My new bedroom set arrived today! (Taken with instagram)
My sisters beautiful horse Lula (Taken with instagram)
Lazy Stella in her shady spot. (Taken with instagram)
Hanging out With Stella bear. (Taken with instagram)
I used to write all the time. In online journals, paper journals, word documents on my computer — for nearly 15 years now. I was a blogger before the term “blogger” even existed. It’s always been sort of a passion of mine. I’ve never aspired to write a novel or anything, but I’ve always loved putting my thoughts and stories on paper, sometimes even for others to see. I stopped writing and sharing about a year ago. I landed my dream job and I no longer needed my love for writing that got me through middle school, high school, college, and life after college in retail hell.
While logging a few miles on the treadmill today, a song came on that brought back memories of my horseback riding days and I got the sudden urge to write about it.
So here I am.
I have a pretty awful long term memory (maybe thats why I’ve grown to love to write — a way of reliving the past without actually having to remember) but a lot of my horseback riding days have always stuck with me. I remember my first time ever riding a horse… I was terrified and clinging onto the horses mane while hunched over and burying my head into its neck. As a 6 year old, I hadn’t experienced a fear that acute. After about 10 minutes I was lifted off the horse where I felt knee buckling relief. Later, I watched the older kids ride around the barn and felt an incredible sense of awe. The horses fled by in a flash with their riders clucking, sometimes yelling, and dirt flying everywhere. The horses seemed unrelenting and their riders confident. While watching them, I made a vow to myself that no matter how scared I was, I would become just like them.
And I did. My trainer had a reputation for being ruthless. She trained not only her riders to be great equestrian riders, but more importantly, how to be fearless. Id get on any horse without hesitation. Whenever a horse reared up, I’d cling to its mane with one hand and take the whip and strike its behind with the other without my heart skipping a beat, without a flinch. And whenever I fell off (which surprisingly wasnt as often as you’d think — knowing me now) I got right back up and on that horse (just like that silly cliche) and fought back tears the rest of the lesson because of the pain. I could endure anything for 45 minutes and in my mind there was no way that horse was getting off easy the rest of the lesson. I was ruthless and fearless, just like Wendy trained me to be.
Having all that confidence and fearlessness and control over something 10 times my size was one of the most euphoric feelings I’ve ever felt. There was only one thing better than that. It came after a lesson, on one of those rare days where the spring or summer weather beckons you and your horse is still antsy with energy to dispense. We’d take off to the back field without the watchful eyes of an instructor. Just me and the horse. Horse and rider. And a big open field devoid of any trails or arenas. I’d relax my legs, lean forward, let the rains go slack, grab fistfuls of mane… And, takeoff. This wasn’t a controlled canter. It was a full on run and I wasn’t the least bit in control. The wind would burn my cheeks and my surroundings were a blur and all I could hear was the rythmetic stomp of hooves. I’ve never felt so invincible, never felt so free than i did in those moments of letting go in that grassy, open field.
When I became 16, cars and friends and boys took more and more precedence over riding. When college came, it was merely an old hobby I used to love. Sometimes I want to take it up again. Whenever I go out to the stables these days, the smell of the stables — manure, hay, and dirt — still smells like freedom to me. But it’s also not the same. When you’re 12 years old, you don’t worry much about broken bones and snapped necks. As a 27 year old, you do.
Visiting the stables is sort of like what I’d imagine having lunch with an old boyfriend would be like. Fun to reminisce about old feelings but an unnerving feeling of how much things have changed. It’s hard to stay friends with an ex — it’s equally hard for me to fall back in love with horseback riding or even pick it up as a casual hobby. I’ll never be able to reclaim those euphoric feelings. It won’t ever be as freeing or as fun as it was 10 years ago.
I’ll always miss riding. And i’ll always love those humongous, gentle creatures and carry all those fond memories. And maybe eventually I’ll be able to accept that even though it won’t be the same, I can learn to enjoy it again. Just in a different way.
Also, one of my greatest flaws when it comes to writing (besides run-on sentences, hah) — I’ll never be able to end remininscings or strings of thought without wanting to wrap it up in a horribly cheesy way. I’ve never liked the way authors always end their stories in a neat and tidy way with a happily-ever-after bow, but I can’t ever stop myself from doing the same.
(Source: dirtylittlestylewhoree, via envishoes)
(Source: firsthome)
02152012 (by Annemiek .)
“No matter what you have been through, you aren’t dead inside like you think you are. You haven’t given up yet. You’re hopeful, not cynical. There are people out there who have given up. There are people who live with someone they don’t love anymore. There are people who are stuck with someone they don’t know how to leave. There are people who know exactly what tomorrow is going to look like. You don’t. Thank god for THAT. Stay neurotic. Stay frustrated. Stay emotional. Stay excited. Your life is happening.” — Erin Foster, Single Girls Guide: Valentine’s Shmalentine’s on HelloGiggles (via cutiepatchouli)
(Source: maddiemaeby, via hellogiggles)
“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” — Jack Canfield (via paradise-garage)
(Source: kari-shma, via nathanielstuart)
Arrived to work and found vday treats. My co-workers are cute. (Taken with instagram)
(Source: nathanielstuart)
“Finishing a book is bittersweet. You spend days getting to know the characters. Learning their nuances, their faults, their loves, their lives. They become your friends, acquaintances, enemies. And after the story ends, you miss them. You look for them in your own life, wonder where they’ve gone, you forget that they aren’t real. You fall in love with the hero and dream of him at night. The strange girl becomes your best friend. Their heartaches become your heartaches. You laugh when they laugh. And cry when they die. Eventually you realize they aren’t a part of your world, you were just briefly visiting theirs.” — (via reading-as-breathing)
(Source: whimsicalenlightenment, via symbiosis)
“I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person.” — Olivia Wilde (via nathanielstuart)
Watching Ides of March with my buddy. (Taken with instagram)