Archive for the About me Category

Recession Indicators and my own #metoo

Posted in About me on July 17, 2018 by Tyrienne

My most humane moments in college were in a cubical stacked with books on economic and wartime history of the late 20th century, and a young professor who patiently attempted to teach me as his narcissist of a collegue milked me for material they could use in their own papers and lectures.

(The #Metoo movement is uncomfortable for me, I was never sexually exploited…then again is a fountain of academic papers exploited when plagarized if the author is to n√Įave to know better?)

This friend helped me live through a great deal, regrettably , cycles of flashbacks create a wall of trauma between myself and people I met while I was injured for periods of time.

For my own well being, I have learned to ride the waves of these cycles until they pass… My constitution score is deplorable but I have high hit points somehow. (I also have tachycardia and hypOTension, my existence is stacked file folders of contradictions)

So anyway, I am getting healthier, but not fast enough. I am fighting through constant brain fog induced by migraine medications and physical pain is often a steep cliff to climb.

However, I cannot ignore every economic indicator present for the wave of economic recession crashes publically. In my hysterical younger existence I still retained at least some of my education in Political Science.

It has already begun in my state with tent cities hidden within our major cities, the uptick on prices on groceries and fuels, and the enormous debt burdens carried by our friends and aquaintances from student loans, medical expenses, and failing health.

I am only 36 years old, I have friends in Europe and Australia who recieve exemplary preventative care and easy access to necessary medications and surgeries. Sometimes, I wonder if doctors of countries with better healthcare look at us as if we are still hacking away at our surgery patients like The Barber Of Seville, repleat with fast food ‘meat’ pies. Or perhaps treating our patients with leaches and opium (not far from the truth) instead of proper, modern healthcare.

Of course, there are exceptions… but I live locally and I am very selective of the topics of world news I focus on. Primarily, corperate personhood and the devaluation of the individual as a commodity in our current economic structure.

The problems are to broad of a scope for me to delineate. It is a situation I look at in the same manner people approach the grand canyon: “A great big orange hole in the ground” Describes both technically yet incompletely.

Often lately, I find myself feeling the impulse to emigrate out of this state or even this country. I am investing in my physical home in home and property improvements as much as my health allows.

I literally feel nervous we do not own egg laying chickens yet. This is anxiety I doubt anyone not-ridiculous experiences seriously… but as always, I am a self parody of a real human being. I can write as elegantly and eloquently as I can, however there is zero market for editorials without connections or nor journalism written free of propoganda for whomever pays or promises increases of standard if living, ergo, quality of life.

Regardless, somewhere…I am among someone’s favorite writers, even if it is just one person.

I try hard to hope that person or persons are not creepy people who have harmed me…but instead are decent people with good hearts. Sadly, I do not choose my small readership, you choose to read mevout if interest, curiosity, voyeurism, or obsession.

And I should not stop writing because I feel intimidated that people who intentionally, deliberately, and criminally harmed me and likely others read what I write along with kind strangers and friends.

My life is okay- my anxieties are global economic disaster and stalkers.

If you KNOW you are not welcome in my life… just know that I hate you specifically for causing writer’s anxiety. Generally, you would know if you are a stalker if you are rather certain I would call the police if you attempt contact me:)

Sometimes, when I think of all the people who have pursued contact with me after I state I wish no further contact, it feels like being buried in concrete. A relative who beat me, a handfull of ‘niceguys’ who can’t understand ‘no’, a guy who wrote a chapter in his book about ‘bringing me to Jesus’, a couple of ex-lovers, and two people who may actually be murderers.

My social anxiety is valid. My husband protects me and scares off these predators. My problem with #metoo is it doesn’t count abuse by women to women. Also, I hate hate hate the word ‘victim’.

I hate seeing it. It is like a scarlet letter that marks a person in an invisible fashion that is only visible to other abusers, it then deforms all life into social phobia and agoraphobia.

Not everyone has been stalked, threaten, or harmed by others. It isn’t glamorous, and it happens because the individual harmed often is lured into traps of feeling empathetic towards people who give the appearances of living through similar experiences or trying to seek help and the person offering a hand has ulterior motives.

In realising I am a horrendously terrible judge of character… and the current geopolitical climate has created nothing but the radicals and those who are just dropping from all social media as they are able… I am the latter.

Did an event cause this? Yes. I found out an ex was under alias as a fb ‘friend’ who sought me out via this blog.

I cannot emphasise this enough: go away. Do not comment, do not create a reaction blog. I delete stalker comments, I don’t read what anyone writes about me or whatever. I don’t even own a single book where I am mentioned, noreven read them. I fucking hide.

I write because if I don’t when I feel the need to, it affects my mental health extremely adversely.

But sometimes it helps other people as well… that makes it not so bad.


Reason for Hiatus:

Posted in About me on April 5, 2018 by Tyrienne

I write when I feel strongly enough to have something to say. With the current political climate, I am waiting until I am sure I have something valuable to add instead of “more of the same noise”.

I am watching closely for Godsign to write. Lately, the strong feeling has been to wait on publishing. In the meantime, I devote my energies to Odinist communities in conversation and the crisis/suicide chat at which I volunteer.

To have strong volk, we have to keep our people alive and mentally healthy first!ūüėČ

As a chaplain, I connect people in crisis to the resouces they need. I feel like a cross between a Heathen wiki and a 911 switchboard, but it’s worth it.

