George Zimmerman

I wanted to take a moment to change things around a bit. Recently I have gotten very interested in the HLN court cases. one of these cases included the George Zimmerman case. If you do not know, George Zimmerman was the security watch man who stalked a seventeen year old African American boy who was walking  around the neighborhood. This boy was named Trayvon Martin. At the time he was walking home from a 7-11 with a bag of skittles. George Zimmerman followed this poor boy and eventually got out of his car, attacked him and killed him. If Zimmerman had never gotten out of his car, Trayvon would still be alive. It is quite obvious that Zimmerman only stalked Trayvon because he was African American. unfortunately, Zimmerman was found not guilty due to self defense. personally I think this is absurd. it is quite obvious that Zimmerman is guilty. due to the evidence that I have examined on this case, I feel that George Zimmerman was wrongly acquitted, justice was not served, and George Zimmerman should be in jail.

This I believe

Just something to think about. What do you believe in? This is what I believe.

Danger is around every corner. What would the point life be if we didn’t put ourselves out there? What if we didn’t take risks in order to make ourselves happy?  I take giant leaps of faith every day when I climb on the backs of my beloved horses. Every time I climb on board of this magnificent animal, I do so knowing that they too have minds of their own and that they can choose to do whatever they wish despite the fact that I am on their back, and yet they don’t.  So, I believe in an unspoken connection between the horse and its rider. The horse trusts me and I trust the horse. When we are together we become one body. It’s almost as if we make a pact. When I put my foot in that stirrup, I promise the horse that I won’t put them in danger. In return, they promise me that they will protect me even if I make a mistake.

 It is for this reason that I also believe that every rider needs to have a connection and a relationship with their horse. My horses are my other half. It goes beyond a feeling of companionship. I stare into my horse’s eyes and I can see the love that we have for each other. I believe in a language that is unique to each couple. Only the horse and rider will ever be able to understand this unique language. It is through this language that I communicate with my horse and our bond grows every time we encounter each other’s gaze.

This unspoken connection is the most important thing in my life. It is what keeps me sane when everything else in my life going wrong. All it takes is one look into those big brown eyes and I instantly feel better. I believe that a horse can make any sad moment special. In each of these curing moments, our connection grows even stronger despite all odds.

What does this all mean? In the end I don’t understand why I share such a strong love for these stunning animals. Ever since I was a young girl, I have had a natural inclination towards these amazing creatures. It is a natural fire that will always burn inside of me. I will always do anything for my horses because a certain, unique love emerges between two souls when they trust each other with their lives every day. I know that my horses will always protect me and I know that my horses understand that I will do anything for them. Even when I am not riding, my horses and I share an unspoken connection that is unexplainable to the outside world. I think that such a connection is special and is the most important thing in the world. I think people should search the world for that one thing that means the world to them, but they can’t explain to anyone else. It is funny because when I try to explain to people who do not understand my sport, how much I love horses and how they make my life whole, they always look at me with a perplexed gaze. In the end I don’t feel the need to explain to these people why I love these animals because the only thing that matters is how I feel about my love.

In the book of Corinthians, the bible says, “Love is patient, love is kind”.  Throughout the world, the entire human race is on the hunt for love like a bumblebee looking for a flower to land on. We are constantly on the search for something that will fuel their entire life. I am lucky enough to have found that something. I feel like the connection I have with my horses embodies this quote from the bible. There is patience when we work through struggles together. Patience when we practice together in order to achieve that harmony between horse and rider. Our love is kind because I could never say anything negative about a horse. Equitation is the phrase that defines a person riding a horse. The term comes from the Spanish word equitación, which means harmony between horse and rider. I am constantly striving for this harmony. I feel like this harmony is representative of the constant strive for harmony between people. Sometimes we fall off. Sometimes we have the perfect round. The struggles that occur through the ups and downs of life are the reason why we build relationships. So, I do not only believe in horses and their connection with the rider, but I believe in love.

The Cold Nights of Winer

Here is a little short story I wrote. I hope you enjoy.

