I fell off my horse today. Now let me get one thing straight: when it comes to NOT falling off, I am a freaking ninja. No matter how I'm unseated, I can usually get back in the saddle and get the horse to stop without ever touching the ground. But with James, my technique is thrown way off, because if you DON'T fall off right away, he gets scared. And when he gets scared, he bolts.
So we were heading for a jump today, and he refused and ducked left, which got me mostly out of the saddle. I was on his neck, clinging, as he turned around and took off. I was almost back in the saddle, and if he hadn't bolted, I would have been fine. But off I went. And our arena is sand. I had sand in places I didn't know existed. Hell, I was a walking desert. It was in my EARS. And I didn't even land on my face! But I survived, more or less in one piece. (One piece of what?) I will now have a rather nasty bruise on my leg that promises to be several shades of the rainbow within the week.
So here's my secret to staying on: you have to be THAT afraid of hitting the ground.
I really considered murdering my biology teacher today. She gave us a list of fifty terms and fifteen short answer questions, due Tuesday. And I'm thinking, Lady, this is an honors class. I'm taking two AP classes, and you think I have time to do this nonsense? I have about five chapters of the Scarlet Letter to annotate, an ID list for APUSH plus at least two essays to outline, I have to start reading Founding Brothers, and start studying for my Pre-calc test. And on top of that, I have an away horse show Saturday and Sunday. Really Ms. Hauck, really? Besides, it's not like there's a single thing on that paper I don't know. I could have tested out of that class, I swear. But no-o, you have to take biology in order to take Psychology or Forensics. Ridiculous.
Tonight was open house at school, AKA parent's invade your space night. I hate that I have to go with them, to babysit and make sure they don't ask my teachers anything I don't want them too, and make sure they don't get lost. I got to see my English teacher from last year, the fabulous and amazing Mrs. Drisgill. I love her. Love her, love her. Unfortunately I couldn't chat because she was dealing with parents, but we (Sarah and I) did wave and stand around awkwardly in her room for a while. Her class just finished up their mythology unit. Now you see why I love this woman? Also because she will freely call you an ass if she believes you to be one. And she has a giant fish on top of her bookcases. His name is Finly. I hope I can be as cool of a teacher as that.
I have done a bad thing, and pulled out Patroclus and Achilles for NaNo practice. Yes, I do meant that sort of NaNo practice. And yes, Patroclus and Achilles were cousins and yes, they were also lovers. Isn't that fun? I finished the short...scene? story? thing? where Patroclus was dead. Now I'm writing a different little snip. One where they argue and make love. How utterly cliche. But I don't care, because it's simply practice. Practice doesn't have to have plot. Practice is allowed to be gooey and cliche. As Ernest Hemingway said, the first draft of everything is shit.
23 days until doom/madness. 23 to practice. Eh, I've got time.
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