Unintended Consequences

Posted in About me on January 25, 2018 by Tyrienne

After the last post- I expected anger- if at very least a full inbox of the types of insults and threats I used to receive at the time of this blogs first inception years ago.

Although the viewership for a non-fiction post was typically average- something entirely unexpected occurred.  Next to complete silence.  I had about four likes (which was more positive than I ever anticipated) and absolutely ZERO backlash.

Further-  it led to rediscovering old friendships, of private messages of people who I was surprised to discover agreed with anywhere from half to all of what I had written in the post prior to this one.

It may not seem like it- but it took a great deal of thought and overcoming personal fear to publically announce where I stand on current events in this culture of divisiveness and insanity, I had braced myself fully to find myself in the position of defending myself against angry hordes.  Nothing prepared me for hours upon hours of wonderful conversation with long lost friends, with new followers, and positive reinforcement.

This post does not provide much new content- it is more of a large THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this- I thank you for your civility and your friendship.  Now that I once again own a laptop I have an incentive to write much more often- further, I no longer feel the burden of self-censorship I placed upon myself that stifled me from writing anything but random fiction for so long.

I have no specific plans for what I will be writing in the future- but I have learned that silence is a greater burden for me to bear than the free expression of my thoughts.  As I reiterate in other places in this blog- my perspective is constantly evolving, and I hope ever to grow in the wisdom set forth in the examples set by our Gods and noble ancestors.  Hopefully, whenever I do feel moved to post, it will be something worth reading.

However, I also strive to keep this blog as a record of the changes that have happened both in myself and the world in which I live.

This post is simply a thank you for my understanding, existing readers and a welcome to those of you who just began to follow this journal.

Bless you all:  Woten Mit Uns, always!

~Ren (Tyrienne)

How to Lose Friends and Piss Off People: A Guide to the Alt Right

Posted in About me on January 21, 2018 by Tyrienne

To start, keep an objective mind-  free from group think while striving to be free of logical fallacies and striving, always to further your education in Ethics, Philosophy, and unbiased world politics.

Decide on a code of ethics-¬† one that is solid enough to create clearcut definitions of “right” from “wrong”-¬† Look sincerely at what worked for the generations that came before and strive to emulate their strengths while improving on what caused them hardship and pain- avoid their mistakes from learning by your own observations;¬† but also discover the source of what brought them contentment as stability.

Remain flexible to change when presented with previously unconsidered ideas and information that contracts long held prior beliefs- no matter if that topic had been viewed exclusively from only one particular angle for decades prior to your birth.

Realize that no one is inherently evil and all points of view have the right to be heard- no matter how much it may hurt for you to hear their words.  However- also maintain healthy boundaries for your own emotional health.  Do not attend every argument you are invited to-  do nothing that will go against the best interests of the health and dignity of your homestead.  Read the Hamaval and do not allow yourself to be silenced.  Know when it is time to speak out courageously and when to hold your tongue and allow the fools in life to pass through without your attention and energy.

Fight injustice- but ignore foolish things that do not harm the innocent;   Children and animals are the only innocents in this world.  Adulthood is rising above victimhood and asserting your truths with wisdom and intelligence-  Adulthood being defined as the point of time in which you can be introspective and contemplative instead of reactionary.  Children throw tantrums consistently-  No one is perfect in the face of adversity, but handling adversity with grace and diplomacy is greater than handling adverse situations with violence, outbursts, and the censure of points of views which differ from your own in the public sphere.

Maintain a close-knit private life-  in a world of overs\haring and online politics- make the home and the people you choose to spend your time your refuge.  When you are engaging in public whether it be in the workplace, online forum, or a public meeting- you are obligated to give all people the same respect you desire to be shown.  Within your private life-  be incredibly selective of the company you keep.  Find the company in those who share similar values and brighten your world and illuminate you to greater wisdom, who inspire your courage, and offer you encouragement and consistent positive support.  Do not entertain the company of those who wish to demean your accomplishments, your homestead, or your immediate family undeserved.  If you are living by a moral code and abiding by it well- reject the insults of those who have none.

When you have a controversial opinion- collect sources and links to explain your point of view- with a detailed description as to why the information lead to your conclusion.  For personal anecdotes- understand that no one has lived your life but you and that it may be impossible for others to believe what they themselves have not experienced.

Attend university-  if you cannot afford formal enrollment, seek classes either online or ask to sit in on courses that interest you and expand your worldview.  Most professors have such large egos they will be flattered.  Do not add to their workload-  ask questions that show you are interested in the topic, do not enter with an agenda.   See what is happening both in the world as well as how the educational system is currently operating in educating our youth.

On the same vein- if you live in the United States, the cost of higher education is prohibitive in the formal sense.¬† Yes, take what classes you can for free but for employment- seek vocational training that gives useful skills.¬† Understand that any office job can and will be replaced eventually by either automation or business relocation overseas where labor is cheap and English is taught at a young age.¬† 5 years from now your computer programming career may be in India- however, your plumber, locksmith, mechanic, and electrition will always be local by nature.¬† Have a skill that is indispensable, even if it may not be presently respected as much as professions that do not involve manual labor.¬† Honest work with tangible results creates a sense of well being and personal pride.¬† ¬†If you are unable from disability or lack of aptitude to find such a vocation work incredibly hard to surround yourself with people who possess useful skills and network them as much as possible- therefore helping to recreate your local economy lost to globalism-¬† if you have the knowledge, teach.¬† If you have a talent- explore it to it’s fullest capacity only giving up when you have reached the fullness of your potential to the fullest extent of the resources presented to you.¬† ¬†Fine art, music, literature, journalism, and education are the hallmarks of any civilized society.¬† We do not remember Ancient Rome, the Byzantine, the Goths and the Rennaisance masters only by their politics- but more by the quality of their artistry, architecture, and writings that still influence us today.

