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)
I’ve decided to withdraw from this battle.
I lay down my shield and sword and I shake off all this armor.
And even though I’m no longer kicking and screaming I’m not as serene as I appear to be. I still feel you moving around in my body, stirring my blood, fevering my brain but it gets better. Since I’ve acknowledged it everyday gets easier. You’re more of a ghost than tangible touch now.

It surprises me that its harder getting over the dream than it was to get over the reality. And now that I have finally begun the process of letting go, since I stopped medicating myself with a hyper active social life and schedule I’m oh so sensitive to everything.
I feel pain, longing, loneliness, anger and grief.

I’m finally in mourning…
I was so arrogant that I believed that allowing myself to feel these things was a sign of weakness.

After all I was the one who left you right?

Who was I to miss you, miss us, miss what could have been or be angry at “what should have been”. But I can be this way. I can be pissed off at losing my best friend. I can mourn the death of this relationship. I can miss the way our bodies moved together and the way we had with words. I can grieve… it is well within my rights to grieve.

I spent 16 months running from this feeling that is washing over me right now because I was terrified of drowning in it. And guess what? Even though I am in over my head with it I can still breathe. And that is kinda pissing me off too. Knowing that I can in fact breath without you… I should have tried to far sooner.

Ten years ago I laughed when I asked you ”What did I think about before I thought of you?”

Now I remember. And I am upset about that too. I am enraged at how I allowed myself to be so dedicated and consumed by us that I let me wither away. That I allowed the value of my word to tarnish that I let my ambition lay furrow in a vast field of opportunity.

I’ve decided to withdraw from this battle of looking for that person to be “us” with.
I have decided to lay down my shield and sword and shake off all this armor so that I can relearn to breathe just for me.
I have decided to remember my own thoughts.
I have decided to reclaim my word and properly nourish my ambitions.
I have decided to let go of this hope for you and me
I have decided to surrender the dream of somesort of “us”
So that I can live the victorious reality

Of me.
missrenie: (Default)


Friday afternoon finds me huddled on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, fighting off a horrendous sore throat and I crying pathetically over some lame ass lifetime like movie (which shall remain nameless for my own protection).

I'm sick from overworking, emotionally exhausted and as I look back on it I blame the bookshelves for turning me into this hot mess. Well I blame me but it started with those damn shelves.

I should explain


Last Sunday at  2 in the morning I am  toiling away at these bookshelves because if I don’t get it done it won’t get done.  Now this is not a new thought for me.  In my last relationship I knew/felt that if I didn’t do it wouldn’t get did.  But there was still that glimmer of hope.

Now I’m completely alone and well without that slim optimistic sliver of “maybe he’ll…” so its all me on hands and knees at two am finishing up the last of the tool-less shelves in coffee brown from Target’s home décor  when it happens…

I flip the page and the instructions have this little triangle.  Inside of the triangle are two little sexless block people almost holding hands.   An indication that this part is a two person job. Suggesting strongly that I would need help. 

I start to cry

I decide that this is a dangerous thing to do when wielding a hammer (tool-less my ass) so after 4 or 5 tears I suck it up, brace the damn things against the wall, maneuver my body into the closest things to a split its been in since second grade ballet and get her done.

For a brief moment sanity seductively flitters past me and whispers in my ear telling me to stop.  I have been up since 6:45am the previous day, I’ve done 5 hour long massages, run a ton of errands all over town which include getting these heavy shelves, carrying them from the store to the car and the car to the house solo. 

But I’ve been working on this “Reorganize the Room” project since 6pm (the previous day),I have a UU service to attend in the morning, work in the afternoon and dinner plans in the evening so I have to finish.

It became a call to arms
It became a challenge
And as neurotic as it sounds it became a fucked up analogy for my life.

It has to be done. It has to be done now.

No one is going to help me.  I have to do it alone. 

I have to do it perfectly.    My performance is a direct reflection of me

I am not going to pussy out. 

I am strong enough.


I finish around 3am with everything.  My room, my closet all neat and ocdly in order.  It’s perfect and beautiful.  My shelves, my fucking shelves with the things I worked so hard for on them.

I’m exhausted and half insane and I laugh myself to sleep...since I refuse to cry.

In the morning I’m beyond fucked.
My eye’s burn, my wrist is swollen my palm is giving out sharp radiating pain, my right knee is swearing eloquently in french.
I call off service, I call off work but I still try to limp around the house and do chores with my left hand disadvantage.  Since I can’t manage to lift more than 5 lbs with my right.

I blame the shelves ( and not me) all the way…. It’s a long day.  And at this point I am working just because my body doesn’t know what to do with itself or how to stop.  It’s a relief when 6pm comes around because I have to call a truce with myself to get ready for dinner.

He shows up. 

This guy.  A friend I have known for almost two years now and he takes me to dinner.  No strings attached, no expectations, just friends and it’s really nice.  And when he pulls up to my house I ask him inside to look to see my shelves cause I am so proud of them.

