Alone

Alone doesn't mean "not with other people."
I have experienced alone.
Alone is when you are utterly isolated in mind and soul.
Alone is like an oceanless beach, dry and safe,
but without danger, what is "safe"?
When you are alone in body, you can dance and be yourself.
It's only when the others arrive that you hole yourself away
where you can hide in plain sight.
Some have wondered what the weight of the soul is.
Alone can give you that answer.
It is as large-heavy-dense as you need it to be in order to escape.
Alone is not bad.
It is you as you know yourself.
It doesn't mean "no friends".
It can mean no peers.
It can mean retreating until you feel
you can share who you are.
Alone is reached by yourself,
an independent achievement.
Alone is okay.

What's a guy to do?

POV: Caring guy with new girlfriend.

Well, today started out like any other day. I woke up, had some coffee, took a shower, and went out for a walk to calm my nerves.
Today was not normal, however.
Today, I was to meet my girlfriend's mother.
I was too jittery from the coffee to sit and watch TV, but too anxious to take another walk. Instead, I tried to pick out my clothes to wear for the visit. Casual? Business? Business-casual? I didn't want to be seen as a bum, nor did I want to be all tuxed up and ready to go.
At 1:00pm, the doorbell rang. It was my girlfriend.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she roared, "You were supposed to meet me and Mom for lunch at 12!"
"B-But-"
"C'mon!" She growled as she dragged me out the door.
When we arrived at her mother's purple-shuttered, daisy-gardened house my shoes came untied.
First I tied the Converse, then I tied the Aldo. All gussied up...
Suddenly, the front door swung wide open with a bang! "Well, hello dears..."
Why, her mother was a nice lady! "Come in, come in," she said sweetly. My girlfriend (ignoring my choice of clothing) walked right in. All I could do was saunter in apologetically and take the proferred armchair. Mother-dear poured us all a glass of tea in flowered china (How quaint!) and seated herself across the narrow coffee table. The paisley wallpaper danced across the bungalow's walls and the neatly vacuumed yellow rugs fuzzily tantalized my shod feet.
That's when I noticed the gun rack.
Mother-dear motioned to her daughter who immediately made a B-line for the kitchen.
And that is when my hell began.
CRASH! The coffee table shook from Mother-dear's (I now noticed) hefty fists. She stared me in the eye, pointed at the gun rack, and then at a strange tattoo on her bulked up forearm- a bunch of acorns.
"This," she menacingly hissed, "is a record. All the nuts who broke her heart...? Well, I ripped out theirs! DON'T BE THE NEXT ONE!"
"Now, you walk her home, buy her an engagment ring, and treat her right...
... or else."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up, I started my day like any other day...

Simplicity

A quiet drop still ripples in a busy pond.

A letter

Good-bye you evil harpie, you wicked witch.
I won't miss you.
If I do feel a twinge of regret, I absolutely refuse to acknowledge it!
You laughed at my normalcy, my life as I knew it. You dragged me off of the deep-end, and until my eyeball was pressed against the bottom drain, you had me so deceived that I still called you friend.
Because of you, little things are what makes the crazy come out. Today, in fact, I laughed and teared-up hysterically because the boy on the intercom sounded like Spongebob. Everyone was being normal, like usual, and I just couldn't stop laughing.
It's all because of you.
Because of you, when I'm brushing my teeth, I make strange faces and end up choking on toothpaste because of my laughter. Every time I giggle, chuckle, laugh, guffaw, hoo-rah I think of you.
You have poisoned my life.
I get strange looks. Me-the serious one, because of seeming bouts of insanity. Sometimes people laugh at me- and I join in.
Because of you, people claim that I've lightened up, have learned to live life to the fullest.
Because of you, get this, I've become "a better person."
And it's all because of you.
Thank you.

