the luckywhen i think about my life, the measured flow of minutes and sunrises and intangible orbits around a distant star, it all becomes so very fragile. veronica often speaks of the probability of life, of the unlikely chance for consciousness to evolve on one of the billions and trillions of spinning rocks, of how special we then are--but i cant help noticing, we are all still so very small. does improbability really create... "specialness"? or are we just trying to assign purpose to chaos?
i do think about improbability a lot, mainly because for me, in my reality, nothing seems likely. i try so hard at many things, and fail--yet somehow, i still acquire things i probably dont deserve. friends i dont call near often enough, loving parents i avoid, and now, this: this job, i didnt earn, didnt interview for, didnt even ask for. *plop*, into my lap.
its said to be lucky to win the lottery--but luck implies attempting to win, doesnt it? am i lucky, to get such things, or just misguidedly gifted? dont worry, im not ungrateful... just confused. but i guess that can wait for another post.
every day, their greeting is the same. as i let the handlebars of ol' rusty fall against the stables mottled wall, each of their curious faces awaken within their stalls, peeking over their doors to wait for rescue from their boredom.
rocky: mopes until he examines both my pockets thoroughly for carrots. clearly, he is being starved.
fury: won't stop trumpeting until shes given her freedom. ive never met a creature so unhappy with being cared for... except, possibly, my sister. they are kindred spirits in their need for independence.
but dusty... she always waits. patient, forgiving. she knows ill come, eventually, always with a kiss and a secret apple tucked away in my boot, where rocky never thinks to look. i drag the rickety door open for her, and she always leaves reluctantly. no ones ever been so sad to leave my company, before.
its... overwhelming.
but, even dusty can't wait forever to be let loose, so at some point the nuzzles have to end and the chores have to begin.
i suppose you could call the work tedious. its certainly messy; i havent come home without mud in my hair for at least a week, and im unsure if the smell will ever quite wear off... but really? i dont particularly mind.
perhaps, as happens with many things in my life, i over-romanticize the idea of my job into something that isn't so "under-glamorous"--but is it such a crime, to love feeling accomplished for doing something so 'little'?
truly, the extra labor required for it has given me perspective on what it really means to work. ill never take lazy days for granted, again--nor the merit of actually putting effort into gym class. my hands are raw, my back aches every day, every muscle crying in tandem that i, margo may kane, am and have always been an incredibly lazy arse.
hello, margo: welcome to the real world.
a world where even the most amazing jobs do not come without disappointments.
not two days after i first learned how to properly muck a stall, the last empty residence in the stable was taken by a rather beautiful mare, called "mumba". mumba, forever known as: the thorn in my side. although she comes with a few quirks of her own, it just so happens that this beauty is owned by the girl who finds a way to usurp all my hopes and dreams.
how very fitting, that not only does the amazing, incredible daisy de wynter now own a horse of her very own--i get to be the one scooping up her horses crap.
i swear i heard her laughing the moment i was out of her sight.
mum says you can pick your battles, but im not sure this is true. (unless you can count the possibility of steering away from battle entirely by premature corpsification.) i have tried picking my battles with daisy. i avoid her at all costs--and she always finds me, and always kills my self-esteem.
but, at the very least, i dont see her here too often, and when i do, she keeps her distance. seems even the Soul Crusher needs some time to herself.
its funny, though: as one troublemaker enters the scene, another finds a way into my heart.
"the sound and the fury"; her full name intimidates me--for good reason--but for whatever why, the horse that wrought fear into so many previous stablehands doesn't seem all too furious with me.
i dont know why. few others can get this close to her back without her bucking off into the sunset--heck, even veronica, who oh-so-reluctantly agreed to take all these pictures for me, couldnt approach without causing a temper tantrum.
part of me wants to believe im special, like some sort of 'horse whisperer', calming the beast so someday, i can ride her, and be all famous for 'taming the untameable'! but, i know the truth: fury lets me close because she knows im too scared to try anything stupid.
at least... for now.
yes--i should count myself lucky. even mumba, as finicky as she can be, doesnt give me too much trouble. my job is not easy, but is not hard--and its rewarding. as strange as it is to have this new opportunity thrust upon me, its still some sort of winning from the lottery of life. luck won out, this time.
kenzie and ronnie say its thankless. no real pay, and the horses cant really say their gratitude. but i see it, in their faces, and in the way they nudge my hands as i leave after the sun has set. is it narcissistic, to think their lives are a little better because of me?
maybe, but truth is: my life is better because of them.
im still nervous about learning to ride, but its getting better. ive sat in this saddle every day, trying to get used to it... call me silly, but i bet itll help.
i do wish i could learn to ride on dusty--i trust her more than any other--but i guess shes not trained to handle beginners. im not sure why that matters, but miss christina says she has someone special lined up for me, anyways.
"special"--arent they all?
even mumba, as temperamental and ornery as she can be, is still special.
in a way, it gives me some small--small, very very small--appreciation that even daisy, as horrible as she can be, is still human. we all have our flaws. some worse than others, but in the end, still all of us are a little the same.
im lucky, that i can see that, even if she cant.
who knows, though: maybe someday shell allow herself to see it, too.
... but, its probably about as likely as mumba allowing herself to be put up for the night.
(and i thought fury didnt like to be caught.)
they are fickle, these thoughts of gratitude. i find so many ways to nitpick my life, to wish for things that are different, escaping the resolution that i should be grateful for what i have. yeah, maybe i do say it often: i love my family, and i love my friends. but when i say it normally, it feels a cheap avoidance of my true discontent with life. here, though, i do truly feel a small bit of relief.
i am not always lucky. in fact--i am rarely lucky.
but when i am, i promise: i will try not to forget.
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some extra horse ranch photos:
Sorry that took me so long to post, here--I only just realized why I had to keep running my image urls through tinyurl to be able to use them here, haha. Fixed the issue, and now it's not nearly as tedious to copy the urls over.