I'm a 22 year old failed art student from the UK who enjoys procrastinating, all things equestrian and illustration.

 

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”
On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 
Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 
This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”

On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 

Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. 
I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 

This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

stablevertigo:

What I mean when I say “I can’t do that”- Anxiety Version:

  • I am unable to do that
  • I am too stressed out to do that
  • I cannot face the humiliation of attempting to do that
  • My body will physically not allow me to do that
  • I am on the verge of a panic attack
  • I cannot do that

What people hear:

  • I am unwilling to do that
  • I am just shy
  • I am overreacting
  • I am lazy
  • I need to get more experience in social situation to help my anxiety
  • I need a push
  • I don’t want to do that

Inspired by X

dave-stridesu:

blink182andbeyond:

cashcutie:

the story of a man and his unlikely friend

He’s probably from Florida

Florida Man Befriends Trespassing But Friendly Orange

theriderdiaries:

It shocks me sometimes when I realize just how irrelevant horses are to normal people. Like, woah, you DON’T stare at how pretty they are in movies or in a pasture you’re driving by? You DON’T know what a halter is? You don’t contribute at least 10 minutes a day to thinking about OR doing something involved with them?!

But…how.

horseingaboutt:

fivegaited:

shisha-kebab:

showoffsmom:

How the cavalry learned independence of the seat… I wish we saw more of this type of thing nowadays, it looks like a lot of fun!

Impressive

This looks like the most fun

I kid you not, I once had a PC instructor who got us to do this kind of stuff most times. She often took our stirrups away too. Once even our saddles.* She sat on that fine line between awesome and evil…

That bit where they’re all boxing the table and crossing in mid-air looks absolutely terrifying, though. Alfie doesn’t even like other horses coming towards him in anything more than a walk, he’d have a meltdown if I ever asked him to do that.

I love this though, and and it’s great how cavalry riding is more about what’s practical and gets the job done well, rather than what looks ‘pretty’. Even in the household cavalry today, they prefer to take on people with no riding experience so that they can teach them their own way.

(*the time she took our saddles away, I felt particularly smug because it was the year I took Benny to camp. All the other girls in my group had been riding their 15.2hh+ers all week, and I’d been somewhat handicapped on my little 11.2hh with my feet almost touching the ground. But when it came to doing tonnes of bareback and ‘trick riding’ stuff, I suddenly had the upperhand and it was fab-u-lous. Like, they were all trying and failing to vault on, and all I had to do was swing my leg over his back and I was there. She did all kinds of mounted games stuff with us too and I could literally lean over to pick things off the ground whilst the others had to dismount, and even when I did have to get off, I could vault back on at a gallop.

Ponies FTW.

I miss that little git.)

the-dressage-moo:

I think what you’re all forgetting is we don’t see “Hunter Jumpers” here. It’s the showjumping and eventing scene and basically, as long as you get around that course clear with no time faults, no one cares.