To write

Have you ever watched someone write?
Have you ever identified those born calligraphic, with their long liquid strokes, holding the pen like a delicate canary bone, creating art with every waltzing dance of their wrist?
How about those who are destined writers, with their fevered devotion to the words spilling onto the page, with no care to the formation of individual letters, just an energy and tempo so intent?
Have you ever watched those who never learned the fluent language that wrists share with fingers, which translate to the foreign language of the pen? They bend over the paper, fists clenched about the pen, with their mouths agape as they clumsily transfer their thoughts doggedly and with much effort.
Strong hands, soft palms, angled wrists, fingers bent just-so.
Writing might be one of the characteristics of advanced society, but it would be nothing were it not for the thick, thin, strong, weak wrists which faithfully translate thoughts shallow and profound.
These are beautiful things.

Over again

I am so glad I've started my life over again. To be given a crack at happiness is like having been imprisoned for millenia and finally having your chains fall away.
Away.
Away is where I moved to, after a short good-bye to a life filled with strife. Those days are simply unpleasant memories, never forgotten but vestigial. Seldom ever do people recognize a second chance until it is far too late to act on the offer.
I was lucky.
In starting over again, I have experienced no pain post partum. All membranes of attachment have been dissolved, and I have been able to live free and happy. I am no longer a refugee from life.
I am alive.

Brave Heart

It's official: I'm getting a horse! This is Life Goal Number One for me, and I'm finally accomplishing it. His name is Brave Heart; I plan on calling him "Willie," after William Wallace, the real Brave Heart. He's AMHA reg, and isn't even a yearling, which is fantastic for me as a trainer. He should mature to be around 31 inches tall with perfect conformation. He'll be new "breed standard" blood on PEI, and to top it all off, he is not related to any minis on the island.


Unlike with Cheyenne, who I had minimal contact with until 2008, I'll be able to start this guy young. I expect him to respect boundaries, turn to the left first, walk, trot, and back up before we start anything really intensive. No jumping until he's three, no cart until he's two and a half, and no breeding until he's three. This will give him time to grow and mature until he is physically and mentally capable of accomplishing these things. We'll be turning him out with the rest of the herd until he's one, and then we'll separate him and put him with Monty. I am so very excited; I have many hopes and dreams for this little guy, and I'm confident he can live up to them.

I shall call him Willie and he shall be mine and he shall be my Willie.

Summer 2010, in short

Well, I had a fantastic summer here on PEI. I competed in six miniature horse shows with the horses I trained myself. Over the course of the summer, Montana and Cheyenne have taken home one 6th, two 5ths, six 4ths, three 3rds, eight 2nds, thirteen 1sts, and a Reserve Champ. This is the second year I have ever competed in any horse shows, with very tough competition to boot (come of these kids have been showing since they were two!). Hopefully, I'll have two horses trained and ready to compete in driving classes for next summer! The best part of showing for me is training the horse, and showing it yourself; that way, even if you don't place, you have the satisfaction of knowing that your horse did a good job, and is gaining experience. ...Of course, building a good reputation helps, too. :)

As far as riding goes, I'm still riding Dama, the Icelandic horse. We have progressed very far in the short year that I've been riding her. She's gone from not understanding leg cues to me being able to steer her with minimal leg and rein pressure. She backs up willingly, moves forward without balking, and will even go for rides outside of the the field (BIG change, let me tell you!). She is attentive, and no longer looks peeved at being saddled. I am just very happy with her overall. I do miss horses with a large stride though (AJ)!

Also this summer, I went to vet camp at the Atlantic Veterinary College. It was a lot of fun, and very very interesting. We got to dissect pig hearts, watch a necropsy done on a calf, and work on some bacteriology and parasitology labs, among other neat things. Also, a few kids fainted, so I guess not everyone was having as good a time as I was. Oh, well.

Creative Writing Club

Well, I have many excuses for not writing. I have been very, very busy these past few weeks, what with Art Club, Yearbook, SAGL, driving, riding, training, and Creative Writing.
Speaking of Creative Writing, last night I had a poetry reading at the Confed Center. We all did very well. I look forward to being part of the group again next year!

