Behind the Inhaler Pt. 14

This is just one of those weeks. You know the type of weeks I'm talking about, don't you? Where everything is just off.

To begin I think I jinxed myself with my last blog. I talked about how I didn't get a sinus infection last year and how I hoped to go all winter new disease/illness free. Here I am with my newly diagnosed pityriasis and swelling sinuses. I'm just sitting here cracking up like an idiot because my life is just so messed up. I mean this in the most positive way too. I just find it sickly amusing how strange illnesses always seem to appear in me and none of my friends/family.

I've been dead tired all week due to the fact that my immune systems working triple time. Monday people kept asking me if I was depressed, to which I responded "my face is just naturally critical." Yesterday was absolutely painful. I'm so tired I can't even remember why...but I know I didn't enjoy it. Today was pretty OK. I would have like to have been less tired/sick/dysfunctional. I went to Jefferson for the Spanish 3 language trip. I actually had a lot of fun which says a lot seeing as I'm not a big fan of kids. Just a few hours ago I went out to the barn to ride Peeper (Peter) and he was pretty much dead lame when I got there. My trainer and I think it's the cold mixed with his old bones. I'll be injecting his hocks this weekend in hopes it'll help. Total downer to my day, I hate seeing my boy in pain. Instead I road Ringo who is always a blast seeing as he's a retired National Reining Horse Champion.

These Spanish projects combined with my exhaustion have led to some deep thoughts. It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in 5th grade nearly crapping my pants at the chance to hit a pinata...but here I am now on the other side. I can't believe it's been six years. I remember the Spanish kids coming so vividly. Thinking "that's so long from now," "they're so cool," etc. Now I am one of those High School kids. I have my license now, I remember thinking on my brothers 16th birthday "he's so old now." I've become one of the advanced riders who I used to idolize when I was a kid. I guess what I'm getting at is that life goes by so much quicker than we realize. I find it so strange that I can say terms like "old friends," since when do I have "old" friends? What dictates an "old friend?" Is it one of those unspoken rules like walking on the right? I guess you could say I'm afraid of growing up when really I know I'm afraid of failure. I'm so afraid of failure the thought of it makes me sick. But I never fail by others standards it's always my own. I always feel like I'm letting myself down. That I could have done this, should have know this.

I wish I would have know as a 5th grader what I know now. I wish I would have appreciated the time I had more. But I guess that one of life's greatest mysteries is life itself. Like a protagonist in a mystery novel I was naive and unsuspecting. I didn't realize that the antagonist was staring me in the face. 

A song that basically sums up everything I've said in the past two paragraphs is called Vienna by Billy Joel (click to listen). It truly is a great song (in my opinion).

Peter chilling with his sheet on.

Peters stall last year. Letter to Santa and all. Yes I realize how crazy this must seem but it's all in good fun. I had Christmas lights up too but he was so afraid of them I had to take him down.

A gingerbread house I made in 2009...not my best work haha

Response #13

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 13

I'm writing my blog early this week because I have Speech and Debate all weekend. Lucky for me it's Gahanna's own tournament so I don't have to wake up at four to catch a bus to Cleveland!

I've always enjoyed the winter time. Personally I find that everyone tends to be more nice around the holiday times. Another reason why I love the winter is because my outdoor allergies die with the first full snow/frost. All I have to worry about in the winter is indoor allergies, and my increased chance of catching the flu, phenomena, or bronchitis which are all potentially fatal to someone with respiratory issues like myself.  Last year I lucked out! It was the first year I didn't contract a double sinus infection which for someone like me means hospitalization and months of illness because I'm allergic to the antibiotics. Instead I showed all the signs of a brain tumor/cancer...haha turns out my liver was doing something funky (they determined this after I had a forty five minute waterfall of a nose bleed and had emergency blood work done). I hope this year I can stay relatively healthy!

Another reason why I love winter is the weather. I love the snow, I love being bundled up and warm with cold around me (if that makes any sense), and I love just sitting with a cup of coffee and reading/playing in the snow. I've always been into reading. I love throwing myself into an emotionally gripping book. I think I get this from my father. My house is full of books and winter just sets the perfect mood to read. I remember once when I was in first grade our math assignment was to count all the books in our house. I came in with a number close to 1,000 maybe even over. My teacher gave me an incomplete saying that "no one has 1,000 books in their house," I went home crying to my mom who had to call the teacher and explain to her that we basically have a library in my dads study. Books offer a temporary escape from reality that I love.

One other winter activity that I love is extreme sledding. What is extreme sledding? Well thanks for wondering! My best-friend Martha and I love to temp danger...and our lives. Most of the time what we do seems pretty white trash...haha but it really is an amazing time. Extreme sledding is when we attach a sled/tube to the back of her Mule (not like the animal, but the 4 wheel drive all terrain work car) and go at it 35MPH in the back fields. This is pretty extreme, most of the time we end up half passed out in the field. We usually end up with many bruises but it's all in good fun.

This is the mule.

Martha is ready to extreme sled...haha we both looked so white trash!

These are how this post ties into class this week. These are the complete, leather bound works of Poe, Christie, and Doyle. I love reading these and other complete works my dad owns in his collection. I have to say Poe is my favorite. My favorite poem being "Alone."


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view. 
-Poe 

Part of my dads collection...haha what you can't see is the wall on the right, my room, the basement, and the boxes under my dads bed.

Response #12

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 12

Things I've learned through this crazy thing we call life...

• Nothing is fair
• You're your own worst enemy 
• People suck
• Winning isn't everything 
• Society believes that in order for me to feel good about myself I should be size two and six three. 

