An explanation.

It seems that I am very good at expressing myself without actually saying what I'm talking about. If I've confused you, I'm sorry. Frankly, at times I confuse myself and that is precisely why these jumbled thoughts end up on paper.

I'm going to try to clear some things up.
I almost always write about a horse and a person. Sometimes it's about some horse I only threw a leg over once and other times it's about my little pally horse that I could never stand to part with.

As for the people, sometimes it's my sissy, my best friend or someone who hurt me. Other times it's someone I'm trying to forgive or cowboys, usually the ones that have pried their way into my heart. And sometimes it's not any of these, just someone from a dream.

Every now and then my ramblings are about ten stories compiled into one or sometimes just a vivid memory.
I hope I keep it balanced; with a taste of sweet, a taste of sour, some good and some bad.
Whatever it is that ends up crying out from this page, I hope it means something to you and/or that you can relate. I hope you grin when you read it. I hope you laugh and show your friends. Or maybe, I hope it pricks at your heart and makes you remember something painfully wonderful.

I by no means have any profound advice or ramblings, hell I'm only 18 and I've not seen near what I'm going to. I haven't rode hundreds of horses yet or met so many people. I'm kind of just plundering my way through things.

I don't know how much good this blurb did, but it was worth my muscle cramped hand I believe.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34

XoXo Gussie

Just what I needed.

My metaphorical walls have blood stains and dirt built up for nearly 2 years now. All ugly and unconditioned, in pretty bad shape. The worst part is the mindset I have taken on. I'm working on the change; the reform. And dammit I was aching for something. I knew I was but I couldn't pinpoint what on God's green earth it was that I was craving.
I found it though.
I found it in an old house and an old barn.
It was in the corrals that stood declaring their grit and strife to stay up right.
New horses breathed it into my nostrils and sent a fresh kind of shivers down my back.
My heart is freeing up finally and I can feel all of my gashes pulling together and healing.
I didn't expect what I needed to be hiding here.
I didn't know that I needed sissy to whisper into my room in the morning or that I needed to talk to my brother-in-law about calves.
I had no idea that's what I wanted.
My body was telling me something and I surely wasn't listening close enough.
Maybe I needed colder, drier air to hit my lungs.
Maybe I needed more dust, mornings in the cake truck or late nights.
I'm not sure what it was that I needed but I got it.
What snapped in my mind is a wonder but I guess it doesn't matter.
This is the best I've felt in far too long but God I am thankful. 

- Gussie

Cross legged and laughing.

I traced my fingers around the edge of my saddle horn and the flowers on the fork. I clenched my swollen hand into a fist and watched my blood near the surface where fresh rope burns loomed. My raspy voice answered him when he asked if I was alright. I looked up, blinked the dirt out of my eyes and rode in to heel another calf. Horse sweat dampened my fingers and blood coated the backside of my hands. I took heavy breathes and wished I had more coffee. I tugged and pulled trying to brush through my snarled and once braided hair. My boots were torn and dusty, ready with memories. Through gritted teeth I threw heel traps and then grinned at all the cowboys that never fail to give me hell. We all sat cross legged at the end of the day in the dirt and laughed till we were red, pointing fingers with jokes on the tips of our tongues. Our horses stood cock-hipped, their energy burned out even more so than our own. We were all so giddy and we felt like the world was right as the sun set in the reflection of our eyes.
Still, when tears were at the corners of my eyes, sore muscles aching beneath my skin and my legs not giving my horses the right message, I was always where I wanted to be. I was scared and I thought I was failing, but I was okay. Good morning and goodnight beneath a full moon, rolling out of bed at 3 a.m. and catching horses with shivering fingers in coats too big for you. I love the little, pretty, dusty memories and the feel of good horses between my knees.

-Gussie

Thought sequence.

I'm standing in the saddle shop leaning against the door frame drinking milk, which is rare for me, and thinking. My thoughts keep shifting back and forth between life decisions and the God-sent horses I can see through the glass. The skin on my fingers is cold and I'm trembling but my mind is red hot. What if I move far away and for hell's sake I can't focus. I remember the smell of his leather jacket and feeling so safe. I'm afraid I'll never feel that way again. I wonder how hard the wind is blowing at sissy's place. My room up in Wyo sounds pretty good right now. And hot coffee - the kind that scalds on the way down. Maybe one day I'll have a fancy indoor arena with lights and heaters so I can ride clear into the night. George Strait sings some great songs. I don't ever want to be weak. I wish I could be straightforward with people and just be myself. My bible pages are being ground by the arena dirt that's shook off my clothing and there's smeared blood from old cuts. Praise God.

Hebrews 13:5 Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.
Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.

Goodnight dolls. Sweet dreams.
-Gussie

Real.

I get tired of playing the part. We all want to be so strong. We all want to be the perfect role model. I am as guilty as anybody because I have this overpowering fear of being weak or of failing. I know better than to be fake, hell we all know better but we still do it. I've done it so much. My mind gets running head strong and I start believing myself. I get thinking that I need to be the most accomplished of my age; the most impressive.
Here's the thing though, perfection is overrated. 
I may be up in the night or whispering words that mean nothing in your ears. But for me, I've finally found that real is awesome.
My role models became my role models when I saw them with a zit on their face and they admitted that tears had known their cheeks all too well. Or when they told me that they used to be so dumb and they've learned so much. I have so much more hope for myself when I hear them say they used to throw trash shots in the branding pen and how unbroke their horses were compared to now.
You're good enough to be happy with what you are darlings.

Goodnight,
Gussie

Sisters

I got really sick one night and I remember laying in the fetal position on my bed trying to avoid doing the ugly cry. My sissy came in, curled up behind me and whispered "Is my Gussie gonna be ok?" as she poked her bottom lip out.
Sisters are different than friends.
You can't get pissed at your friends about how they sit on the bathroom counter.
You can't con friends into driving you around while you rant and rave.
Required forgiveness allows you to scream across arenas at each other.
Friends are far less likely to tell you the bloody truth and say "He's just not that into you."
Anybody can tell you you're going be ok and nothing is wrong with you but sometimes it just means more.
Kricket and me got up at 3 a.m. and we stumbled to the coffee maker and she smiled at me. This was 3 years ago now. We shivered and whispered and giggled through chattering teeth. She had hell catching her horse and they snorted at the trailer door. We sang "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow with the windows cracked and the cold breezing in. I drifted off with my eyes glazing over the Top Stop neon sign that said 4:08. Her eyes are so blue in the morning. We watched the sun smile over the mountain tops between palomino ears. She left her lip balm on the dash and when she opened it that night it had melted and spilled ruining her favorite jeans. We cussed and joked and drank 44 ounces of Mountain Dew way too damn fast. Then we laughed, mocked each other and rubbed the dust off our faces.
Sisters.

-Gussie

A Valentine's Special

I tend to lean towards sarcasm. 

HOWEVER! 

Sissy has always been better at being serious about these sort of things so I think I'll leave it to her to give you a Valentine's special.

Here's what she's got to say:

Follow this link:

Valentine's Day and LOVE

Happy Valentine's Day dolls! 

Hugs and kisses, 

Gussie