but the cocky arrogant self assurance fleeted away with each step that I took down that short corridor to her door.   After about 5 minutes of pleasantries exchanged in Japanese with a lot of "I'm sorry please repeat one more time" on my part and being offered candy twice, she handed the paper to me.

There was a 98 written neatly in the top right hand corner

"You had the highest grade in the class" I was silent but I smiled. "You didn't study did you?"

My need to brag got the better of me. "No I paid attention in class.  I knew I would get an A!"   I was so excited.  I felt like I had won the lottery.  I couldn't wait to tell Terick.

She shook her head "You did not study and still you make the highest grade.  That tells me some thing about you." she pushed the candy dish towards me again. There's only one reason why a  nice old woman offers you candy three times the first time is courtesy the second also politeness the third time is to sweeten something bitter. I took one this time.  She waited until I had un-wrapped it and popped it into my mouth before she continued. She sat back in her chair and folded her hands into her lap.

"You are intelligent and things come easy for you but you are undisciplined.  You lack focus.  Your few mistakes were stupid ones that could have been avoided.  Yes you make an A but it should have been perfect.  I am disappointed in your performance."  It's impolite to talk with your mouth full.  I could not speak up in defense. I knew this.  She knew I knew this.  She kept talking. 

"You have many talents.  But unless you have discipline in your life your talents will be wasted your life will be wasted.  You will continue to make stupid mistakes."

She was quite again and I thought.:
about all the stupid mistakes that I had made so far in my life and how easily they could have been avoided.
my numerous accomplishments and how worthless they felt in the end.
how the many chances I had to step into something truly great but I let it pass me by.  I was afraid to really try because I was afraid to really fail.
I settled for mediocrity.  I was just insanely lucky that my mediocrity was above average.  

"Yes you can make an A but it is worthless.  It might as well be an F.  This is not just about the test this is about life… You understand me Irene-chan?"   

The sweet taste of strawberries and milk that flowed down my throat was met with a

sob rushing up fast from the emptiness below and suddenly I was crying like 3 year old child. I  nodded.  All I could do was swallow the truth with the candy to wash it down.  She stood from her desk to give m me a tissue and placed a hand on my shoulder.  It took a bit for me to stop crying.  When I finally did she pressed three more candies into my hand before sending me on my way.

 

Eight years passed
And throughout that time
I continued to make stupid mistakes
I continued to live in mediocrity

I am just now using the key that my sensei gave me years ago.  I've opened the door and there's no turning back.  I am coming to the end of a particularly strenuous chapter in my life.  I have balanced full time school and full time work while salvaging a seriously damaged relationship, conquering many self limitations, and overcoming a thirteen year old eating disorder. I'm in the final leg of this race and yes I am tired, yes I am afraid.  But  I have discipline.

So when I walk down that aisle with full honors  it will be because I fucking earned it, because I gave everything I had, because I poured myself into it.

This isn't about a test.  This isn't about a grade.  This is about life and wether I succeed brilliantly or fail fantastically absolutely nothing will be mediocre about it

missrenie: (Default)

 

 

Why

Why glitter is the herpes of the art world

Why it's not a good idea to adjust your seat while driving downhill 10 miles over the speed limit

Working in Walgreen's suck dirty nasty flying monkey balls

Silence is an important part of communication

 

How

How to say the words "I love you Dad" without choking in the words dad, you, love and I or bursting out in fits of demonic laughter while simultaneously drowning in a veil of tear that would make even the angels weep

How to walk down stairs in heels while talking

To graciously accept a complement

To correctly apply the mantra of "fuck it" when dealing with situations beyond my control

Per my mother's example: How to flip people the almighty fuck you with out them noticing ( I think)

How to say things like "His decreased range of motion in the cervical region while performing lateral flexion may be due to tightness in the sternocleidomastoid or even the scalenes. I suggest myofascial therapies to include proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation as a method to promote balance in his overall posture." (and I can write it in short hand too)

How to not laugh at loud at the slight misfortunes of others

How to laugh riotously at my own grand misfortunes

How to change my pants, bra, shirt and freshen my make up while driving.

How to get undressed in a room with 20 other people

How to orgasm in front of 300 people

To Concentrate, Meditate, and Embrace TIGER!!!!

To load and shoot a 9mm gun safely and with confidence (Thanks Scott!!!!)

 

The importance of

The importance of forgiving others.

Living a purpose driven life.

What

What wookie berries are

What dirty nasty flying monkey balls taste like... on account of working at Walgreen's

 

 

When

When it is appropriate to laugh and swear obnoxiously in a movie theater (i.e Army of Darkness, Rocky Horror, Snakes on a Plane) and when it is not (Golden Compass, Titanic, )

When its best to walk away and when its best to fight

Working at Walgreen's it is best to rinse with Listerine daily to combat the taste of dirty nasty flying monkey balls

When it is time to let go... sadly I have yet to learn the how of it.

When in conflict sometimes the best course of action is to do nothing

 

That

I really like what the money that I make myself can buy

Working in Walgreen's sucks dirty nasty flying monkey balls

That I can work 40 hrs a week, go to school for 16, commute for 10, and not curl into a fetal position by weeks end

That I can be arrogant, pushy, and wonderfully indignant when given the opportunity

That I am marvelously imperfect and magnificently flawed and that by changing, recreating, reshaping myself... I change, recreate and reshape my world.

That just because you go to sleep does not mean you will wake up sober (this is heart breaking)

While it is completely appropriate to say kiss my ass ever once in a one should always strive for impact with it's delivery… i.e. try saying it with your best stepford wife's smile will tilting your head slightly to the left or right (your choice) With hands clasped together in your lap. If at all possible add in a nervous tic (not too much though wouldn't want to over do it)

With that said I am stronger:
Physically

Mentally
Emotionally
Spiritually
Than I ever thought myself to be

That I have learned more thing than I can ever hope to put down here.

That there is much more to learn than I can ever know

 

 

But the most important thing I have learned this year is that there are lessons and truths all aroune me
These lessons and truths impact my  beliefs.
My beliefs dictate my actions.
My actions create me.
While these lessons are important they are not carved in stone.
They are instead like a  river that constantly changes as I change.
Flowing in and out of me

Change is inevitable constant, unstoppable
It is foolish to fear that over which I have no control

Ultimate control is an illusion
Act without fear of losing control
and my beliefs will be free of fear
my eyes will be open wider and recieve  more lessons and more truths
because I fear not change, I seek not control
 I understand and accept that this core lesson can change as well

 

There is only one thing that does not change,
one thing that is constant....

Working at Walgreen's sucks big nasty flying monkey balls.

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.

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missrenie: (Default)
missrenie

November 2011

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