Let's start with 'nothing is fair.' You've all been there. "But Mom/Dad that's not fair!" "Well _____, life isn't fair." I hate when people say that. Trust me I know. I've had my share of unfair hands. For example the whole "you're allergic to everything and will never function normally." I first contracted my allergies when I was three. I went over to my best friends house (we were together every day, not kidding) to find out her sister had received a cat for her birthday. I went home about ten minutes later with 75% of my airways restricted. Our parents thought we could avoid the whole cat thing by having my friend come to my house only. Me being as allergic I am had a reaction just from my friend living with a cat. I went from being with this friend every day to having to give up our friendship all together. Like I said not fair. My cat allergy is unlike my horse allergy in the sense that even med's don't help prevent reactions. I'm so allergic to cats that even drugged up like Paris Hilton I would have a reaction that could easily lead to death.

'You're your own worst enemy.' Sounds pretty stupid, huh? But 99% of the time this quote applies to me. I'm very good at assuming. I assume many things. I think it's because I'm so observant. I observe and I make assumptions based off of those observations. Another reason as to why I'm my own worst enemy is because I think way too much. Thinking too much, again sounds stupid but I do it. I think out every single possible outcome to everything situation. Before I even make a discussion I usually have about five possible outcomes/consequences to the action. I ground myself basically. I think my behavior is simply a product of my upbringing. Slowly I've been breaking out of the bubble I've created around myself. I'm still a work in progress.

'People suck.' People is a pretty general statement. Don't have much to say about this other than people typically let you down more than they help you.

'Winning isn't everything.' Some of my proudest moments have occurred in the saddle. The saddle is my home, truly. Some of my favorite ribbons aren't blue, though all my blue ones are treasured. When I was in sixth grade my team drove up to Cleveland to compete at Lake Erie College. The team was doing terrible. I being a beginner at the time was in the last class of the day. I road a small bay horse named Bob. I came in second place out of twelve. I remember just being so proud because I had the highest placing ribbon of my entire team. Some of my greatest lessons I've learned have come losing out. Getting beat down and having to work towards something. in the pursuit of winning. Another one of my favorite ribbons is this great big white one. White is fourth place. the ribbon reads "Limit Equitation Series Overall Fourth." That means of all the shows in the Delaware series, all the points added up in my class I had the fourth highest amount. Eight shows make up the series, I showed only three of them. In three shows I managed to win to Eq. Championships which was enough to win me fourth over all. Sure to giant blue ribbons lead to an even larger white, but the white means more.

And lastly, society believes that in order for me to feel good about myself I need to look a curtain way. Luckily I've never had basic human rights taken away for the way I look, not yet at least. I've always been built larger, and I've always had darker features. Have a mother who was in beauty contests, including Miss Ohio and that works out for a living has never been easy. My mom all five foot nothing of her has always been much smaller than I am, naturally thin. I get harassed by my mother almost daily for my weight, appearance, and to work out. As you can imagine this takes a toll on ones self confidence. When I was younger I simply cried about my mothers harsh words and addiction to self appearance, now I feel sorry for her. I'm sorry that she's never been able to see past people appearance, and I'm sorry that her daughter no longer cares about her harsh words (what she'll do now to make herself feel important, I don't know). I was never and probably will never be the makeup wearing, calorie counting, yoga girl. It's taken me years to start to accept myself for what I am. I've gotten over being larger, I've gotten over not being thin, I've gotten over being told that beauty comes in size two. Beauty to me comes in large accepting hearts. More often than not true beauty to me comes in the form of four legged herbivores.

I hope everyone had a nice holiday! Mine was...interesting. I have S & D this weekend in Cleveland, should be fun. Next weekend is Gahanna's home tournament!

Some of my ribbons in black and white because the color never dictates how well you did.

Currently listening to Brand New (one of my favorite songs).

My room, currently covered in Christmas lights.

Response #11

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Not Behind the Inhaler Pt.1

Thorough our worlds history minority groups such as African Americas have been enslaved by majority groups, this theme carries over in NightJohn by Gary Paulsen. The booming Southern economy of the 1800's thrived because of the African American work forced enslaved by plantation owners. Where the story of NightJohn takes place was not specified (to my knowledge) but it is safe to assume that it took place in the Southern regions of the United States. The story revolves around a young slave named Sarny. Sarny is curious and slightly naive, she doesn't always understand why she has to act different or why things are the way they are. Sarny's primary caregiver Mammy is always there to keep her in line. Sarny is intrigued by a new slave that is bought by her master. Night John, is introduced as a beaten looking African American.  On his first night on the plantation he asks, to no one in particular, "does anyone have any tobacco? I'm willing to trade." Sarny, having tobacco wonders what this man could possibly have to trade, seeing as he was brought in stark naked. Sarny's curiosity gets the best of her and she asks John what he could possibly have to trade. Letters, he said. John unlike most slaves could read and write. Intrigued Sarny makes the trade. Tobacco for letters. The story of NightJohn also introduces you to three slaves like Sarny who were mistreated, broken and treated like Animals. Alice a day dreaming girls was dubbed a breeder by field masters who thought her lack of enthusiasm for working did them no use. Alice after being forced into the breeding shed changed. She lost her will. She wondered up to the main house knowing fully what she was about to do would get her in trouble. The master upon finding Alice lashed her in front of the whole slave community. A few days later she walked off in the middle of the night, hid down in some brush at the end of the property and basically welcomed the dogs to come and have her. She survived. Jim an older man didn't walk away with his life. After running away he grew panic stricken, out of ideas and placed to run he decided to climb a tree to avoid the dogs. Not being able to climb high enough his dangling legs were devoured by the sickly dogs, leaving a lifeless Jim hanging from a tree. And lastly we were introduced to Pawley, a love struck boy who would sneak off to meet a slave from another plantation. One night he accidentally fell asleep with the girl he loved, upon his return to the plantation (much later in the night than usual) he was intercepted by the master and his hounds. The tendon Pawley's master split in his leg for good measure went wrong and led to him bleeding out. Sarny knew that most slaves who ran away didn't make freedom, that they didn't make it North. One night Mammy finds Sarny and NightJohn during one of their learning sessions. Mammy knowing all to well what happens to slaved who begin to read and free think freaks out. Naturally Mammy is curious as to how John knows how to read and write. Both Sarny and Mammy are shocked by his answer. That he, Night John had reached freedom and had made it North. He had learned to read and write but returned to educate slaves such as Sarny. So that Sarny and other slaves stories can be heard, so that people know the truth about what really goes on. Reluctantly Mammy agrees to allow John to teach Sarny to read and write. People like NightJohn and the result of the Civil War allow us to know the truth about what really went on.