Strive to be useful, to contribute meaningfully- everything you have and everything you can to improve the world for the next generation.  Inspire self-respect, pride, courage, community, and all virtues you hold dear by embodying them.  Seek to improve yourself, your health both mental and physical.  If you are ill, seek treatment.  If you have sought all treatment and remain infirm in the body or damaged in the mind, strive to contribute in new ways-  strive to learn to be defined not by your deficits- but what strengths and talents you can express and share.  Everyone who lives long enough will eventually become infirm and in need of the care of others.   Some of us will have periods of illness early in life- some never at all.    Everyone suffers sometimes,  it does not need to be alone, in silence, hidden, or of shame,  admit to needing help- and be willing to put your pride aside if it gives you the hope of becoming greater in the future:  Even if your injury changes your path dramatically from your plans or dreams.

You should have a group of people in which you can speak freely, without judgment- always.  If you do not have such a group, find one.  If no group exists, make one.  If you are standing alone- one of two things will eventually happen, either your perspective will change or other people will see your courage and come to you.  Sometimes, both.

Change is inevitable- be honest about how you have evolved in your point of view.  Do not strive to be liked, strive to be authentic and to embody your personal ethic.

Always strive to improve, to contribute, to inspire, to encourage, and to flourish whatever your circumstances.  Be a person you would be proud to know-  if you cannot live by your ethic, you have the incorrect ethic guiding your life or need to seek the underlying issue preventing you from doing so.

See yourself as constantly growing, improving, adapting, changing, and most of all, honorable by your own standard of honor.  Do not allow your surroundings dictate your morality, rise above the baseline, always.  Intelligence and wisdom are learned traits.  Being born without immediately recognized genius does not preclude genius from being found later in life.

Okay, now specifics to myself and my individual experiences:

It has become easier for me to express myself to what would be considered the “alt right” instead of the “left”- the Left censors, reports, and seeks to silence dissenting opinion and controversial thoughts.¬† ¬†The more I have been censored and silenced- the further right I lean.¬† This has been true for countless people I have spoken to in the last several years.

The world has changed, my viewpoints have changed with it- I read extensively, enjoy watching documentaries, and as soon as I am told something is “forbidden” to read, watch, or study- I will defy those who demand I put on blinders.¬† ¬†I have read both the SCUM manifesto and Mein Kampf.¬† I prefer Mein Kampf.

Children are now being sexualized, abused, and confused all in the name of political correctness.  I was once a very earnest activist for the LGBT community-  Now I cannot in good conscience support any movement that is supporting giving fake penises to little girls under age 10 years old when at that age, it is not even appropriate to talk about sex, nor use an 8 year old child as a spokesperson for a website that sells adult sex toys and bondage gear.

There have always been Tomboys as well as little boys who prefer dolls- it does not mean that they require hormones to change their physical gender.¬† ¬†No child should undergo any procedure that is not absolutely medically necessary-¬† children are fluid, all optional, non-essential surgery, medications, etc- should not be administered until the child is old enough to be considered a legal adult through either emancipation or age of majority.¬† ¬†If I were born within the last ten years-¬† my childhood behaviors would have had me in a hormone program by a young age.¬† I never would have had the opportunity to realize there is nothing inherently wrong with my physical expression of my female gender.¬† No child should be made to feel they need elective “surgical correction” to live a life of happiness…if they do, that is the fault of the environment, not an inherent issue with the child.

There are two, primary physical genders and There are less than 1 in 2000 children born who are intersex. There has not been a successful birth to a male to female transsexual, nor has there been a female to male transsexual who has fathered children.¬† I am friends with people who have been born intersex- the movement to “out” them by claiming to “support” them has made their lives more difficult, not less.¬† ¬†Becoming transgender is now a fad that actually harms people who were born intersex and legitimately want to live quiet lives where they are not defined by their treatments, surgeries, etc.¬† ¬†Furthermore,¬† it undermines the rights of those they claim to present LGBTQXYZ-whatever movement attempts to “protect”

I studied Islamic history and practice for 4+ years.¬† Islam is NOT a feminist religion- it is not peaceful, and young men ages 18-40 are not ‘refugees’ when the result is in Islamic violence in Europe and the rape of small children.¬† There is a reason why when a country is liberated from Sharia law the first thing to go is the Hijab:¬† It is a symbol of female repression.¬† ¬†This is a religion that executes people even accused of homosexuality to death- and no amount of whinging about the peaceful Muslims who exist erase the damage created by those who enter non-Islamic countries and demand the local population to acquiesce to their foreign custom as opposed to showing respect for the host countries in which they inhabit.¬† ¬†I am 3 days without sleep and exhausted.¬† If you require it of me and request it specifically I will post links about Iran prior to the 1979 revolution, the murder of pet dogs harmed with treats spiked with nails in English speaking countries, recent history of executions of gay men, stoning deaths of women, the fact that it takes the testimony of 4 women within Sharia law to equal the words of a single male, violent gang rape of girls ages 10 and younger in Sweden, Germany, France, and Spain, violence, zones of extreme violence in 1st world countries whose crime rate has risen several hundred precent…. oh, and the fact that Mina, Saudi Arabia is outfitted with over a million tents with full plumbing only to be occupied one month a year for Hajj that if the “refugee crisis” really is as stated, would make more sense for the displaced peoples to be taken in by the heart of Islam itself- near Mecca, within an Islamic culture that does not conflict with Sunni values and create the violence we are witnessing in Europe.¬† I would vastly prefer if you use google search to perform your own research since revisiting these articles does not help my mental health and simply reminds me of a time in my life that was both difficult and incredibly harmful to me.

