He Woke Me Up Again

Written on Sunday evening, elated about the idea of horses and sentimental conversations. I thought about deleting it because it's so shmaltzy, but then I decided to post it, because it's so shmaltzy, and clearly I have some sort of equestrian-cowboy obsession.

I rode a horse today. Finally. Not the experience I was exactly hoping to have, but I was on a horse none the less. And Vermont is so beautiful, I realized this morning on the back of a horse, at certain points exclaiming like a tourist (insert: Midwestern accent) "Oh my gosh, look at all the colors of those leaves. Shoot, that's just, that's just beautiful. Wonderful. Gosh. Leaves." Due to the fact that it was an "Outing Club" related activity, and there were 10 of us, and some people had never been on a horse before we didn't do much besides slowly march in a single file line around some trails. The horse they gave me was perfect, though. His name was Charger. He was hungry as shit, and didn't care what I was instructing him to do because when he felt like eating, he stopped and ate. I can respect that. He was sturdy, and majestic, and white. Sometimes he would look back at me, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. "I know dude," I would say to him, "I want to fucking run, too." They put me with him because, as one woman said, "He wants to be the leader of the gang". This horse is Rock and Roll. He would bite horses on the ass if he got too close to them, and he would kick any horse in the face if they got too close behind him. Alpha horse. I'm into that. Someday soon I hope to go back and ride again, when I can really ride, hooked onto such a spiritual beast, strapped into an instant-retard helmet, wearing approximately 18 and a half layers of clothing, smelling like horse shit, in the middle of the small green mountains, and remembering how grounding it feels to let something run beneath you. My friend Kellen always says that all girls go through two phases: A photography phase, and a horse phase. Guilty as charged. But I waited so long to do it again. It feels nice to do things again that are not directly related to being a liberal 23 year old female studying acting at a liberal arts college and living in a big city. Nice. Horses. Nice.