In the mid 1900's America was on the verge of a cultural revolution lead by some of this Nations most recognized and celebrated Right's Activists including MLK Jr., and Malcolm X.  The passage we read from the Autobiography of Malcolm X (I believe that's what is was) was entitled "Mascot."   "Mascot" took us through the early teen years of Malcom X, but more importantly shared the turning point in Malcolm's life. Malcolm was an ambitious child, he dreamed of becoming a lawyer, and was elected class president. After a run in with the law Malcolm was sent to live with a nice white couple, the Swerlin's. Unlike most of the kids the Swerlin's fostered they tried to keep Malcolm as long as possible seeing as he brought happiness to their lives. One of Malcom's relatives Ella came to visit. Ella was from Boston and encouraged Malcolm to come visit with her. So Malcolm did just that. He bought a bus ticket from Michigan to Boston and spent the summer in Boston. Malcolm loved the city but returned to Michigan for the start of the next school year. Malcolm enjoyed school, he also excelled at school. Coincidentally school is where Malcolm X's lived took a turn. Mr. Ostrowski one of Malcolm's teachers met with Malcolm to discuss his future career. Malcolm knew early on that he wanted to be a lawyer, Mr. O laughed in his face. Mr. O told Malcolm to be realistic. From that day on Malcolm was very realistic.

Like NightJohn and "Mascot," The Great Debaters is about human rights, social equality and over coming adversity.  Both TGD and NJ take place in the South where racism is a very large issue. All three stories took place at different times in our Nations history. TGD's and "Mascot" being the closest of the three. Both Samantha and Malcolm aspired to be lawyers. Samantha achieved her dream unlike Malcolm. In NJ, Sarny witnessed beatings and lashings of her fellow slaves the kids in TGD's witnessed a lynch mob. In both TGD's and "Mascot" the characters can not only read and write but they're also very well educated. All three stories depict the struggles for African American rights at different times in history.

Behind the Inhaler Pt. 11

I'm writing my blog early again because I'm afraid I'll forget.

On Saturday morning I crawled out of bed at an ungodly hour to drive myself to the High School, where I then jumped on the bus to the Upper Arlington for a  Speech and Debate Tournament. I love the Speech and Debate team, it's always an amazing time. The class is a blast, as are the people in it. At tournaments we always barge into an unused classroom and have "circle up." Circle up is organized chaos. All 40+ of us stand on the outsides of the room and preform our pieces, sides, and pros. It's loud, hectic, and very difficult. We then have a long tedious opening ceremony "good luck teams," "we're behind schedule," etc. and then we break off into our rounds. Individual Event'ers  (I.E.'s) have three rounds (unless their is a power round, then four for the top six teams) while debaters have four rounds (five if their is a power round). Each I.E. round (I'm an I.E.'er) can last up to an hour and a half. Fortunately I'm in DUO so there's always entertainment. After our rounds the I.E.'ers (since we finish earlier) wait around for hours. At Perry it was three and a half, at Upper A. it was two and a half. We play various card games, mafia, the word story game and present small blurbs of our pieces. Finally after hours of waiting debtors return and  the awards ceremony commences. Top six placers are called in each event and then awarded. My partner and I hoped to break top six. You can imagine how shocked we both were when we realized we were the last two standing in front of everyone. Just hearing "And your Duo Interp. Champions from Gahanna Lincoln are Stephanie McCann and Emily Peszlen." sent my mind into shock. It's very humbling receiving a standing ovation something I will probably never forget.

Anyway lets get into how this works into what we've done in class so far. This week we've talked about human rights. My being about as racially ambiguous as it gets have never really felt the sting of segregation or had any "rights" denied due to my background. I never know what to fill out on the sheets. White? Black? Asian? Native American? Why don't they have an all of the above option? I don't know. I am mostly Japanese believe it or not. As I get older my Native American roots seem to be dominating my genes. Any way you look at it my ancestors had to deal with human rights issues.

I like being racially ambiguous because it's incredibly difficult to pin and stereotype me. I'm Asian so naturally I should be smart, yet I have giant eyes. I'm Native American so I should be one with nature, she has the forehead but is allergic to everything outside. She's black so she should like watermelon (don't take it the wrong way, I'm just using a common stereotype) guess what she's allergic to melons.

I sometimes wonder what my ancestors would say or think if they were shown a picture of me and were told "this is the distant product of you." Strange thought isn't it? What would it be like to meet a relative who lived hundreds of years ago? Once they got over the whole culture shock thing I think it'd be very interesting. I wonder the same thing with my not so distant relative like my Grandy. I sometimes wonder if she'd like what I turned into, or if we'd still be just as close. I wonder how my great grandpa Tomojiro would think knowing that he has a great granddaughter that's not only white but American. He lived during all the American Japanese conflict. I guess I'll never know.

Me and my trophy from Speech and Debate...well a part of it. I couldn't get it to fit in the whole picture.

The upper part of the trophy and the squish ball I was also given...haha

What I see when I ride. This is Edward, he is just a little camera shy. If you're curious as to what that metal thing is than you should know that it is a hackmore. It is a bit-less band that is used with sensitive mouthed horses. Edward responds really well to a hackmore, but most people can't ride him in one seeing as he's so strong and it's not a very "quick" bit.

My riding Edward this weekend. I thought I'd share some of my riding with you all in case you were the slightest bit curious. Notice that I worked him into an amazing headset (his neck is low and his face is almost flat).