On the same vein-¬† attending a liberal arts college taught me most of all that our youth are being very strongly pushed into leftist propaganda without fair representation of other points of view.¬† Once a bastion of free speech, college campuses are now largely known to create “safe spaces” that exclude freedom of speech and expression by those who are not acceptable as part of the liberal curriculum.¬† I am not proud that I had to lie on essays for political science classes to match the politics of the professor to maintain my GPA as opposed to accepting a less than stellar grade for my honest opinions.¬† Hopefully, I am making up for that ethical oversight now-¬† however, no student should be graded by their belief system or personal experience, but rather the quality of their work and understanding of academic materials.

Example: Hitler saved 50% of my family from death by Stalin- who has been ignored my entire education from elementary school to university simply because Stalin was an “ally” to the United States in WW2.¬† ¬†The holocaust of native Baltic and other indigenous peoples is unknown outside of the few of us that remain from each of our ethnic groups.¬† My Latvian ethnic group of non-Russian volkdeutsch Dievturiba number less than 600- it is not a sustainable population, and despite reconstructionist efforts, our culture and others like it will die with barely a footnote in history unless other Baltics somehow gain a voice that is heard outside of ourselves.¬† We are part of Heathenry, as are the Saami, many Slavic peoples, as well as many indigenous tribes of polytheistic peoples in isolated pockets throughout Europe and Russia,¬† We exist, we did NOT convert to Asatru, Christian Asatruar converted to spirituality similar to our own. Some of us identify as Asatru or Odinist, some of us will refuse to the death.¬† (I am an Odinist-¬† Half Latvian/Half Hexerei- in my personal spirituality- Odinism encompasses both hereditary belief systems)

Neither Communism nor Corporate-oligarchy Capitalist systems work.  I am a Libertarian- I feel strongly politics should evolve with the needs of the population, the government should be limited in power and allow the greatest freedom for each citizen to live in accordance to their own happiness so long as it does not physically harm innocents nor intrudes upon the direct rights of other human beings.

Being light skinned is not a crime nor anything to be ashamed of.¬† We are beautiful-¬† we have ethnic groups and individual cultures.¬† The genotype for classically “Aryan” features (which extends from Iran and Georgia upwards through all of Europe and many parts of Russia) is actually a minority when compared to other “generalized” racial groups.¬† Here is some actual data from Wikipedia.¬†¬†¬†

It is okay to be white- however, it is even better to understand your cultural upbringing, unique customs, traditions, and religions.   My personal feeling is that we are happiest as people honoring the Gods of our own peoples- Hellenic, Norse, Swabian, Slavic, Baltic, Scandinavian, Celtic, and the literally countless other religions named and yet unnamed that exist.

Israel murders native Palestinians by the exact colonialism they condemn other nations using in the past.

All white neighborhoods in the USA have consistently lower crime than Non-Caucasian neighborhoods.¬† I am from Haverford, Pa- a town of incredibly low ethnic diversity:¬† no one here ever said “I feel safer in Norristown/Cheltenham/Chester”.¬† The movements that seek all black communities without the “interference” of non-black peoples in law enforcement or commerce have my full support-¬† you guys do you, I am perfectly content supporting this division if it means each person can choose to live where they are most comfortable.¬† Black on black crime far outstrips any record of white on black murders or police killing black males.¬†

There are several people of African descent I know who are fully integrated into non-violent US culture-¬† If a person contributes and integrates into a stable, healthy culture that not of their ethnicity- it is no different than an Italian in the early part of last century doing well in an Irish community.¬† It clearly happened- but before the Irish and Italians mostly lost their indigenous cultures in the American “melting pot”- there were conflicts and discrimination against both and violence between the two cultures.¬† Now we see both as simply “white” and the conflicts are mostly non-existent.¬† ¬†However, this is not the case for all peoples.¬† ¬†Aboriginals in Canada and Australia still face huge difficulties in maintaining the health of their populations when faced with the differences between their ancestral cultures and those of “outsiders”.

As a contradiction- it is perfectly safe to speak of aboriginal conflicts with corporate oligarchy- but almost impossible to discuss crime statistics of racial crimes between African versus European-origined people as a whole without outrage, censorship, or outright denial from those who wish to deny statistics.¬† ¬†The people who deny those statistics, scream the loudest, and seek censorship the most from my experience are Caucasians… who have made self-hatred their main self-identity.

I fully understand I will both gain and lose readership-  Also- this is my blog.  I am not writing for a public newspaper, journal, or academic paper.

If this blog post is censored or removed- it is denying my right to freedom of speech and expression in favor of saving the “feelings” of the offended.¬† I have threatened no one,¬† I believe in personal pacifism unless there is an injury to myself or those in my home are threatened- but I also respect those who are non-pacifistic.

