Oh hello, Jules Verne. Fancy meeting you here.
Recently, I went out to dinner with someone and she gave me some news that left my jaw dropping on the floor. I still have to periodically pick it back up. It just boggles my mind.
And it was only the latest in several months’ worth of drama events (not all, I assure you, from the same source).
At one point, I had to write my non-horsey friends with some of the details, to find out if my perspective was slipping and I was becoming part of the problem and not part of the solution. They have not written back yet. About anything. Erm. Granted, every so often we do these six week silences, but—drama alert!—I found the timing of this silence a suspicious confirmation that they are afraid to touch my drama with a ten foot pole, in case it’s contagious.
The fact that I found the timing suspicious made me decide I have, indeed, slipped. Not off the deep end. Off the continental shelf, perhaps. Chatting with Jacques Cousteau. 20,000 leagues deep, hanging with Jules Verne. Journeying to the center of the bloody earth.
Since then, not really through anything I did, the drama has dissipated. Thank god.
Although I kind of get where the drama comes from—horses are expensive, and we all get a lot of time and money invested into doing things a particular way. We don’t want to know that others disagree with our way, because that would imply that we wasted all that time and money. Therefor we are ferociously protective of Our Way. Interestingly, people seem to be able to tolerate people who do things Not Like Us At All a whole lot better than we tolerate People Who Do Things Almost Like Us But Pick Out the Left Hind Foot Before the Left Front Foot (or whatever minor, inconsequential thing is feeding today’s drama).
And yet, I kind of don’t get it. I went to a women’s college and lived in dorms for four years with hundreds of hormonal women surrounding me, and we never had drama like horse people have drama. I am pretty sure that if someone could figure out how to harness the elemental stable drama element, we could solve the world’s energy problem six times over. Controlling surges would probably be an issue for a while, but I think my experiment with my friends shows that running especially hot currents through an outside current will effectively kill things. Friendships, perhaps, but also some of the drama.
Ah. I have just found my solution. I will start patenting that idea, and then I will be too busy for drama. Horse drama isn’t going anywhere—I know better than to ask for ideas to minimize it, because I know how to minimize it. And even I can’t avoid it—so if I’m going to have to deal with it, I might as well profit from it.
I wonder if I need to know anything about electricity when I submit the patent? Is a drawing with an arrows labeled “drama in” and “electricity out” pointing to opposite ends of a pipe sufficient, do you think? Must go research…
Winter says 1 July 2010
I have found a drama free barn. No one here competes, so I imagine that helps. We’re just all trail riders. We’re here at this modest facility, folks on a budget. Our barn owner cares most about the horses well being and has found the balance between working with boarders and working with horses.
My previous barn had a bit of drama, most of which I steered clear of. But it’s nice to not have to walk on eggshells.