Response #10

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 10

If you've ever lost someone extremely close to you then you know how it is. You tell yourself, convince yourself even that they're in a happier place, that it's for the better and you'll be together again someday, but in the back of your head you always wonder. Are they safe? Are they really still with me? Losing my Grandy was a reality check of epic proportions. Losing her made me a realist, and it made me bitter. She was my Grandy, my best friend, and my anchor. She kept me grounded.

My Grandy was diagnosed with lung cancer in the spring of 2007. My parents knowing I would take it horribly hid the fact from me, my Grandy living three hours away decided to play along...you can only imagine how devastated and betrayed I felt when I found out from my brother who thought I should know. I understand my parents concern to an extent. But I still have to wonder how they determined hiding the fact that my Grandy was fighting for her life was good for me. I wish I could have been there for her in the beginning, but I didn't know.

I talked to her on the phone as often as I could. I sat here in Ohio worrying as she was passed from specialist to specialist in this state and that state. Finally once summer came I got to see her. Visiting my Grandy and Papas was always the highlight of my summer. I love them both deeply and they truly were amazing people. Summer prior to '07 I would stay with them for weeks. Just the three of us. My Grandy and I would go to the beach almost everyday, we'd sit on her bench that she had been sharing her secrets with since she was a little girl, we eat ourselves sick with Toft's and Pide Pipper ice cream and watch Forrest Gump together until we could recite every line by heart. This summer was much different.

For one my aunt and cousin flew up from Florida to be with us. I've seen my aunt a whopping two times in my entire life, though you'd never guess seeing as she facebook stalks me. I quickly came to realize that this wasn't just a summer visit. This was supposed to be goodbye. There are things about that trip I will always remember and things I want to forget.

I want to remember her laugh, her smile, and how elated she felt when she was having a good day. I want to forget how thin she was, how weak she looked, and how defeated she came of as. The last living memory I have of her is looking out the back window of my moms van onto their driveway as she cried and waved goodbye, I was crying too. We both knew. I don't know how, but we did. And I will always remember what it felt like to step away from the goodbye hug knowing I would never again see her.

After that summer her condition fell even more. She no longer accepted my calls, she didn't want me to hear the pain in her voice, and we very rarely conversed. On November 8th, 2007 my Grandy hit a break through in her cancer. The doctors thought that the worse over and that the latest chemo was working. On the morning of November 10th my Grandy suffered a stroke. Her body had already been tour to shreds, the cancer had done it's job and the stroke pushed her over the edge. My Grandy was taken off of life support that evening. I was at a horse show when I found out in Cleveland and I shut down.

I don't think any part of me was functioning correctly. Just days before I had cried tears of joy upon learning that maybe, just maybe they could beat this cancer and just like that it's all over.


One of the most difficult parts I found was arriving at the funeral home for the wake, walking into the main room and there on this nice table staring me in the face is a small box containing what was left of her. There she was in this box. This stupid mocking box. After about thirty minutes of "you look just like her"'s and "I'm so sorry about your grandmother"'s I had had enough. I went outside and sat on the freezing steps leading to the funeral home, and cried my heart out. It began to snow while I sat on those steps. Small delicate flakes, the first ones of the year. I truthfully think that maybe the snow was sent by her. Showing that she was still with me.

The funeral was painfully long and Catholic. If you've ever been to a Catholic funeral service than you know. It's hours of singing, monotonous prayers, and burning of random things. My being asthmatic and sitting in the front nearly died at my own grandmothers funeral. They were freaking burning this stuff off right in front of me. I'm not very religious as you could have guessed, but my Grandy was so I didn't argue for her sake.

It's been three long years and it's been three hard years. I became very depressed after her death and didn't interact with many. I created my own painful world in which I fought daily battles with myself. If you've ever been depressed than you know just how difficult and serious it is. You suddenly start thinking thoughts you never thought conceivable. I fought depression on my own. Seeing as my parents thought it to be a hormonal phase (because I pms'ed for two years straight /sarcasm). Without my close friends or horses I probably wouldn't have found the strength to get over my own personal hell. And I'm not saying this because I want pity. I want everyone to understand that not everything or everybody is what meets the eye.

This theme is carried over in Twelve Angry Men. We went through the emotional struggles of twelve men as they tried to determine whether or not  a boy accused of murder was in fact a murder.

Mr. Potter, before you go calling guidance counselors and  therapists, you should know that I've fought my way out of depression and am working on becoming a much stronger person on my own, which I think has in the long run benefited me.

I've grown to realize that no matter how much I cry, how angry I get, or how much I tempt life I can't bring her back. I can forget her voice, her smell, and her laugh but no one can ever take away the memories and love I had for her. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself. As lame as that sounds.

November 10th is getting easier as the years pass. One day it will simply be November 10th, not November 10th the day your Grandmother died and you turn into a bigger emotional wreck then the man/woman who begged us all to leave Brittney Spears alone a few years back.

I bet hardly anyone will bother reading this enormous rant, it was way overdue and I apologize for it's size...but if you did survive this rant I ask that you're respectful of my past. It's very hard for me to come out and say that I was depressed, that I wasn't always strong and that I was weak. Sometimes we just need to get things off our chests...

Taken at Relay for Life a few years back. If you ever have the chance to participate in one you should, they're amazing. Twenty-four hours, over thirty miles, it was a blast.

Old picture taken that summer '07. The hobbit on the left is my brother, Jimmy, then me, my father, my mom, my Grandy, my Papa, my Aunt Joan, and my cousin Meg.

Response #9

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Behind the Inhaler Pt.9

Yet another interesting week in the world of Stephanie. It's the first weekend in November which means multiple things.

1. First Speech and Debate tournament of the season! 
2. Breeders Cup
3. Next week is one of my least favorite week out of the year. 