I will never report any post, blog, facebook comment, or other forms of expression.  I will not tolerate abuse on my own wall.  Digitally, this is my home- and to respect my home, I will accept zero pejoratives, ad hominem attacks, nor any logical fallacy.  I can and will delete comments-  If you wish to refute what I have written, you are welcome to create your own blogspace to do so and link back to this writing.

I will continue to change as I age- and I will always strive to be authentic, courageous, and the type of person who can look at myself in the mirror without regret at the end of each day.


[Fiction xposted to r/nosleep] ‘I will never be anonymous.’

Posted in About me on January 13, 2018 by Tyrienne

I am alive… an incredible accomplishment all things considered. I have been happier in my current situation in life moreso than I have ever felt in the years leading up to my current circumstances: nice home, fantastic spouse, a home full of rescue animals, and I do not have to work for a living… since I am on total disability and my spouse makes decent money.

My diagnosis is PTSD/agoraphobia, and I have been mostly in remission, I scored a great therapist about a year ago who truly “got through to me”. Everything is technically wonderful, really and truly it is; and I am grateful for the progress I have made. Much of it owed to music- I play in a small, relatively obscure orchestra in an Appalachian city. Each week I brace myself for the one evening I spend with very nice strangers (unrealistic fears of rejection or getting into an accident on the way to or from practice, but I soldier through.)

I imagine I appear to others as an eccentric, nervous soul- I am no where near a *good* musician by any standard: the type of man any good Southerner would shake her pretty head at and say “Bless his heart, he tries!” After practices, I feel pretty good about myself.

*Hey, I made it there without crashing! Everyone is kind! I actually played some music and didn’t embarrass myself: Go me, woohoo!*

I like to pretend while I am there that my only secret is that my dead great-uncle was once a prominent member who made huge contributions to the group several decades ago. (He did, we do not share a surname.) I am happy to be there.


I am there for rehabilitation, for all my pretending- my secrets are heavy chains that weigh my psyche to the point where I am unrecognizable to myself. The past I have is frightening involving international politics and subsequently surviving physical and emotional torture thanks to my personal failure out of a program that was meant to train me for a cushy government job that never came to pass.
That If I could live my life over again- I never would have pursued in the first place, and truly never wanted except for the recruiters sweet honey of false praise of my intellect which I desperately craved at the time.

I came from a situation where during my training I constantly interacted with government employees who ‘made it’ and were coaching me- leading me through a batshit crazy breadcrumb trail of endless tutors in a myriad of languages, an unlimited supply of smart pills meant to ‘help me with my workload’ in my studies, and at times, police protection which I was okay with until it all fell apart when the program lost all government funding, I found myself handcuffed to a chair and threatened by the same people who once protected me.

I remember vividly being told how I would never leave that white room, the two uniformed men taking turns in their malicious glee of alternating between vicious insults, forcing me into physical contortions for their amusement- all the while as they read excerpts from a thick book of penal codes of offenses they delighted in sharing that they could charge me: any of them they desired. They could make up whatever ‘evidence’ they required; the terror was in not knowing what they wanted from me. Believe me, I asked. I begged.

Nothing in my training had prepared me for that, there was no inkling that I would ever find myself at the wrong end of the desk prior to those hours spent, my wrists chaffed, as I did not know I could have kept my dignity with silence. I had begun served my country at the age of nineteen, I spent years attempting to secure a coveted position in the local or state police only to be redirected into rigorous linguistic and cultural training to blend seemlessly into an alien culture half a world away.

To pass the test, I should have known to be still, demand a lawyer. I was na√Įve, undertrained, and from the drugs: deeply unstable already from ever present overwork and exhaustion. I was trained to make polite conversation and to teach the next generation of students who were to proceed me. To play a small part in improving the world, I thought.

Of course I failed, when the restraints were finally released I was a broken man. I was allowed one phone call: my cell phone was dead so I forced to rely on my slipping memory of numbers… which resulted simply in calling my ex girlfriend. We were not friends, but to her credit, she picked me up where they left me at the local police station.

I crumpled in the front seat of her car and she kindly allowed me use of her charger to call my own lover at the time who promptly dropped our relationship immediately- and who could really blame her? My ex’s fianc√© was already threatening me over her speakerphone for my audacity to call *his* woman, notwithstanding that the only reason I was able to even recall her number simply on account that it only comprised of a series of only two alternating digits.

I wanted to die, although I did not say as much; so I did not resist as I saw the forboding shape of the psychiatric hospital looming in the grey fog of early morning.

I still do not resent her for that, we were together for several unhappy years prior to our mutual parting of ways. Despite the unhappy years we spent together, she was far from ignorant of how my mind worked.

“Don’t call me again,” were her last words- I still thanked her before I entered the building and checked myself into treatment on my own reconnaissance.

So began my second imprisonment- one in which I spent fourteen days pacing the sterile, L-shaped ward. Several locked doors protecting the world from the broken souls like myself within them.

They took away my smart pills and replaced them with sedatives that did little except depress me further and sap my remaining strength except to walk and think, little more. I passed the time by counting the seemingly endless oversights of the facility to prevent death: The glass panes of the drab portraits of flowers on the walls could be shattered to slice wrist, throat, or other arteries. The bedsheets were thin and long- they were strong enough to make a noose, if I only possessed the motivation. The toilet had enough water and the lid of the tank could be placed over the back of the head to facilitate drowning. There was a single piece of iron rebar in the fenced in prison-like yard that was easily long enough and sharp enough to penetrate.

