Stay stronger than what hurt you and don't ever be afraid of the dust in your rearview.
Learn to protect yourself. Your heart and your body.
Always carry a knife.
Listen to your music too loud and don't turn it down at the stop lights.
Better yet, go somewhere that doesn't even have stop lights.
Don't be afraid of kisses.
Remember that everyone has a past. Just like you do.
That's the beauty of it all, we've all done something we wish we hadn't.
But it is better to regret doing something than to regret doing nothing at all.
I write more to tell myself something than to tell you.
I'm not preaching.
Pain is something that can be overcome, it's not permanent.
Stop being worried that you're going to look back someday and wish you had done something.
Just do it.
And when they ask why, say "Nike said so."
~G
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Saturday, May 17, 2014
A Bridle Horse Sun and A Buckin Horse Moon
A Buckin Horse Moon
Under a buckin horse moon somewhere laid a bronc stomper with dust on starched jeans and long fringed rodeo chaps.
Somewhere lying still beneath the same moon was a cowboy girl with dust on starched jeans and long fringed armitas.
The cowboy bounced from town to town running the rodeo trail.
He'd ride one here and there, get pitched off one only every once in a while.
Rodeo season and branding time came around alike, so while he was out covering rank ones, she was throwing lines in the smoke of a branding fire.
A bridle horse sun burned hot as summer rolled into view.
Broncs bucked hard beneath the bright lights for the cowboy, and cowhorses moved like silk beneath the cowboygirl.
After long, hot days below a bridle horse sun, along came a buckin horse moon and beneath it, the world seemed to mesh well.
So with all the forces working together like, romance and love began to unfold between the bronc stomper and the cowboy girl.
It went that for a time that the buckin horse moon was the only witness to this love.
Though one day, beneath a Santa Barbara bitted sun, the cowboy girl was seen in the stands twirling the rings on her fingers as the cowboy got down in the chutes.
Soon after, the sun became a witness to it all, though the moon had seen it first.
After a while and a good long talk, so it was, the true love that played out in the spotlight of the bridle horse sun and the bucking horse moon.
And sometimes you can still see them running beneath that glow.
Photo Credit: Kricket Keetch
I wrote this quite a while ago kind of in light of some friends that I really look up to! Found it in a stack of papers today, hope you liked it! :) (leave some feedback in the comments if you like! - we LOVE hearing from you all!!)
Have a great day!! <3
~Gussie
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Alive
Being crazy isn't over-rated.
More than once I've been titled "obnoxious", "rebel" and "wild."
That's as much intentional as natural.
I guess it's just the way I'm wired.
To me, alive feels like wind. The kind that grabs all of your hair and pulls it in a good way. The kind that catches in your lungs and takes your breath from you.
Alive feels something like the way your heart jumps seeing blue lights in the rear view and then flying right past you.
It's sitting out the truck window with your hair down when he's driving way too fast.
Alive goes something like deep conversations on long gravel roads.
Drinking too much coffee and getting up too early, watching the sun come up between your favorite pony's ears is feeling alive.
It's long kisses and rough hands.
It's that fine line between thinking you're gonna die and living.
That fine line between thinking you're going to get caught and getting away.
I don't want the kind of crazy that steals your phone and accuses you of cheating.
I want the mystery kind of crazy.
Alive is an edge. A sharp one. One that has blood stains and daffodils and feathery, white clouds.
It's feels like the adrenalin rush when a colt bogs his head beneath you and you stick him.
Alive to me is just feeling. Something. Anything. Emotion.
I would rather cry, giggle hysterically, fury, scream and grin than to lethargically watch my world pass by.
I want to see it. Touch it. Hear it. Feel it. Be it.
I don't want to feel like I'm not moving or living.
Alive; that's the way I like to feel.
And if crazy is what alive feels like, I want to be crazy.
Go be alive.
Even if it means you are a rebel. Hell some of the coolest people I know are rebels. Like my mom. She's a badass and that's one of the things she got titled.
Life's too short to not feel alive.
More than once I've been titled "obnoxious", "rebel" and "wild."
That's as much intentional as natural.
I guess it's just the way I'm wired.
To me, alive feels like wind. The kind that grabs all of your hair and pulls it in a good way. The kind that catches in your lungs and takes your breath from you.
Alive feels something like the way your heart jumps seeing blue lights in the rear view and then flying right past you.
It's sitting out the truck window with your hair down when he's driving way too fast.
Alive goes something like deep conversations on long gravel roads.
Drinking too much coffee and getting up too early, watching the sun come up between your favorite pony's ears is feeling alive.
It's long kisses and rough hands.