 Speech and Debate is one of the most accredited programs our school has to offer. To clarify a common misconception, S&D is not just people arguing for 45 minutes. I for example compete in humorous duo interp. Which is exactly what is sounds like. It's duo so I have a partner, it's humorous so you should laugh, and it's interpretation meaning I did not write the piece nor did my partner. Our cut How to Rule the World: The Handbook for the Aspiring Dictator is both funny and witty.  I hope we can pull it together this weekend and be successful as a duo and as a team. I highly recommend S&D to anyone. If you have any questions on the events offered just ask me! But remember S&D is highly competitive. You must have stellar grades and a clean record to make the team, even then you're not guaranteed a spot. 


The class itself is incredibly comical. The people in the class are just as diverse as the events. Don't get me wrong S&D is incredibly hard. Not many people can memorize a ten minute speech and preform it in front of others. Not many people can argue until they're red faced and seconds away from lashing out at another. And only three people on the whole team are daring enough to be given a random current event, write a ten minute speech on it, memorize it, and present it...in thirty minutes (extemp'ers are insane). Aside from all this hard work we manage to have an amazing time.

This weekend is also the Breeders Cup Classic. The Breeders Cup although not as known as the Kentucky Derby is just as prestigious. I am not a fan of horse racing. I've seen the cruelty first hand and I know the horrible secrets of the trade. But I am a fan of some of these talented horses. This years Breeders Cup will go one of two ways. It will be one of the greatest upsets in racing history, or one of the greatest moments in racing history.

Fun fact the term "upset" comes from thoroughbred racing. Man o' War one of the greatest racing horses of all time lost one race in his career to a horse named "Upset." Ever since whenever an underdog won it was know as pulling an "Upset." Just as the horse did. Bet you didn't know that!

Anyway, back to why this race will go one of two ways. This year the returning Breeders Cup Classic Champion is running again. Why is this such a big deal? Because she  is 19 in 19. She is six years old (ancient in the horse racing world), and because this is her last race. Zenyatta, was purchased in auction as a filly for the rock bottom price of $60,000 (this is nothing in the horse racing world). And throughout her career she has earned over $8,000,000. One million of which coming from last years Breeders Cup classic. Why am I emphasizing that Zenyatta is female? Because it horse racing very rarely does a trainer dare race his girl against the boys. It's not sexist it's the truth. Male horses are larger, faster, and have more stamina. But Zenyatta rose to the challenge and has gone 19 in 19 against the boys. If she wins this weekend she will end her career as the greatest mare of all time (knocking Ruffian out of her title). This mare has caught the heart of many and I hope that come Saturday at 6:48 her teal and pink colors are crossing the line first.

I'm not going to go into detail as to why I hate the week containing November 10th this week. I think I'll save most of it for next week. I should warn you all thought that November 10th is a very hard day for me to get through. It's been three years since I lost my Grandy to cancer. She was my best-friend, and I loved her very much. It's very difficult for me to talk about still, but I think that sharing her story next week might make me feel better. Even though it's been three years the pain still feels very real. I've never been good at letting go, and I've never been good at goodbyes but I'm getting better. I'm not one to sit around and drown in my own self pity but when it comes to my Grandy it's as though I shut down.

Before I work myself up into a fit I should tie this into class, post a few pictures and a video to piss Colin off and leave it at that for this week.

This week we started reading through a play based around a jury and it's struggle to convict a boy of murder. I've played #12 everyday and has grown to know him as an odd, crazy, and un-decisive person much like my brother who was called to jury duty this summer, but avoided it using a note from work.

Speech and Debate shirt!

Dolly 1, (we have a Dolly 2) I have learned some of the most important lessons when it comes to riding on this mare in the six years I've known her. She is one of the biggest [term for female dog]'s our barn has, she's mean, beautiful, talented, and moody and she knows it. It's fitting that the last time I road this mare I flipped off and was nearly crushed by her (I fell in front of her). I will always remember her for what she is a [female dog], moody, crazy, mare, that was one of the best jumping mounts, ever. I will miss her dearly. But saying goodbye is part of the sport. I will miss her "make me" attitude, her "arphing" (she grunts like a walrus when you ask her to do something she doesn't approve of), and her forward brave jump.

Taken directly from the Columbus Dispatch. Look at the kids and that woman's face!

My video wouldn't upload tonight, I'll try again Sunday. 

Response #8

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 8

What a week. I didn't think I would make it today (Thursday). I saw 3oh!3, Down With Webster, Hellogoodbye, and...Neon Hitch(?) last night at the LC. 3oh!3 is up there with the most entertaining bands I've ever seen live (close competitors would be Jimmy Eat World, Mayday Parade, and Down With Webster). This is the second time I've seen 3oh!3 the first being in 2008, on the Alternative Press Tour with the Maine and Family Force Five (strangest lineup in the history of touring...aside maybe Bonaroo the year they had Kanye West and Brand New).

I had a lot of fun to say the least. One of the opening bands Down With Webster that I had never heard of turned out to be really entertaining live. Listen to their single Whoa Is Me here. It's an incredibly diverse group of seven musicians/singers.

I completely lost my voice and was almost caught by my parents most "orchestra concerts" don't last till 11:45...haha

Music has always been a huge part of my life. I began taking piano at the age of four and continued until I was eight. I've been playing the cello for six years (you might laugh but  it gives me an edge in applying for colleges) and I absolutely love the instrument...but I hate the class. For some reason I've always been more musically inclined. The totally racist reasoning for this is because I am Asian. The politically correct reasoning is because I have been touched by something special.

Music has always been my comfort zone. Whether it be Bach, Vitamin String Quartet, Jimmy Eat World, Mayday Parade, or Of Montreal music has always been there for me. Through my cello I can express emotions I could never dream of sharing verbally. And at concerts I become a very different Stephanie. I'm confident, I'm bubbly, and I honestly don't give a flying you know what about anything. Because for that night it's just the music and I. Every song is sang directly toward me, and I cling onto every word like it's the last.  And now I've even started to use music while riding in Freestyle Dressage and Freestyle reining.

Your taste in music changes over time, but your love for it is always there. Something I've learned over time. I used to think Avril was hardcore.