The Cold Nights of Winter

               I gaze around the courtroom in a state of confusion. I am partly angry at myself for putting myself in this position. On the other hand I blame Jacob, but I have to be responsible for my own choices.  Everything around me is intimidating. The judge is starting at me with piercing eyes full of contempt. Her ugly, wrinkled hand stretches out from underneath her dark flowing robe, reading to lay down the gauntlet with my conviction. The jury probably hates me because they probably have better things to do than sit here and listen to me plead insanity. The Jury is made up of men and women alike, dressed in normal everyday clothes, eagerly waiting that moment that they can be set free while I am placed in custody. Everything else is empty; empty walls, empty chairs, and empty tables. Today is my final day in court. Today is the day I will be told my fate. The funny thing is the night it all happened is a total blur. Everything I know about the actual event was explained to me by my boyfriend Jacob. Jacob is intoxicating with is long dark hair and piercing blue eyes that are softly hidden underneath is silky hair. I have been dating Jacob for almost two years and up until now, it has been complete bliss. He always treated me right and he took care of me when I left home at 17. I have been living with him in our small apartment above 5^th street in Brooklyn since then. I left my wealthy family for many reasons. To start with they wanted me to become someone that I am not. I wasn’t the daughter they wanted me to be. They wanted me to go to NYU to study economics. From there the plan was to get a job working on Wall Street. Little did they know, due to the fact that my opinions didn’t matter to them that I planned on going to art school? On the night of my seventeenth birthday, I told them about my plans. My father stared at me with a grim face before stomping up the stairs making giant thuds with each step. My mother on the other hand went ballistic. After the yelling and screaming ceased, I called Jacob, packed a bag, and I haven’t spoken to my parents since.

I am 25 now and I never believed I would be in this position, alone, sitting in a court room awaiting the fate that would change my life forever. I remember the night of the incident clear as day; it seemed so full of promise. I was having a lot of anxiety paying off my student loans from art school and it seemed as if my entire world was crashing down on me. Jacob thought he could help. So that night I met him after work at a little bar on the corner of the bad part of town. The air, the walls, the streets, all appeared dark and sketchy. There was trash blanketing the ground and the air permeated of sewer. I tentatively walked into the bar. I had never been to this side of town, nor did I think that Jacob would ever be in this place. Despite all odds, I walked into the bar and took a seat next to an ugly biker that looked like a rock star that hadn’t had a shower in months. He had piercings and tattoos all over his body and he reeked of booze.  I sat uncomfortably next to him until Jacob emerged in the doorway. He strode over to me with his biceps pulsing with every step. To this day, he still makes my heart race. He grabs my waist with strong impulsion and kisses me hard. My lips felt like they were on fire. I remember thinking that he was the only person in the world that could understand me and yet he got me into the biggest pickle that I will never fully be able to get myself out of. Sitting next to him, drowning my sorrows at the bar, he reveals to me a couple of tiny red and black pills. They were large, appeared to be too large for human consumption. But I was desperate. Jacob claimed the pills were supposed to help me relax, but they did no such thing. I take the pills and swallow them with a huge gulp from my absolute martini. I can still remember the sour taste of the pills mixed with the horrid olive flavor from the martini searing my throat as they slid down into my stomach. I remember seeing a light emerge out of thin air. From that point on, I remember nothing. Apparently I had gotten in my car to drive home, ran a red light, and killed a homeless person crossing the street. Apparently the scene was horrific. Thanks to Jacob, I remember nothing.

So here I sit in silence. Suddenly I hear, “all rise for the judge”. I stand. She peers down at me and I look up at her with begging eyes. After what seems like a decade, the judge speaks. “Due to the fact that the defendant was unaware of the substance she was taking, and it resulted in temporary insanity, I hereby sentence the defendant to ten years in a state rehab institution.” I am at a loss for emotions. I feel empty. I peer over at the prosecution. They wanted me to get life in prison. My own attorneys are celebrating. I however realize that I can’t breathe. I am gasping for air. I must sound awful like a cat’s evil hiss. The realization those two seconds of taking a pill is going to cost me ten years of my life in a lock down rehab facility.

 The guards march towards me and snap the handcuffs on my wrists with such force that I am sure that it will leave a mark tomorrow morning. They push me outside the court doors and into a white van. Inside the van, they lock me in a cage like a rabid animal. I sit in silence unsure of what to think. I start drifting off into my own world of thoughts.  The van comes to a halt. German shepherds surround the van. I am jerked out of the cage and through the front doors where I see a woman standing before me. She is tall, too tall. She reminds of school librarian that you feared when you were a child. She wore a long white coat and had nails about two inches long coated in blood red nail polish. The men uncuffed me as the German shepherds sniffed around my general vicinity for drugs. When I was cleared as clean, the woman grips my shoulders and walks me towards a white room with two metal chairs inside. It was here that I first met Meredith. I sit down in the cool metal chair and watch as the door softly opens. A tiny blonde girl with soft curls bounces into the room. I am confused. What on earth would the twenty year old version of Shirley temple is doing in a drug facility? She reaches out her hand to shake mine. “Meredith” she proclaims softly “and you?” I clear my throat with a loud gurgle. “Winter”. “Wow. Such a mystic name. Does it stand for something?” “My parents always told me I was called winter because I emulate the worst season of the year.” Meredith doesn’t flinch. She replies with a soft giggle before continuing. “I am your roommate. I have been here for 4 years. I was sent here when I was 16 for possession and dealing of marijuana. Today I am completely sober and granted with the freedom to spend the rest of my 5 year sentence mentoring the newbies like you.” Again, I don’t know what to say so I awkwardly reply, “ok, what next?” we stand and go to our room.  More white.  I am getting sick of all this white. Luckily for me, it is almost the night.