The event ended at 9:00 pm, and I was planning on going straight home to go to bed, but my friend Al1 and Al2 invited me over to Al2's house to watch a movie. Well, I could not resist. Instead of going to bed early, I stayed up until 12:30. We didn't even end up watching the movie; we just sat around and talked for hours! That's how you know you have good friends: you can talk for hours about a variety of topics without getting bored. We don't need booze to have a good time, unlike the curmudgeons of my age group. Having a group of intelligent and zany minds is enough entertainment for me.
At any rate, Al1 told an awesome story. Here goes:
Al1's dad has a friend who has a son with high functioning Down Syndrome, enabling her to leave her son home alone while she goes to work during the day. On one particular day, she left for work as usual, leaving her son at home for the day. All was well until about two hours into her work day, when she received a somewhat panicked phone call from her son. "Mom! Mom! Mom!" "What's the matter, honey?" "There's a troll in the closet! A TROLL IN THE CLOSET!" Of course, she assumed that he was just doofing around as everyone is known to do on occasion. "Okay. I'll check it out when I come home, okay?"
A few hours later, she walked into her house, to find that the front hall closet had been barricaded by her writing desk, and her son was pushing against it to keep the closet door shut. The closet door was rattling and shaking, and her first reaction was to think 'Hmmm... That must be a big raccoon or something.' She convinced her son to pull the desk out of the way, and she carefully opened the door to find.... a midget in the closet! He was a Jehovah's Witness, and he had apparently been doing his rounds when he knocked on the door, and was pulled inside and stuffed into the front hall closet having been mistaken for a troll.

What a silly little person!

Famine

Sing sweetly, sap, and
Sickening,
Out here among the flowers.
Eyes to the sky,
Filled like a pie,
Where crows and locusts
Glower.

Now swooping down,
These morbid clowns
Do set upon a shower
Of buckwheat, rye, and corn flowers
All grain gone,
Work of hours.

Now eyes awake
With sweating palms
The farmer loses sleep
And paranoid of living storms
That do his harvest
Reap.

American Indians

The term "Native American" was originally introduced in the United States by academics in preference to the older term "Indian" to distinguish the indigenous peoples of the Americas from the people of India, and to avoid negative stereotypes supposedly associated with the term "Indian". Because of the acceptance of this newer term in academic circles, some academics believe that the term Indian should be considered outdated or offensive. However, many actual indigenous Americans prefer to be called American Indian. Also, some people point out that anyone born in the United States is a native of America, and that the academic who first promoted Native American confused the term native with indigenous. People from India who are citizens of the United States are called "Indian Americans" or "Asian Indians."

Criticisms of the term Native American come from diverse sources. Many American Indians have misgivings about the term Native American. Russell Means, an American Indian activist, opposes the term Native American because he believes it was imposed on the Indians by the government without consent. He has also argued that this use of the word Indian derives not from a confusion with India but from the Spanish expression "En Dio," meaning "in God". Some American Indians question the term Native American because they argue that it serves to ease the conscience of "white America"* with regard to past injustices done to American Indians by effectively eliminating "Indians" from the present. Both Indians and non-Indians argue that the term Native American is problematic because "native of" literally means "born in," so any person born in the Americas could be considered "native". However, very often the compound "Native American" will be capitalized in order to differentiate the intended meaning from others. Likewise, "native" can be further qualified by formulations such as "native-born" when the intended meaning is only to indicate place of birth or origin.

A 1995 US Census Bureau survey found that more Native Americans in the United States preferred American Indian to Native American. Nonetheless, most American Indians are comfortable with Indian, American Indian, Amerindian and Native American, and the terms are often used interchangeably. The traditional term is reflected in the name chosen for the National Museum of the American Indian, which opened in 2004 on the Mall in Washington, D.C.