Music goes hand in hand with the 1st Amendment which gives us freedom of speech. Which coincidentally is the same amendment that they used to rule organized prayer in public schools to be unconstitutional (see how I tied that in there...haha) just like in the trial I'm researching Engel v. Vitale.  I'm ready for these research papers to be over with. Not that I don't enjoy researching, it's just getting old.

This weekend I have to work on my speech and debate script seeing as the first tournament is...next weekend. Not good. I also have the barns Halloween party. I've won the costume portion three years in a row. Should be fun, one year we ended up bobbing for apples with the horses...the horses won. Hopefully it's just as fun as last years Christmas party which turned into a thirty person snow massacre.

I hope you all have a fun and safe Halloween weekend!

Snow brawl, I'm in the black coat. Order from left to right is Cassey, myself, Miranda and Jonathan.

Horrible quality picture... but this is "Peep" the chick magnet. He hated me for about a week after this.


Horse "dancing" if you're interested. It's pairing technical dressage with music. Very difficult if not timed correctly. Dressage without music is difficult enough. When was the last time you trained your dog to trot in place? haha

Orchestra can play cool music too?   Vitamin String Quartet takes popular pop songs and re arranges them for orchestral instruments.

Response #7

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 7

What a miserable week! I think I've spent more time in the doctors office than my own room. Last Thursday not only did I pass my drivers test (didn't miss a single point) but I had another spine checkup at the hospital. The first day of summer was my first doctors appointment for my spine. I was told that I had jeopardized my mobilization by not stopping at the first sign of pain. How was I supposed to know my spine was fractured? Yes it hurt like mad, but again I have a high pain tolerance. Since then I've been through nine weeks of physical therapy (two sessions a week), nine sessions of functional rehab, and a strict non-athletic schedule. Most of my sharp pain has subsided however I still have this constant nagging pressure. Concerned my doctor set up an emergency MRI for Monday (I received a radiation dye test back in June which was the craziest most insane medical experience of my life)   which was incredibly obnoxious, loud, and uncomfortable. Not to mention I'm incredibly claustrophobic and have anxiety issues. Tuesday I received my weekly immunutherapy injections. Wednesday I had my last session of functional rehab (I nearly cried tears of joy) and today (Thursday) I had my final appointment with this doctor and my MRI reading.

They found nothing. You'd think that would be a good thing. But in my case it's not. I first started feeling pain in January (which means I went through an entire season of Varsity track with a spinal fracture and that we're closing in on a year) and we still haven't been able to correct everything. The fracture itself healed (incorrectly but it tried...ha). The muscles are an entirely different story. I wanted them to find something. Clear as day, that's the problem let's fix it. But no, my track record for being a medical mystery continues and I'm being sent to a specialist.

This injury has been so frustrating that I'm getting increasingly more bitter about it. I can hardly ride, and by the end of the day it feels like someone is clawing into my spine.

I am currently procrastinating on my outline with my blog...in a way it's a win-win. I'm procrastinating English homework...with other English homework. I think I'm making improvements.

Have a fun weekend everyone!

Dolly AKA "I've Got an Attitude" registered AQHA. The green foam is the product of her breakfast and a hard workout.

A little girl fell in love with Peter and wrote him a book as a part o her second grade project. I thought it was absolutely adorable.

Mr. Potter shared his dog so here's one of the barn dogs...this is Jester...being Jester. He's a pitty mix.

This is Ralphie he's a boxer mix. Jester is "his" dog.

Jimmy Eat World concert. It was amazing in case you were wondering. They played three of my favorite songs "23," "Futures,"  and "Hear You Me" (click the song titles to listen).
 

Response #6

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 6

Let me start off this week by saying that I hate research papers. I'm all for expanding knowledge but I really hate keeping track of all these note cards. Of course I would pick one of the most controversial cases dealing with religion. I'm not going to dig into specifics since religion is such a touchy topic and I don't want to insult anyone.


I really needed this four day weekend. It has been...28 days in a row of waking up before six (doesn't help that I can't sleep half the time anyway). This is one of the worst times of year for a Human Guinea Pig. Ragweed is up, the air is moist, and the leaves are molding. My allergists loves this time of year. This is when they test out all their new medications...on me. That is why I have grown to call myself a Human Guinea Pig over the years. Let me just say experimental group A was terrible. I haven't been sleeping and I feel like a power drill is slowly prying into my skull.


Being a Human Guinea Pig I've grown an insanely high tolerance for pain. In second grade two of my medications counteracted and started an acidic reaction that tour away at my stomach, I went to school. In fourth grade a draft horse (weighs over one ton) stepped on my big toe, literally flattening it. I never got an x-ray and I walked on it for five years before a doctor confirmed that my toe is in fact connected by nothing but the nerve. In sixth grade I was kicked in the side of the leg twice by a horse (same place in a matter of seconds). I was in the show ring, I finished the class got off and then got my tall boot ripped off due to swelling. I  still have a giant hematoma there, didn't shed a tear.


Human Guinea Pigs aren't really given a choice when it comes to being brave. No medication has any guarantee in fact in my personal experience  most of them make it worse. But I let them test all this on me because I hope that some day when some kid comes along that is just like me...they won't have to be a human guinea pig. They'll have advanced medications that don't counteract your others. That they won't have to take two inhalers, two pills, eye drops, a nasal spray, and shots every time they want to be around what they love most (talking about horses, going to friends houses, school, being outside).


One day very  soon I know I'll have had enough. My liver will reflect that of an alcoholics and my insomnia will reach an all time high. I just hope that they make some medical breakthrough before I reach that point...haha

I hope everyone has a safe fun weekend!


By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.

Response #5

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Behind the Inhaler Pt.5

One of my absolute favorite parts about reading is when you can make a direct connection into the story. When you can sit back and easily say "I know exactly what that's like."

