A new day

Thank you all who left me comments. My readership has grown from 4 to 8 and that's all the proof I need that I MUST. KEEP. GOING. Actually, about 30 seconds after posting the previous (and somewhat pathetic) entry I had about 9 things I wanted to talk about and then felt like an asshole because I'd just said I didn't know if I wanted to keep going and then I smacked myself in my dumb head thinking I could pull the whiny post or post something new right away and pretend that the whiny post didn't exist but then thought no, that would also be dumb because I figured some people had already read it and I don't like pulling the words I've committed to and I'd recently pulled another post that although I thought was funny even if it was a wee bit over-the-top love-fest for Pamprin and when you're smack dab in the middle of the Pamprin Days if someone doesn't give you accolades in one half of one second you cry a little then get hot about the face and maybe blush bright red and pull the post down convinced that you are unfunny in all manners of funny and man, was that dumb too.

However, another round of Pamprin Days were partially to blame for my plunge into writing despair and rendering of garments over my measly comments, not that I don't appreciate the one I do have, don't have a cow, and I reserve the right to flip-flop back and repost it. Because it was kinda funny and I can't help it if I'm suddenly overcome with feelings because I'm convinced I have a Niagara Falls supply of them and it's not my fault.

Are you still with me?

My point is, I guess I should employ the swimming-after-a-big-meal rule and NOT POST whatever despair is scrolling across my brain at the very moment it's happening.

Have crazy, whiny thought, wait 1 hour before posting.

I'm going to have that carved onto a chunk of wood, apply 10 layers of shallac and hang it above my monitor. Not-to-mention I'm pretty sure I heard a collective eyeroll of the internet at yet another person boo-hooing over something stupid and trivial. I get that. Still doesn't excuse you from lovingly stroking my insane ego, though. ~points finger at you who did a drive-by reading~
So, therefore and another thing, I've changed my mind. It's something I do often. Well, it's more like I've swirled around again in a complete circle like a turd in the bowl wanting to write and having some confidence about it and realizing that I should be writing for me and it's just icing on my cake if anyone reads and likes it and why do I need so much god damn outside fucking feedback anyway what are you Anna Nichole? "Lack mah wratting?"

And I need to suck it up and accept the fact that some bloggers are hugly popular and got that way from a host of approaches and reasons and maybe just dumb luck and who cares if I'm not one of them? Well, I do, but not all the time. And if I can make one person smile or laugh or think than it's all worth it so just stop expecting anything you lovely moron.

~swirl~ ~swirl~

I'm insane. But I'm cute insane so it's OK. So, for the time-being, I will not say goodbye. There's really no reason for this stupidity except my own insecurities which are my own damage. Luckily they are a smaller percentage that my ass-kickingness so insecurities, fuck off. I have some stories to tell. And that's that. I will continue to wrestle with my demons and you'll get to watch it all.

Crisis averted. Chocolate consumed. There will be no quitting. Amen.

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I had an epiphany last weekend. We'll see how long that lasts, ~swirl swirl~, but for now I'm still riding high. Ha, riding.

I almost died, you see, and I'm feeling the appreciation of still being here in one piece and for the luck I had on Saturday. I've mentioned before that I ride horses. Hunter jumpers to be exact. I've been doing this for years after learning how to ride as an adult. (Even though I grew up in horse country I was raised to fear them [thanks dad!] and carried that fear until I was in college where they had a stables and riding classes and I was weakened by an almost constant state of hangover, and I fell in love with it.)

I ride every Saturday in a lesson which is a mixture of therapy, commaraderie, and exercise. It's extremely important to me on many levels. I literally do not feel the same for the whole week if I don't get to ride on Saturday. I've had to take week after week off as my physical therapist tries to fix old injuries that have decided to flare up and render me cranky, in chronic pain, and set me up for a life of immobility if I don't do something about it now. Which, no fucking way will I let that happen if I can help it. Because of this I've skipped a lot of Saturdays this summer and I don't like it. Makes for one extra Princess Crankypants.

I'm taking September off for a few reasons so last weekend would be my last lesson for awhile and there was no way I was skipping it. Everything was going great. The weather was warm but not unbearable, my horse was behaving and we were almost done. One last excercise and we were finished. I had the bright idea to canter a serpintine pattern across the ring and just before we were done. KABOOM. My horse tripped and I ATE SHIT.

It was hhe scariest tumble I've ever had. My horse tripped and did a full face-plant into the dirt, both of his knees hitting the ground which then caused me to smash my face and chest into his neck and head. I literally saw my life flash before my eyes and my first thought was, oh fuck, we're both going to do a front sommersault with him landing on top of me and this could be the end of either one of us or both.

But that good boy managed to yank his front end up before he went all the way down. Unfortunately my centrifugal force of falling forward paired with his swinging head flung me all the way over and I landed on my back with a thud. I'd like to think it was very Cirque du Soleil. With horse poop.

Thankfully, a million times thankfully, I was pretty close to the ground and the landing wasn't too bad. I thought at first I'd broken my jaw and my neck muscles and shoulder blades were screaming and my chest was on fire. But I caught my breath and realized I think I was, for the most part, OK. My eyes wouldn't focus too well but I figured that was from adrenaline.

We checked out my horse and despite a small chunk taken out of one knee and nostriles full of sand, he was ok too. I got back on and we walked around a bit then called it a day. We were very, very, very, very, very lucky. I've felt a little wacky all week so I might have a slight concussion, I have some nasty bruises and my right boob is off limits, but still feel Lucky. As. Hell.

Nothing like a near-death experience to make you remember that life is precious and you'd better make the god damn best of it. So I went and bought me a fancy new Nikon D50 digital 35mm SLR camera with a Quantaray lens.

Fuckit, life is too short and I wanted it. Deserved it. And got it.

And it made me smile.