Yet, I remained an honest and compliant patient regardless.

Outside of speculation, I did not have even the will left to end my life then. My assigned therapist was the head of the hospital itself- who attempted to derail me in my suicide lists by playing a daily ‘game’ where he would ask me to attempt to discern the diagnosis’ of other patients in the privacy of his office.

He said I was brilliant, yet, in contradiction to his assertion indicated my life as a working, contributing member of society had passed as he filed paperwork on my behalf for total disability: inexplicably granted by the end of that summer after my discharge.

From other patients I knew there was a two year wait for even a written reply, much less a court date.

It was only July when I had been required to trade in my shoelaces for rubber treaded socks. My dignity in exchange for seemingly endless sessions of ‘group’ where we sat, glassy eyed all- and tonelessly repeated our failures in rooms without clocks, the purgatory of dehydration beyond tears.

Tears happened on the outside, to those who were yet still whole, unaware that the inner wells of human suffering could dry to dust.

After my discharge, I dreamt of feilds of wildflowers on fire where the blossoms did not burn. A woman in red with bright turquois eyes and a sad smile holding a rose that smelled of pelchior in a world of ash and dust. In the waking world, that woman eventually became my wife, much to my surprise, accepting this shell of my former self with endless patience and love.

It was the very beginning of happiness…and as the years passed, I learned to begin to accept myself as she loved me. Not as the extroverted maverick I once prided myself to be- but as a pensive dreamer lost within my own nightmares following her light and soundless steps out of my labyrinths of night terrors. Slowly, I began to see daylight from within, but always I remained a stranger to my new self.

Tonight was warm for January; during rehearsal the rain raised a hard crescendo to which even the loudest of our drums could scarcely compete. So we paused, waiting for it to pass.

Beside me, an older gentleman of nondescript features noticed the tattoos of fire and roses running up both my arms and asked for the story behind them to pass the time. (I had learned the endorphins released during the healing of tattoo ink silenced my mind temporarily a few years prior.)

As we spoke, I discovered he had succeeded in his youth where I had failed, long retired from a satisfying career in the agency which trained me so long ago. The rain stopped and I promised to tell him my story before we left.

“I have been meaning to speak to you,” he said while lighting his cigarette on the porch of the church which held our practice. The sky began to brighten as the world I had begun to love disappeared…I felt my wrists tighten and endless sky die once more inside those terrifyingly familiar white walls:

“…I told you that you will never leave this room alive you piece of shit.”

The Genius Next Door (fiction)

Posted in About me on October 14, 2017 by Tyrienne

The bells on the cafe door jangled quietly about fifteen minutes before closing as Leon was wiping down the condiments the last time for the night- caught embarrassingly, humming the tune to “Peter and the Wolf” and small parts of Wagner operas which he only vaguely recalled in mumbled phrases. Looking up, from the ketchup bottle he was presently de-crusting- he was about to explain the kitchen was closed but was beat to the punch:

“I was in town, I heard this was your newest haunt,” Diana looked the same as she did years before when he last saw her- her yellow-blonde hair shoulder length with a single band of braided hair like a headband, the same white and blue gingham shirt and jeans and friendly expression and smiling blue eyes. Her black boots matched the leather choker necklace. the only change being around her wrist she wore a tattoo of fernlike leaves and round clusters of tiny white flowers- it suited her well.”Hey there stranger, it’s been a while. I honestly cannot recall where we lost touch.”

“Yeah, I was on tour- a little bit of everywhere, I kinda lost touch with everyone.”