It's that fine line between thinking you're gonna die and living.
That fine line between thinking you're going to get caught and getting away.
I don't want the kind of crazy that steals your phone and accuses you of cheating.
I want the mystery kind of crazy.
Alive is an edge. A sharp one. One that has blood stains and daffodils and feathery, white clouds.
It's feels like the adrenalin rush when a colt bogs his head beneath you and you stick him.
Alive to me is just feeling. Something. Anything. Emotion.
I would rather cry, giggle hysterically, fury, scream and grin than to lethargically watch my world pass by.
I want to see it. Touch it. Hear it. Feel it. Be it.
I don't want to feel like I'm not moving or living.
Alive; that's the way I like to feel.
And if crazy is what alive feels like, I want to be crazy.
Go be alive.
Even if it means you are a rebel. Hell some of the coolest people I know are rebels. Like my mom. She's a badass and that's one of the things she got titled.
Life's too short to not feel alive.
Luvs, Gussie
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Without The Engraved Picture Frame
Writers feel deeply.
That is why they can take your darkest fear and tear it's guts out to let it lay in a rawness that you've been needing to see it in.
It's myth that those who feel deeply aren't tough. That myth couldn't be more opposite from the truth.
It is easy to hide feelings you don't have. But to feel and burn and bleed over something that you can never express is harder than hell.
It feels like raindrops, ones made of fire, are spitting down your neck and in your face. And they are screaming their name and crying out the pains of their own.
Writers can read your eyes and spill their tears as drops of ink.
They see the world without blinders. Without the engraved picture frame. The desert is a desert. They see all the ugly, disgraceful and painful pieces.
Writers are real. They are not people who wake up shining their own ray of sunshine. They step on boots and spur rowels in the night, and cuss. They look in the mirror at tangled hair and tired eyes. They cry and scream and curse a name into the thundering night.
When you read something that moves you, it moves you because it's real. Because real is life and life is real.
If I said, tomorrow you will wake up with the sun streaming in and birds singing on your windowsill. I'd be lying. Or you'd think I was Disney.
I guess that's just something on my mind. Something I've been thinking.
That doesn't mean if you don't write that you don't feel deeply. I think in some way everyone is scarred. And in some way, everyone expresses the feelings they can't say.
Sometimes it just seems that's easier to see in writers.
Have a good night everyone!
-Gussie
That is why they can take your darkest fear and tear it's guts out to let it lay in a rawness that you've been needing to see it in.
It's myth that those who feel deeply aren't tough. That myth couldn't be more opposite from the truth.
It is easy to hide feelings you don't have. But to feel and burn and bleed over something that you can never express is harder than hell.
It feels like raindrops, ones made of fire, are spitting down your neck and in your face. And they are screaming their name and crying out the pains of their own.
Writers can read your eyes and spill their tears as drops of ink.
They see the world without blinders. Without the engraved picture frame. The desert is a desert. They see all the ugly, disgraceful and painful pieces.
Writers are real. They are not people who wake up shining their own ray of sunshine. They step on boots and spur rowels in the night, and cuss. They look in the mirror at tangled hair and tired eyes. They cry and scream and curse a name into the thundering night.
When you read something that moves you, it moves you because it's real. Because real is life and life is real.
If I said, tomorrow you will wake up with the sun streaming in and birds singing on your windowsill. I'd be lying. Or you'd think I was Disney.
I guess that's just something on my mind. Something I've been thinking.
That doesn't mean if you don't write that you don't feel deeply. I think in some way everyone is scarred. And in some way, everyone expresses the feelings they can't say.
Sometimes it just seems that's easier to see in writers.
Have a good night everyone!
-Gussie
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Top 15 Summer Songs
Top 15 songs to get you pumped for and through summer!
- A Little Bit Country--Adrian Buckaroogirl
This song is just wonderful :) - Pour Some Sugar On Me--Def Leopard
Old obnoxious rock is just good. - Amazing Grace--O'Conner Mark
This version is instrumental and it's really beautiful! I like to listen to it before a rodeo or times when I'm nervous or stressed! - Oh Tonight--Josh Abbott Band
- The Night Is Young--Kyle Park
- How She Rolls--Chase Rice
- Slow Hand--Conway Twitty
- Went For A Ride--Radney Foster
- Two Dozen Roses--Shenandoah
- Tonight We Ride--Tom Russell
- Pony--Ashley Monroe
- Wear My Ring--Bart Crow
- Cowboy Cadillac--Brenn Hill
- Trouble--Wade Bowen
- Someday Soon--Suzy Bogguss
A lot of these songs are oldies, but definitely good ones!! :)
Luvs, Gussie!
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