When we get to our room Meredith and I talk for a while. She tells me her story. She was always a good girl until the stock market crash which left her family dry. She met a guy her freshman year of high school that gave her her first joint and after a couple months she was dealing the stuff for money. Lots of it. In February of that same year she tried to deal to an undercover cop and was arrested and stuffed in here. After years of counseling she became sober and certified to help others for her final year in the institution. I go on to tell her my story. At the end she seems unappeased and adds, “Men are pigs eh?” that was shocking to me. We talk for hours after lights out about Jacob and my parents. I know I have only known her for a few short hours, but she has helped me make sense of it all. After talking to her all I want to do is see Jacob and tell him that I don’t blame him anymore.

I wait until 3 am to carry out my plan. Luckily, prior to the court deliberation today, Jacob came to visit me in my holding cell. It was there that we planned my escape tonight. There is a window in my room, locked of course. I peer around the room and I notice Meredith’s certified member badge. As she walked me to our room earlier in the day, she used that card to enter any room. I swipe the card and slide outside the room. I walk up to the guard on our floor and show the card. He looks suspicious, but waves me through. I stride towards the big red light that says staff door. Another guard waits. I get ready to show the card even though I don’t think it will work because Meredith is technically a patient here. As I approach, I realize that the guard is dreaming in his chair accompanied by a soft snore. I creep past him and out the door. I am out. I didn’t think it would be that easy, but I did it.

 I start to walk towards the park where I said I would meet Jacob. As I approach I see him sitting there so proud and tall. He looks like he just won the lottery. His smug, pretentious expression worries me. As I get closer his eyes are beet red. “Jacob”, I say softly. He lurches towards me unable to control himself. “Winter, my girl” he slurs. His grubby hands are all over me. I am feeling violated so I push him off of me. bad plan. He starts to yell. “ Winter, who do you think you are? You are not allowed to just touch me like that.” His hand swings towards me and  slaps me clear across the face. The area where he hit me is cold and tingly. It begins to burn like my skin is on fire. That is when I realize that I am on the ground. He is still hitting me. I don’t understand what is happening. I see a light and I start to fade into it. I think to myself, “I wonder if this is dying feels like”. 

I wake next to Meredith and the creepy tall lady in a hospital bed in downtown New York City.  I don’t know how they found me or what my punishment will be, but the doctor tells me that I am lucky to be alive. I have just undergone emergency surgery in attempt to fix the internal organ damage caused by Jacobs beating, I look in a mirror. I don’t know who I am looking at, but the girl with scars, her hair shaved off, and a face that resembles a bowl of black and purple plums certainly does not look like me. The doctor continues to say, “Obviously, you will need cosmetic surgery to fix your appearance. We can attempt to make you look as normal as possible.” Great. Ten years in a facility and I might never look normal again. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to the day I packed my bags. I wonder if things would be different. I hear Meredith gasp. I follow her eyesight to the door where Jacob stands looking as if he has been through a hurricane. He doesn’t say a word. He takes one look at me and breaks down into a puddle on the floor. His tears practically drowning my emergency care room. I can barely hear him mutter the words “I’m so sorry” on repeat for about 20 minutes.  Despite my conscience telling me not to, my heart forgives him on the spot. I love this man. I don’t care what he does to me.

Jacob stays with me for the next couple weeks in the hospital. After, I am released back to the facility, but post my rendezvous in the night; I am now sentenced to 20 years here, not ten.   I disregard that completely. Again, after Meredith falls asleep, I take her card and leave.  I meet Jacob just outside the rehab facility. Hand in hand we walk away towards the moonlight.

If you have any questions for me regarding the story... don't hesitate to email me at msandwithcrader@gmail.com I hope you enjoyed it.