Why classify people, and then worry about offending them? If only people would think before speaking.

Sources:

Jack Larkin (2003). "OSV Documents- Historical Background on People of Color in Rural New England in the Early 19th Century." Old Sturbridge Inc. http://www.osv.org/explore_learn/document_viewer.php?DocID=2044. Retrieved 2010-3-21.

"I am an American Indian, Not a Native American!". Russell Means. http://www.peaknet.net/~aardvark/means.html. Retrieved March 21, 2010.

"What's in a Name? Indians and Political Correctness." All Things Cherokee. http://www.allthingscherokee.com/atc_sub_culture_feat_events_070101.html. Retrieved March 21, 2010.

"American Indian versus Native American." Infoplease. http://www.infoplease.com/spot/aihmterms.html. Retrieved March 21, 2010.

The Book of Negroes

I recently finished The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill. I had very high expectations for the book, as everyone I know who has read it has raved about how much they loved it and how "emotionally intense" the story is. A friend of mine lent me the novel, and I delved straight away into the book.
The story sucks you right in, to the effect that you can't put the book down. Aminata Diallo is a believable heroine, an ex-slave and a respected leader in every place she's traveled. She narrates the story, in first-person participant told from a future time. The language is well thought out, but simple. Overall, a good read.
However, the book did not live up to my expectations. It was a tad disappointing. The reason could be that the events are narrated in such a way as to be distant. The novel was predictable; even the big surprise at the end was something that I predicted halfway through the story. A lot of the parts that people seemed really shocked at (the people in this case being from liberal Canada) didn't even make a tug at my heart. Perhaps I have been desensitized to violence, or at least the watered down, alluded-to violence that is prevalent in this book. Perhaps not. Either way, though I couldn't put the book down, I just wasn't satisfied with it as a whole.
I recommend this book as an interesting read, but I'm not sure if it would be worth reading twice. Feel free to disagree with my review, I look forward to hearing a counterpoint.

Books to read twice: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, and Nikolski by Nicolas Dickner

Hosses, pt.2

Continuing on...

Every two years or so, Mom would buy me a pair of riding boots. I believe this was a compromise or maybe an apology on her part for not being able to have me take riding lessons or have a horse of my own. I had two pairs of brown Miller riding boots, size 4. I would wear them when I would play with Sal or ClipClop, or on the rare occasion of actually having horse-time, such as the Camp Runels horse camp I went to two years in a row. We bought them at the local tack shop in Pelham. Whilst I wandered around the tack shop one day, Mom struck up a conversation with the girl at the counter. When we finally got into the car to drive home, I was told that I would be going riding. The girl at the counter was named Jainey, and she had a buckskin mustang named Topaz*. She was going to let me see Topaz and ride for real! We arrived at the barn in the dark, cold, and snow. I think Mom was freezing, but I was having a ball. Jainey and I tacked up Topaz, and I had my first ride in the snow on a "wild" mustang. It was terrific, even if it was just walk-trot for a half hour. We went to go see him just one other time, a few years later, at a different barn. As you all probably suspect, I had a fantastic time once again.
In the third grade, a co-worker of Dad's named Jeri invited me over to see her horses. She had three, in a little barn in her backyard. I got to ride her big old bay named Charlie. It was a lot of fun riding around in the small shady paddock. Soon after, I did a science project on horses (surprise surprise). For my presentation, I asked Jeri if I could borrow one of her saddles, and she promptly complied. I had an awesome, original, interactive** presentation; everyone else's projects were the typical vinegar and baking soda volcanoes. For many years, I tried to return the saddle to her, but she would just send it back saying "You can give it back once you've used it." I had Dad bring it to work over and over and over again, but she sent it back every time. Finally, after having kept the saddle for over six years, she told me to keep it. It was my first real piece of tack.

to be continued...