In the fourth grade I had road a different barn than I do today (yes another blog post about horses). I had always been curious about this medium, chestnut horse who resided in the main isles last stall. There were three stalls between him on one side and a wall on the other, no horse lived in the stall across from him. I heard through the grape vine that this horse "Jack" was crazy. He bucked everyone off, he bit people, he charged other horses, and he genuinely hated life. You can imagine the terror I felt the day my trainer told me to "go ahead and tack up the crazy one." Reassuring, right?

I walk over to this horses stall cautiously, I was after all preparing for my emanate death. At first glance Jack was a very handsome horse. He had large "blazing" eyes, you can tell a lot about a horse by there eyes. Where they've been, what they're like, how bad they've been treated. You can see it all, if you bother to look deep enough. I instantly knew that this horse wasn't "mean," "evil," or "crazy." He was broken, beaten, and given up on.

Me being as curious as I was held my breath, reached out my hand and unlatched the bars to his stall. Almost immediately Jack whipped his head around and bit me right on the forearm. Me having no patients for rude horses looked him right in the eye and bit him back. Yes you're thinking "that's cruel!" "he's just an animal!" "I'M E-MAILING PETA!" Well guess what, he bit me first, I'm an animal too.

After I bit him he stood as though he had been a lesson horse his whole life. He stood and watched as I hesitantly tacked him up , and followed my every movement with paranoid acuteness. I led him to the arena, I tightened his girth, I quickly mounted (I had heard horror stories about him rearing and charging when people tried to mount) and had the best ride of my life.

In a way Jack became my horse. I trusted him and he trusted me. After a while he began to recognize me, he'd even "snicker" when I called for him. My trainer couldn't believe it. I got this "crazy" horse to go around the arena jumping like he had been doing it his whole life.

I saw something in Jack and he saw something in me. I was the only person who could pet him, ride him, jump him, and control him. His owner hadn't a clue. She owned her horses for her lesson program. Jack had fallen into her hands due to a friends passing, the bitter horse was just sent to exile to be ignored until I came a long. He wasn't trusted and she didn't want him. He was a "menace to the barn."

I think maybe the reason he saw something in me is because I myself saw something in him. He had been given up on and I gave him more than an opportunity to buck some kid off, I gave him the chance to be cared about, a chance to be "heard."

Jack had never done nothing wrong. He had been put in a position to become bitter, cruel, and mean (if you were thrown into exile in a 12x14 stall you would go crazy too). Horses are wild animals. They will attack when frightened, or provoked.

I sometimes wonder that if I had been there on that September night I'd still have him.

I walked into the barn on a Thursday like I would any other. I had been consistently working with Jack for a year and a half at this point, and was excited for yet another day with him. About half way down the isle I called out like I did every time "Jack Jack!" No snicker, no whinny. I knew before I even reached his stall that something had happened. I knew something was wrong.

Come to find out by one of the stall cleaners that Jack had bitten a girl in the forehead, and his owner instantly put him down him to avoid legal issues.

The girl didn't need stitches, and she didn't go to the hospital.

I found out a week later by a witness that the little girl had been taunting Jack with a carrot when he "bit" her. The witness thinks he was simply just trying to get the carrot.

Atticus said it's sin to kill a mockingbird. It's sin to kill something that had never done anything wrong. It's not Jack's fault. Horses don't get to pick the people in their lives. It's all luck. It's not his fault that man corrupted him into the bitter horse that others came to see him as.

I've yet to find a horse that even comes close to Jack. I don't think I'll ever forget him.

~*~
An update about the World Equine Games in Lexington! I have a few pictures just to add to this already lengthy blog post (honestly some people write a five sentence paragraph and say it took them fifteen minutes).

Just chilling...on a giant goose. This goose is actually a jump! It was part of the cross country eventing course. The course also included a giant fish jump, and bird jump.

A beautiful white horse from the Canadian team jumping the famous "Twin Spires" fence.

Spread, brush fence during the cross country phase. I think this is a Swedish rider...maybe South African they wore simular uniforms.

Response #4

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 4

I'm writing my fourth response on Wednesday night as apposed to Friday since I'll be in Lexington all weekend.

Why will I be in Lexington? Thanks for wondering!

To answer your question I will be in Lexington, KY because the World Equestrian Games are going on as you read! What are the WEG's? The WEG's are in a sense the Olympics of the equine world (Dressage, show jumping, and cross country are also in the Olympics).

The Blue Grass state has built a brand new multimillion dollar facility just for this event! People from all around the world will be attending, competing, and reporting on this event.  This is the first time in the history of the WEG's that they are being held outside of Europe (look at that I'll be a part of history)!

Let's go team U.S.A.!

Roman Emperor Hadrian once said "brick by brick. my citizens, brick by brick." Tom Robinson was convicted of rape which was really no surprise. What was a surprise however is how long it took for the jury to come up with there decision. The jury took hours to come up with a decision leading us to believe that there were discrepancies amongst them. Which was one step, or brick, closer to a world where a white mans word would be equal to that of a black mans.

This particular quote by Hadrian is one of my favorites because it can relate to most life themes. I quote it often and was more excited than I should have been to make the connection between the quote and what Atticus considered to be a different kind of win.

I guess you could say that brick by brick, I am getting closer to my departure for Kentucky (this really is a big deal to me...it's just like the World Cup this past summer).

Or that brick by brick, I am getting closer to ending this blog and will be forced to study even though I've been trying my hardest to procrastinate.

What I will be watching at the WEG's

This is Peter(AKA Headliner). He is your stereotypical thoroughbred.  As you can see the camera has caught his attention. About two milliseconds after this was taken Peter decided to headbutt me. He had determining that  the camera was in fact a killing machine.

This picture is five years old (holy cow). I'm riding Edward (AKA Deluxe Edition). You'd never guess by looking at him but this massive gelding is a Quarter Horse. This horse was not named after any Twilight character let me make this very clear to you. I am so sick of people asking if I named a horse after a fictional sparkling vampire. Edward has been alive since before Stephenie Meyer could determine the differences between 'to,' 'two,' and 'too.'