“No worries, I was pretty low and on so much shit I couldn’t remember my own name for a while… I got this to show for it” replied Leon wryly, raising his pant leg to reveal an ankle tracker. “I have been stuck in this shit town since I got out of prison- I was so fucked up I don’t even remember what the fuck I did.”
“No worries, bro- I was always the last person to follow up on gossip, I don’t really care. ”
“Still no cell phone, eh?”
“Not one that anyone has the number to, buddy.” she smiled “Hey, listen- I came by because I was wondering if you might want to come with me to New Berlin tomorrow morning. A sculpture I designed got installed and I want a good Heathen with me to see if they did it right- On the equinox, it’s supposed to cast just the right shadow if it was set up right, but it doesn’t mean a thing if no one is there to see it at sunrise.” Leon sighed and thumped his left leg on the table- pointing again at the ankle tracker
“I would… but… I am unable to leave Lakeside for a long time yet”
Diana reached into a rucksack she had over her shoulder and brought out what appeared to be a smoke alarm.
“Is anyone else closing with you?”
“Nope, just me.”
“Fantastic” and with that, she held the round, white device to the ankle bracelet and pressed a button on the front- the locking mechanism released and she was careful to keep the device held tightly to it as she moved it to around the leg of the table, “This thing prevents the circuit from being broken and transmitting that it was removed.” She carefully reconnected the bracelet around the table leg before removing the smoke-alarm looking device and placing it back into her bag.
“Tamper-resistant is not Diana-resistant, apparently. I thought you hated all technology.”
“Oh, I still do. I hate it enough to thwart it every opportunity.”
“They are going to look for me, you know- I really fucked up my life.”
“Everyone fucks up, Leon- do you want to get out of this shit town or not?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Are you willing to do anything?”
“Well, I let you break my probation in the first fifteen minutes of seeing you again- I guess I must trust you.”
“We were neighbors for ten years, man- that sort of frith is hard to shake- and I hate owing anyone like I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Diana-”
Reaching again into her rucksack, she brought out a pair of flip-flops and tossed them- he struggled but caught them.
“I do owe you, friendship is enough: Keep your socks on Japanese style, it’s fucking cold… you said people will look for you, the last thing we need is a trail. Leave your shoes here.”
“Where are we going?”
“New Berlin.”
“How? Won’t people see us leave? Where did you park?”
“The other side of the lake and they won’t see a thing- let’s go.” Leon carefully left his shoes in the backroom behind several stacks of boxes and carefully locked up the cafe, Diana looked at the sky wistfully, “Leon- it’s a woods adventure just like when we were kids. Even the sky looks the same. The only thing missing is the fireflies.”
“And weed…but I snuck a few hits at work from one of the servers. The tracker doesn’t detect cannabis, thank Gods”
“…I can’t help you there, but I got better- I brought my flask, it’s good. Homemade mead, aged at least eight years. I literally buried it at the old place just so I would have it for later.”
“Three rounds?”
“Whatever you like, it’s all yours. You’ll need it: We are going for a swim.”
“You’re insane- the lake is frozen!”
“Correction, half frozen… it’s more slushy than anything. I still keep everything I own in the car, However, you do not seem like a practiced polar bear so I suggest tossing your clothes so they don’t weigh you down.”
“I’ll freeze my balls off.”
“Funny, I never had that issue.”
The lake was located behind the cafe past the dumpster, Leon stripped down to his boxers and kept his socks and flip-flops tossing his remaining clothes in with the assurance that Diana was roughly his size and the clothes in her car would still fit him well enough, while Diana also stripped down to her underwear but put her clothes into her rucksack. It might have been awkward if they hadn’t known each other since childhood, or at least, it Diana showed no signs of discomfort despite the cold or lack of dress.
“How are we going to do this? Aren’t you concerned about hypothermia?”
“Just hold in your breath, until you come back up in full on the other side. After the initial shock of the cold, you will feel fine. Follow me.”
Diana dove gracefully into the thick water and disappeared, it was not a large lake- perhaps more like a glorified pond with a couple of docks. The moonlight on the rough half-frozen surface made it appear mushy and porridge-like and not particularly welcoming. Leon was more cautious and waded halfway into the thick water tentatively a few steps before taking a deep breath and plunging fully into the water; which was the last thing he recalled as his head went beneath the ice

Next thing he knew, he was wearing fresh clothes and riding in the passenger side of Diana’s aging Mustang- already in the city.
“Hey buddy- you okay? I didn’t expect you to get hypothermia so quickly. I guess I forget what it’s like when you aren’t used to washing up in the cold like I am.”
“I’m not even shivering, I feel fine- what happened?”
“Doesn’t matter, you made it out okay, and you aren’t naked. Good thing we stayed about the same size over the years you skinny bastard- isn’t New Berlin beautiful?”
It was beautiful- despite the early morning darkness, handsome people of all ages in business attire were walking briskly on the city sidewalks with purpose in all directions. The white marble buildings reflected the street lamps and traffic lights as if the structures were clothed in the colors they reflected. He had not seen the city in years, and when he did- it was under a different name and dilapidated seemingly beyond repair: Gone was the graffiti and boarded of buildings of the past he recalled. No more windows covered in iron grating or sad businesses locked up with chains and metal doors. The tacky scrolling marquis was replaced by glorious carved architecture and the windows of the skyscrapers above shined like stars.
“The roads seem a lot wider than I remember,” Leon noted.
” I think it is so people have ample opportunity to turn around.” she replied. It was an odd statement, but he didn’t know quite how to respond. “Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed as she pulled in front of the forgettable facade of one of the many tall buildings in center city. “This building has the absolute best view- and we still have about 20 minutes to get to the thirteenth floor.”
Unlike the other buildings in which lights flickered in the myriad of windows- this one was still black and seemingly asleep of human activity. They were not stopped as they entered, the security guard post was presently absent and Leon assumed he must have stepped out only for a moment- for there was only a very well trained black Alsatian dog wearing a red vest who approached him and gave a quick sniff.
“Hello puppy, are you the security guard on duty?” asked Leon in that stupidly high pitched voice people only use to greet dogs and infants. Diana rolled her eyes and the dog simple sat politely for scritches and made a sort of sound that sounded like a ‘borf’ in response.
“Do you want to keep petting the security or do you want to see something life-changing?” The dog snorted at Diana as if he understood her and wandered back behind the reception desk. Leon sighed and walked towards the elevators as Diana pressed the button for the elevator in the nondescript lobby and the door promptly opened the rode the elevator in silence until the door opened into a large hallway with floor to ceiling windows. The floor was of marble parquet mostly in white except for a large pattern in front of the one window which looked either to be a stylized sundial or a compass rose in a variety of colors. Diana walked excitedly to the center of it and motioned Leon to look outside the window.