*"Wow a real wild mustang!"
** Kids could sit in the saddle or play with my model horses that I brought. Or, if you were really prepared to be bored, you could have me recite the entire muscle and skeletal system of a horse by heart. In case you were wondering, I am a horse nerd.

What is the Difference Between Awake and Asleep?

When you fall awake
Into your own world and
Slumber up to face the day,
Is there a difference?

When you open your eyes
To a brand new world,
With new and familiar
Characters every night and
Every day,
Is there a difference?

You dream that you are awake
And wandering,
And when you sleep,
You awake and continue
The journey that paused
The night of nights ago.

So I ask you,
What is the difference
Between awake
And
Asleep?

Two (or three) mini sagas

"Mini sagas are stories written in 50 words, not more, not less. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, it's not. You might have the perfect story laid out, and the execution is flawless until you count the words."
"54 words?"
"No problem, just compound a few words."
"It's perfect!"
"Count again."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ramone, a grand intellectual, once stupored in front of the television for a week. Slowly, his thoughts became not his, but a corporation's. His brain stewed by propaganda and a need for material wealth, he went out into the world a new man. He now resides in a ditch, decomposing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once, my clone appeared, claiming that I was her clone. We had a seat on the floor and sat for hours chatting away merrily, or at least I was, she didn't have much to say. Someone knocked on the door and startled me. My foot shattered her into silvery shards.

Stay Classy

I'm sick of babymamas,
Prostitutes in disguise.
Many sirens screaming at night,
Gunshots bursting through any meagre silence offered.
I'm sick of police roaming the school
And walking the beat, observing the street.
People in poverty buying cellphones and iPods, and
Selling drugs out of their baby's stroller.
I'm sick of idiots strolling around
With their pants on da ground.
I'm sick of names like Sheniqua, Latifa, and Jamal.
I'm sick of domestic disputes between toothless lard bags,
And their common-law breakfast
Of chips with mayo.
I'm sick of white kids from the burbs
Trying to be gangsta, while the real gangs
Shoot and leave each other in the gutter.
I'm sick of corruption and poverty and hopelessness,
And the rappers that the four-year-olds drinking
Coke from the bottle adore and emulate.
I'm sick of the man-child, hanging on to his girl
For dear life,
And seeing the best people
Living out on the street.
I'm sick of smoggy sunsets and starless skies.
I'm sick of the crack, the cranks, and their city.
I'm leaving home.

A Special Person

Shown the most care by her parents, she still feels alone, unloved. She depends heavily on many friends and activities but still is isolated. She cannot walk easily, and is passive and fierce alternately. She doesn't talk to many, but once she does, she can't stop. Having always depended on people to help her do the most basic things, she craves independence, but is afraid to be alone. A very passionate person when it comes to her friends, she is often confused or left behind, simply because she cannot walk alongside them and know what they know.
She is a tiny person with many sugical scars, a strange posture, and a lazy eye. This is what most people see. But to those who know her, who listen and understand, she is a beautiful person with a large heart, an empath. You can count on her to be an unconditional friend from the moment you treat her with respect, even in passing. Love can be a difficult thing to share, but she spreads it in abundance every where she goes.
She is a weirdo, my best friend.

Happy Birthday (Catcher-in-the-Rye-esque)

Friday was my birthday. I stopped having real birthday parties once people decided that not letting me know that they aren't actually coming was in vogue. Instead, I now enjoy spending the day with my family and being the center of attention which, being the middle child, is a big deal.
We haven't had the whole family together without the extended family crashing our get-together since Christmas 2008. It is difficult to adjust to having to share the bathroom with two extra people, and not knowing when someone is going to be a bit strange on whatever day. One thing that really gets me is the fact that I'm ill equipped for dealing with even more highly intelligent people traipsing throughout my home. My emotions go off the charts because it's almost like I know what they are feeling before they even know. It's always been that way, but it's even worse after finally getting used to not seeing my siblings around and then being suddenly bombarded with their prescence in the house. The thing that kills me is that usually their responses are illogical and do not match with what they are emoting at the time, and I overreact as a result.
I love them, I really do, but it seems that we all have to relearn how to deal with each other or else someone is going to go off the deep-end.
Happy Birthday.

