Random news.

In the past few days, I have...

...been cantered over by Delilah, a sixteen-hand paint mare. We were freeschooling and she was wigging out and I happened to be standing in the middle of the ring, trusting her to realise that THERE WAS A HUMAN STANDING IN HER WAY. But no, she didn't see me and ran right over my foot with her leading fore. It's a good thing she was barefoot and I had paddock boots – I'm pretty sure my metatarsals would be just about severed right now. Luckily I got off with a bad bruise. Now my left leg is purplish-greenish-blue...again.

...ridden for the first time since, oh, October? Yup, got to exercise Savannah, an eleven-year-old leopard appaloosa. We didn't do much, on account of my foot and the facts that we'd just freeschooled for a half hour and she hadn't had a saddle on since December. But 'twas fun; she's so sensitive, all you have to do is adjust your seat, and she'll halt or go faster or whatever. Her new owner will be very happy with her.

...filched an old NES from the bowels of my mentor Tina's basement. We cleaned her house so she can move to Old Saybrook, and nobody wanted it. Funny how such old platforms can be so appealing. Now if we could only figure out how to use it...

...been to the Vision Festival for the first time in my life. Which is pathetic, because out of the twelve festivals that have happened annually since it started, my dad's performed at eleven. It's creepy free jazz, and we didn't get to see very interesting performances, but whatev. I can check something else off my list of life accomplishments.

Anyways.

Done!

School's finally done with. Yay.






Oh wait, I meant OMFG I'M FINALLY FUCKING DONE!!!
-cough-

Rant time, bitches.

All right, let's start with my social studies teacher, Mrs. McQueeney. I could basically break the woman in half if I wanted to. She's got this stupid little bowl haircut, and her wardrobe...oh, God. But she talks to me as if I'm a retarded four-year-old. Today, what was supposed to be my last day of school, I had to stay after to talk to her about my research paper (that I handed in April, thankyouverymuch) and how I didn't go through the process right. I didn't footnote everything, so she was going to fail me. So we're sitting opposite, and she's explaining where she thinks I should have footnoted, and she stares into my eyes and talks really sloww, like I don't understand English or something. Ugh, I can't even explain how irritating she is, on every level of her existence.

Next, Mr. Nasry, French teacher. The man thinks he's the shit 'cause he's from Morocco, and actually grew up speaking French and Arabic. Whoopdeedoo. He's constantly comparing France and the US – France wins every time. Now don't get me wrong, I agree that America sucks ass, but excuse me sir, you were the one who moved here from Europe. You decided to come live here, we were born here.

But the most infuriating thing is that he teaches as if he's a philosophy professor at some college. As if language is this mystical idea that we have to think hard to grasp its concept. There are no vocab sheets, no tangible written-down stuff that we can actually study or learn from. And frankly, we don't remember everything he throws out in conversation, every random word that he happens to mention, as much as he's convinced it's so. One word, Naz: REPETITION. Ugh, what a dumbass.

And finally, something totally unrelated: those stupid emo wannabe poser kids. I don't know when it happened, but somehow people started thinking that wearing stud belts and eyeliner and writing poetry makes you emo. As far as I know, the term emo is short for emotional. People who live up to the definition of the term and fill the typical stereotype are depressed out of their skulls. That's what makes them cut, and do drugs, and be emotional. Anyone in their right mind would try to avoid depression as much as possible. Trust me, I know what it feels like to want to kill myself. Not fun. You can go and wear black eyeliner and studs and pierce yourself or whatever, just don't insult the people who actually fit into the category of emo for legitimate reasons.

And as long as we're on the subject of correct labelling, let me say one thing. GREENDAY IS NOT HARDCORE. If you think that shit is heavy, you are naïve. Simple as that.

Right, I'm done now.

Finally.

Yay, I finally remembered to post in this bitch of a blog thing. Let's hope it continues, eh?

So what's new...
School's almost over – I've only got two more exams left! It's a shame how badly French and Algebra went. I'm pretty sure I failed both. I'll be glad when it's over and I can stop thinking about grades for a couple of months.

The other huuge news is my new barn! Mi madre found, through a complicated chain of events, a woman named Tina who has a small, somewhat private barn. There's around 12 horses, five of which are boarders. She's big into natural horsemanship and is just overall very cool.

But a little strained at the moment. She's (actually we're) in the process of moving to Old Saybrook, where she's living, but she's paying rent on two places and working a ton to get the money for hay and grain and stuff. I've been going over to feed every night this week, improvising every night because of the inconsistency. Which is fine by me – anything to be with the horses. But I'll feel better when we're settled in the new barn and Tina can relax.

Let's see...what else?
Oh, I've gone back to Horseland. I never could break the addiction to the horrid game. I'm thinking about breeding Italian Heavy Drafts, cause they're cool, and I got a decent 50k mare for only 5 mill. But the cool thing is that Draco and I are partnering up! We're doing donkeys. Hehe.