And he looks at them
       And says they are nice
And he looks at my wrist
       And asks why I didn’t ask him for help

“But the place was a mess.  I didn’t want you to see it like that”
But I’m a mess and I didn’t want you to see me like that
“I would have helped you Irene”


I look at him as Muddy waters I Just Wanna Make Love to You sings out from
the cd player on the bottom of one of the shelves in front of us.

I really look at him
I do want to make love to him.

For some reason I believe that this guy would have helped me build my shelves stat and he would have done it correctly.  It’s crazy…is the passing thought I have as tears form in my eyes .   This is insane I think as he holds me tightly against him and tells me to let go.  To just let go.  I cry and sob and apologize and swear as he holds the world still around me.  And that song on my shelf is singing into my soul

I just want to make love to you.
I just want to make love to you.



Now I’m fucked. 

Because as I lay there listening only to his heart beat, feeling his hand moving across my hair I looked over at my perfect shelves that I worked so hard on.  Then deeper still  I looked at my life and everything in it. 

And in that moment, and breath, and beat, held tight within his arms I realize with shocking, startling and paralyzing clarity  just how fucking tired I am, how completely and  utterly exhausted I am




of building it alone~
missrenie: (Default)
Press play
then proceed

I thought I had gotten past it… that I wasn’t going to cry about it again.  But I heard this song and I was there


On that morning. 
I am so emotional. 
I am so searching for a sign. 
I am so wanting to stay.

I come into the room
lean over the bed and
kiss your forehead.

You blink the way you normally do in the mornings ...
with wide white unfocused eyes
brows furrowing.

You stretch your hands above your head
Hitt the wall behind you
you smile up at me.

You say good morning
I say good morning
even though I mouth goodbye

You say "I'm sleeping beauty"
and I say "You certainly are"


You get up and start your computer
You don’t see me look back at you
You don’t see the tears in my eyes


You don’t seem to notice
That this isn’t just another Saturday
That I’m not coming back today
You didn’t ask me to stay


It’s quiet


And it'll be just as quiet when I leave
As it was when I first got here
I don't expect anything
I don't expect anything
I don't expect anything to change when I leave

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

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…


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)

6969 Bliss Street
Hornyville, Cali-fornication
Just out-side of reality USA

Dear Irene:

I know you're thinking about it. 
Despite the fact that a few months/ weeks/ days/ hours (please circle one) ago you swore you wouldn't.
Remember last time  ________/________/_______(insert date)

You spent Day 1: unable to work effectively because you were too busy shivering uncontrollably and  in ecstasy.  Not only did you forget to do several key things essential  to your job, you also got to work late because of exhaustion. This caused ________________  (insert name(s) here) to mock you.

You spent Day 2 &3
: unable work or shut the hell up.  Every other word that came out of your mouth was____________________ this __________________ that  (insert name here).  You also smiled like a lunatic and vastly annoyed everyone in you immediate vacinity . This caused ________________  (insert name(s) here) to mock you.

You spent Day 4: in a pathetic downward spiral... now unable to work because of depression laced with horny-ness and had to avoid anything that sounded remotely like Jill Scott, Frank Sinatra, Macy Gray, Dave Matthews, Portis Head, Norah Jones, Within Temptation or Dana Krall which is fucktastically inconvenient since this comprises most of your musical collection.  You also gave yourself a headache from smacking your head against the steering wheel of your car in utter dismay at yourself and your actions.  This caused two little blue haired refuges from the old folks home, and one incredibly hot unknown to look at you like you were crazy.

You spent Day 5: clawing your way out of yesterday's downward spiral by listening to Punk Rock and Fuck You music which surprisingly included Within Temptation.  You gave yourself a headache from the multitudinous of overtly stereotypical neck snaps complete with eye rolling while you envisioned yourself telling _________________ (insert name here) why he/she (please circle one) is a total____________, _____________, ____________ (please use other side for more space) son/ daughter/ both  of a motherless goat.  This also caused ___________________ to mock you.

On Day 6:  you successfully achieved normality and swore never to do it again. 

And you're going to do it again aren't you?
Bless your sad simple horny heart.

Here are the rules.

#1           Do take it with a grain of salt
#2           Do remember your worth and your power
#3           Do enjoy yourself safely as always
#4           Do demand what you want
#5           Do let go
#6           And what ever you do Don’t fall… it's not love, it's not like, it's chemical.  That does not mean it 
               doesn't feel great.  It means it's like indigestion... the feeling will pass on through soon enough

Break rule #6 only in case of extreme emergency
And this isn’t an emergency.


Love you more than anyone else can,

Ms Common Sense
General Manager of the More Sensible Voices in Your Head.
Overlooked Co-Chair of the Pussy Power Brigade

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


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.

Waking up

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

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

I took a wiff
and I woke up.


missrenie: (Default)

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