Kingdom Animalia

Animals are heterotrophic multicellular eukaryotes. These organisms ingest food and most digest it in a central cavity. All animals reproduce sexually, although some members of some phyla can reproduce asexually.
CHARACTERISTICS:
All animals, excepting poriferans and cnidarians, have three germ layers of cells. These layers are as follows: the ectoderm (outer layer), the mesoderm (middle layer), and the endoderm (inner layer). The ectoderm develops into the skin, nerve tissue, and sense organs of the organism. The mesoderm becomes the muscles, blood, kidneys, and reproductive organs. The endoderm develops into the lungs, liver, pancreas, bladder, and stomach lining.
Except for sponges, all animals digest food extracellularly in a wholly or partially developed digestive system. Animals can be classified according to two digestive plans. The "sac body plan" has only one opening to the gut. Food and wastes enter and exit through one opening; this plan is termed "incomplete." The "tube-within-a-tube body plan" features two openings to the gut. Food enters through one opening and leaves through the second, earning this system the designation of "complete."
Most animals have symmetrical body plans, one that is regular and balanced. Some possess radial symmetry, in which the organism's body is organized equally around a central vertical axis. Others possess bilateral symmetry. This is when the body can be cut into two equal, mirror-image halves through only one vertical plane. There are four body surfaces on a bilaterally symmetrical organism: the anterior (front), the posterior (behind), dorsal (top), and the ventral surface (bottom). The sense organs are concentrated at the front to help orient the organism in its environment. There will always be an exception to the rule, however, and that would be sponges. Sponges do not move as adults and are asymmetrical.
The coelum is a fluid-filled body cavity completely surrounded by mesoderm. It provides space for the development and suspension of organs and organ systems. Animals with a coelum are known as coelumates, and those without: acoelumates. A coelum gives animals a structure to brace their muscles against, allowing them to respond and move more quickly. A coelum allows for more complex organ systems to develop.
Some animals produce asexually as well as sexually. Poriferans and many worm species can develop entirely new organisms from fragments of the parent. All animals produce sperm or eggs, and can carry out sexual reproduction. Less complex animals can have both male and female organs; these hermaphrodites produce sperm and egg cells, enabling them to reproduce without a mate.
IN SUMMARY:
Characteristics such as body symmetry, the presence or absence of a coelum, and the number of germ layers may be used to classify animals. Animals are multicellular heterotrophs. The simplest animals have two cell layers and a single body opening. The evolution of three cell layers and a coelum allowed animals to become more complex and mobile.
Use some of the words from this entry next time you play Scrabble!

United States of America, 1786-1800

The central government's strength grew out of the Constitution created in 1787 by delegates from all of the North American British Colonies.
Nationalists had long argued for a strengthened union of the states. The nationalists were drawn from the elite circles of American life. Nationalists included merchants, former officers of the Continental Army, and conservatives who wanted to restrain what they believed to be the excessive democracy of the states.
In March 1785, a group of men from Virginia and Maryland, including James Madison, George Mason, and George Washington (see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbRom1Rz8OA), drafted an agreement to present to legislatures recommending uniform commercial regulations, duties, and currency laws.
Only five states sent strong nationalist delegates to the Annapolis Convention in September 1786. Alexander Hamilton drew up a report to call on Congress to endorse a new convention to be held in Philadelphia to discuss all matters necessary to render the constitution of the federal government adequate for the newly formed union's present and future needs.
Despite serious disagreements between localists (supporters of state autonomy) and nationalists, most Americans agreed that the Articles of Confederation needed strengthening, especially in regard to commercial regulation and the generation of revenue. Early in the year of 1787, the Confederation Congress cautiously approved the plan for a convention for the sole purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation.

