Last week Emma wrote an excellent post about constructive criticism vs. public shaming. I don’t think anyone who reads my blog hasn’t seen it at this point, but if you haven’t, go read it! It summarises the many joys of posting a picture on the internet — especially a riding picture, in a sport where there are approximately 293740 opinions on how to do anything — and how people should and shouldn’t behave. Now, I don’t now about you guys, but I am good at riding about 2% of the time that I put into it, and there’s a lot of evidence of that. In fact, most of the pictures on this website are carefully curated so that Murray and I look as good as possible.
That’s not how we typically look.
In honor of this, I wanted to share some of the many pictures of Murray and I being less than perfect. Things that I might not normally put on the twinternet because, you know, judging judger pants. Media I might be proud of — ’cause we did it, fuckers! — but that isn’t really, uh, a demonstration of how I generally try to ride my horse.
Because we all make mistakes. And we all fail. Every day, if you’re me.
I have seen, over and over again, that bloggers are far more self-reflective than most other people. So I know that we know when we could use a little improving. And I think that most of the time, we don’t need anyone else telling us what to do. Sometimes we encourage it, and welcome it! I often welcome critique and suggestion. But for the most part, I know when I’m not quite on point — but not epic enough for a really good fail — and how to fix it. Let me show you.
Because thaaaaaaat’s the way to encourage your horse to jump scary new obstacles, Nicole.
Yep, my horse is a saint.
Hmm, how about that time I taught my baby horse that bucking during the canter was a fantastic way to get out of work?
(No, he doesn’t need his back checked. Or his hocks. Or his stifles. Or his saddle. I swear, it’s just his brain.)
What, what, what are you doing with your body?!
I dunno if I ever told you guys this, but I used to be hella good at dressage.
I’m still HELLA GOOD AT IT.
I see this ending well.
And to cap it all off: when I first started leasing Quincy he couldn’t canter right on cue. He could pick up the right lead off a fence or if you tricked him (aka ran him at the wall and pulled a hard right at the last minute), but not on a circle or anything. So I thought we’d give it a go on the lunge line. Bareback. In my onesie.
Judge away, haters! Quincy and I are too fucking fabulous for your words.
If you guys want to join me, post a link in the comments! I don’t want to pay to get InLinkz to work. Post your silly, your tired, your teeming, your ridiculous, your hungry. Join me in ridiculing myself. And to make things fun, I’ll enter anyone who posts between now and the end of July in a raffle for a custom saddle cover, because sometimes I sew things for fun (ask Beka, she knows).