Where there once was a statue of an old man with a scroll, there was now a figure with wings.
“…An angel?” he asked.
“Angels are technically depicted male or genderless- look again!” she exclaimed…And so he did, which was when he noticed in the dawning light the statue was holding a spear in one hand and a drinking horn in the other- the statue was indeed female depicted in a long gown beneath ornate armor, her skin was platinum white and her hair shined of golden metals. Those wings! Each feather was an individual slender pane of glass that caught sunlight and glowed brilliantly.
“A Valkyrie! Diana- she’s brilliant! When you said you created art I had no idea that it was of this magnitude- the entire city can see this forever. She is beautiful; I can’t think of anything more magnificent I have seen in all my life. It sure beats the statue of the old man pissing on the city before.”
“It gets better, look behind you.” So Leon turned and he saw Diana in the middle of the compass pattern and behind her, the dawning light reflected through the glass of the Valkyrie’s wings recreated the grand wingspan of light on the wall behind Diana- making the wings to appear as her own. “Four times a year, any woman who stands in one of the four buildings around city hall can feel like a Disir, even for only a moment- and the spear and horn create secret shadows as well. Look up.”
Sure enough, the shadows of the spear and horn created rough, angular symbols that were vaguely runic in appearance.
“They don’t look like any runes that I have ever seen- what are they?”
“Numbers. It’s the pentimal system- I learned it just after I saw you last.”
“That is genius, what does it mean?”
“What numbers to push in the elevator.” The sun was rising high in the sky and the patterns on the wall from the Valkyrie statue were diffusing. Diana walked with purpose to the elevator with Leon following- she pressed a few numbers in what appeared to be a specific order and the elevator lurched and hummed oddly before descending much more quickly than it rose before.
The door opened and mist flowed around them- before them, a bridge and the sound of fastly rushing water far below.
“…Shit.” muttered Leon, and Diana simply raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“I owe you, mostly, simply that you were honest regarding my memory. You did not canonize me nor did you destroy yourself over me. When it was time to get you, it was my honor to retrieve you myself. I just made your journey slightly easier than it would have been on your own. Go on, over the bridge- it’s a good place. I’ll see you there when I can. But, I still have a lot to work to do because of my own impatience.” she said, pointing at the leather strap around her neck, ” I took your debt and crossed you myself so you wouldn’t have the same obligations I do. Go on… shoo. Next time you see Garm you might not want to talk to him like a poodle, though.”

In Lakeside, police tape was being strung around the frozen lake- the film crews with their sleepy reporters were finding their places to report the drowning of a man who would be promptly forgotten as the garbagemen made their rounds emptying the dumpsters none the wiser. For a few days, people exchanged meaningless atheistic sympathies- as Leon’s death was quickly and intentionally forgotten except for the placement of a small sign that warned against swimming in the lake.

*Inspired by the song “The Genius Next Door” by Regina Spektor*

This post is unedited except for cursory spell checking. The story idea has been in my head forever- I always kind of figured people who intentionally commit suicide would be put to work by Hel herself to guide other people to the afterlife, but that is just my own UPG and I hold no claim to the veracity of it. I have lost many friends to early death over the years…especially in Autumn.

Upcoming Book

Posted in About me on June 8, 2017 by Tyrienne

I thank all of you who began following my blog in the past couple of months, despite my lack of new content. I do not want to become like many other bloggers who are simply commenting on current events like some sort of pundit, so I realized this may be the best time to actually work on a Heathen novel.  I have had this goal for quite some time-  I realize there is a lack of Heathen fiction and it is a niche that needs to be filled by hundreds of us.
As a child, I was inspired by the complicated worlds and thoughts of C.S. Lewis and as an adult, Philip Pullman and his “Golden Compass” series. ¬† Although my writing will likely not be geared to children like both the above authors- I would like to create a universe to the same breadth as they have but for our own people.

Writing is the closest we come to becoming Gods/Goddesses- in creating stories, we create and guide the lives of our characters and the worlds we create- and if we do it well enough, it becomes real in the mind of the readers.

As opposed to creating transient works of social commentary on the present, I would like to create an alternative future in literature, if I can. ¬†I already wrote one book in my life- my thesis, and it was agonizing. ¬†I believe I limited myself to blog posts and comments out of trepidation of the psychological illness my thesis elicited in me. ¬†My topic was “The Physical Theory of Time and How it Relates to Mystical Experiences.”

The problem is- when working with both physics and philosophies- the ideas themselves created a sort of insanity in me (and others, I have heard) that took years from which to recover.

I guess what I mean to say is that I hope I am well enough now to write with joy instead of sleepless nights over my keyboard crying from the psychological pain of deadlines and reaching so far to the limit of my intelligence to explain such intricate concepts.   Although my thesis was technically successful, the cost was high.

I feel if there is something I am truly meant to write- it should not be harmful to myself to write it- further, the more I am online recently, the more I find my psychological state is adversely affected.

I am incredibly grateful to everyone who follows and/or shares my writings as a resource- and even to those who have shared my writing critically and got my name out there.

Now that I have your interest, it would be irresponsible as a Heathen to not try to use what talent I have to try and pull myself up out of collecting disability by utilizing the resources all of you have provided-  I would rather look back on the past few years as a period of rest before creating something great rather than as a slow decline.

Hopefully, I can accomplish this goal.  I am still available as I have always been via comments and facebook for now.

All I ask is for good wishes that I can manage this endeavor.   We need more colorful Heathen fiction- and I hope to be one of the very many to provide it in physical copies of books that are not subject to erasure with a power outage.

I thank you for your support as always!