When people ask me if I have horses (something that happens a lot when you work at a fancy dressage barn) it always triggers my inner angsty 12 year old. No. I don’t have horses. I grew up in a military family that switched states or continents every 3-4 years and when I begged for riding lessons my dad told me “riding is the sport of kings. We aren’t kings.” So I bow my head and say, “I am but a humble peasant, ma’am. I have only my dogs, rodents, and a turtle.” I work at a barn because I need money for food, not because it supports my hobbies. But it’s not really like that, is it? Sometimes I tell myself I “gave up” horses for art. That’s not really true since you can’t give up what you never had, but I did give up those dreams so that I could stop obsessing over something so completely out of my reach while I focused on things I actually could achieve. Boo hoo. I gave up horses to become an artist.
Yeah, when I heard myself think that I had to lean on my muck rake and just laugh. (Which is something you can get away with when you’re mucking a stall with only horses for company.) Honestly, that’s like giving up Ice Cream for Reese’s. Not that being an artist is all chocolate-peanutbuttery goodness (especially when you’re as non-popular as I am), but it’s definitely not a career you can break into without heaps of support and luck.
Keep your horses. I’ll be blessed as hell if I manage to survive another year as an artist with two dogs, two guinea pigs, and a turtle.