Hosses, pt.1

I am a very fortunate person. Even when things go wrong, something is always going right. Since I moved to PEI, everything has been moving according to a plan that I've had since I was very young. New things, even, have been worming their way into this plot line. For instance, I've always wanted to move to PEI (check), have horses to work with and build my equine reputation (check), graduate early (in progress), and work with a large animal vet (next year).

Before we continue any further, you'd best be warned that this is going to be a looonngg story, mostly about horses. Ready? Okay.

When I was really little, I always wanted a horse. Not a pony, a big horse! I had a rocking horse, who I named Sal. She was my mom's rocking horse when she was a little girl, and you could tell that she had been loved very much, as she was missing large patches of her velvet coat. I made up all sorts of adventures with this rocking horse, including cattle roundups and the Kentucky Derby. Sal was my gal. I still have her today, up in my room with a big duct-tape patch on her back, which had been worn down to the straw from so many long hours in the saddle. After a few years, there was a new arrival: a spring horse, who I promptly named ClipClop, after my favorite video ever. I think he was supposed to be Kathryn's or Aaron's horse, but that was no deterrent for a horse-loving little girl. I spent hours on that thing, bouncing around at a gallop.
There was, of course, an enabler for this addiction. Her name was Auntie Mal. My cousin Kerry took riding lessons, so every now and then, I would get a trip to the tack shop where I could buy a brush, or maybe a stuffed horse to play with. Those trips were the best.* One time, they took me for a short riding lesson with Kerry's teacher, Jill. That was a blast, and I was not afraid to let people know it.** After that, I was especially keen to go for pony rides when ever I could, eventually moving up to trail rides on dead-sided horses. I lived for those days! Every summer when we would go to PEI (thanks Harvey!), I would get a pony/trail ride, which would only make my excellent stay better. I was ready to stick my foot in the door of the horse world. Maybe.

to be continued...


*I still get at least one of these trips per year, but now it's for things like grooming supplies, treats, and tack.
**Auntie Mal still loves to tell me how funny it was when I yelled from the saddle "I'M THE BEST RIDER IN THE WORLD!"

*bonus*
-Mom used to dress me up as a cowgirl.
-All of my pictures as a little kid show me wearing cowgirl clothing or playing with horses.
-It was all thanks to Harvey that we ever went to PEI in the first place.

Valentine's Day!

Ah, Valentine's Day. A day for spreading the love, buying yourself chocolate hearts, and for women to make futile attempts to "look pretty." On that last note, how many you, my dear readers, have heard of the fashionable abomination of "Bumpits"? These things are phenomenally ghetto, and I suspect that people in some cities (*cough*Lowell*cough*) will be seeing these hair-humps on the Puerto Rican fashion scene.
When I hear the word Bumpits, I don't think of 60s-era-marine-dinosaur-dorsal-combs. I think of someone having bums in their pits. As in, when the person raises their arms, they have little butts in their armpits! Disgusting! Hopefully, now that we are all educated in the underlying meaning of this word, we, the denizens of the world, will know better than to put such atrocious things in our hair.
The bottom line of all of this is: If you are going to humiliate yourself, do it for a good cause, such as the SPCA, not a lost cause, such as thinking that men actually care what you put in your hair.

Happy Valentine's Day! Hopefully your loved ones love you for who you are, not what you look like. Love, Love, Love.

An Intro

I am me.
An almost adolescent mind,
Always more, seldom less.
My life is ruled by equines,
And my future is uncertain.
I have many grand plans.
School is important,
But knowledge,
Even more.
Art is intrinsically
Woven through my mind,
Yet analyses are
My game in life.
Neither graphic,
Nor mundane,
I am interesting and odd.
I dress conservatively,
As style beats fashion every time.
I'm not quite a girly girl,
But I'll still play with ponies
Any day.
When I grow up,
At the age of 90,
Maybe I'll upgrade
To Abby four-point-oh.