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’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)

I realized something today

I never really enjoyed drinking until someone told me I shouldn't do it. Really, I was the sober friend.  The one everyone depended on to give them a ride.
Now the closet thing I get to a drivers seat is when I try to whisper indecent nothings into Terick's ear at the end of the night.  Empathis on try. Seriously I was dry as a dehumidifier in the fuckin Sahara and now it's like "You're gonna drive right cause I'm getting toasted tonight… can I get an amen?!!!"

I'm no lush btw but honestly wtf.  Someone says don't drink and all I can think about is what flavor cosmo I'm having with my appetizer and whether or not Ron's bringing the good gin tonight.

 
Someone tells me:
"Gurl you shouldn't look at that" and I stare with eyes as big as a deer's caught in a head light.

Mama said:
"Irene you shouldn't kiss boys it will get you pregnant" so I kissed girls too cause I figured it would cancel out the boys... I haven't been pregnant a day in my life (go team!!)

Doc says:
"You shouldn't drink" and I'm hanging out the window screaming where's the liquor at beyotches (sp?).

Terick says that I'm difficult but I think that's proof that I'm as easy as a crack whore on a Saturday night.  Just tell me not to do something and I'll be all over it.

I find it to be a  laughable tragically pathetic trait and I have to get it under wraps

after the company party on Friday that is.

missrenie: (Default)
And as I hydroplaned into the wall ....

a fast uncontrolled drift over three lanes of San Jose highway
I thought
life isn't really all that bad.
Right at that moment
the wheels gained ground again,
the car straightened out
the rain slacked to a mild drizzle.

I had left the storm behind

When I got home
and told Terick and Stef
they thought I was in shock because I was so calm
they felt horrible for not being with me.
I told them not to worry
that I really felt blessed
because
I had forgotten....
that I was alive

And you never realize how really alive you are
until you think your going to die

Maybe

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

 


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