Have a nice weekend everybody!

Response #3

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Behind the Inhaler Pt.3

It's nearly October and we all know what that means...Homecoming! Which I will conveniently be missing to attend a concert with my brother and best friend. Ironically enough last year I skipped out on homecoming to attend another concert. You might as, was it worth it? My answer is simple, yes.

Last year I attended the Alternative Press "Fall Ball" tour which one of my favorite bands happened to be headlining. The gimmick of the "Fall Ball" was that they offered a "dress to impress" contest. The group or individual who dressed the most insane had the opportunity to win backstage passes. I lost a lot of dignity that night in my purple dress, fluffy orange fedora, rainbow boa, multi-colored converse, all while draped in beads but it was all in good fun. Plus three of my closest friends dressed just as ridiculous as I did. My lost dignity was soon forgotten when a nice young hipster looking girl named Nicole approached us in line informing us that she was incredibly impressed by our outfits, and promptly handed us four backstage passes.

Favorite band + backstage passes + homecoming dress (and some interesting choice accessories) > Homecoming.

It just so happens that this year that one of my other favorite bands Jimmy Eat World (yes they're 'older' but they have some insanely amazing songs, and a new album coming out) will be in Columbus on the same night as homecoming in the exact same venue.

Irony at it's best, I know. Thankfully this year I wont have to dress like an idiot. I'll be perfectly happy in the mosh pit.

You might ask how this all ties into English class, well I'll tell you.

Attending the concert with me will be one of my best friends Emily, and my twenty-one year old brother Jimmy. Jimmy and I are very different from Jem and Scout but at the same time we are very simular.

Jimmy and I are five years apart. Growing up I followed his every move. When Jimmy went through a phase, I went through a phase. When Jimmy became a moody teenage, I became a moody child. When Jimmy matured, I matured. It's just how it went. Like Scout I look up to my brother in many ways growing up. We spent  our better days keeping each other company as our parents went about their busy lives just as Scout and Jem do. And like Jem and Scout we eventually started to fall apart. Suddenly I wasn't the most important girl in my brothers world, I wasn't 'cool,' and his bedroom door was scarcely found open. We maintained a close, relationship from a far. We never fought and if we did it was usually settled within minutes. Jimmy now  attends BGSU and I see my Japanese Grandma more than I see him. It's become very evident over the past three years that my brother is much more important to me, than I am to him. I'm the first to text, first to call, and first to reach out. My pleas for his comfort usually go ignored. I feel as though Scout might be going through the same unsure feelings with Jem .

That's why my brother driving down from BGSU to take my friend and I to this concert is so special to me. It was Jimmy who introduced me to Jimmy Eat World, and it was five years ago when we decided one day we'd see them together sometime before either we, or they died.

The concert is about two weeks away and I can't wait. I hope everyone has a safe fun time at Homecoming.

I now get to go straight to the barn until about 10:30 then I get to wake up at 5:30AM to go back to the barn and work a horse show. No sleep will be done this weekend and I can guarantee that I will be antisocial and cold all week due to my lack of sleep. Considering I did the same exact thing last weekend.

Hope you all have a great weekend, sleep in for me.

Backstage ;)

Response #2

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Behind the Inhaler Pt.2

It's Friday late afternoon and I need to get this blog done by tonight. My weekend is pack with horse shows, barn work, horses, horses, and more horses. Usually I'd be extremely excited to horse show especially since it's the first show of the IEA (Interscholastic Equestrian Association) Zone 5, Region 2 show of the year which just so happens to be at my barn. But I won't we showing this weekend or maybe even this whole season thanks to my once fractured, now irritated spine. Eight weeks of physical therapy, and two sessions of Functional Rehab have done nothing but push me to the brink of insanity. I went from a full season of varsity track, and horse showing to no physical activity at all. All physical therapy does is remind me of how much I can no longer do. Sure I've recently started riding horses again but it's not the same. I went from jumping well over three foot fences on our barns elite horses to "you can walk while being supervised for ten minutes on a horse." So here I am stuck on the sidelines praying that my back recovers enough for me to jump in towards the end of the IEA season (no pun intended).

In the first chapter of To Kill a Mocking Bird, Scout informs us of Jem's genuine fear of never being able to play football again because of his once badly broken elbow. I can tell you first hand that there is no worse feeling in the world than that of doubt over whether or not you can ever return to what you love. I'm a self confessed horse freak, I'll admit it. They're my life they keep me sane. I'm not sure how deep Jem's love of football goes but I sure can empathize with him.

It's like taking a public speakers ability to speak away. You just don't know what to do with yourself.

Until next week,

Steph 

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Behind the Inhaler Pt. 1

Pretty clever title for my first blog, huh?

Let me introduce myself, I am Stephanie and I have asthma (among other things). You can call me many things a "human guinea pig," a pin cushion, an asthmatic, an Asian who commits high treason by default (I am horrible at math), a "human error," or just simply a girl.

I'm the most stubborn person I know. It's blatantly obvious that I have asthma. But what most people don't know is I am also allergic to almost everything that can move, has a scent, is intended to better your life, or is needed to survive. For example the sun. I am "ultra sensitive" to UV rays. Which is a nice way of saying you're allergic to the sun. Easy way to get around this right? Move to Alaska or some other vacant place that has almost no sunlight everyday...well that could work if I wasn't also allergic to cold. Yes cold. You know those great frozen drinks at Starbucks? They constrict my airways. Cold is in fact a proven allergy. Anyway back to how this ties in with me being stubborn. Maybe you've noticed my profile picture. In it I'm standing next to a horse. This wouldn't be so crazy if I wasn't deadly allergic to horses, hay, dust, and anything else that can dwell in a barn. I was told one day when I was very young that I "can't" ride horses because it would basically be asking for death. Like most stubborn people I outright ignored the "can't" and started riding lessons the next week (I was and still am heavily drugged before I step foot in the barn) and guess what...I'm still alive.

My stubbornness and love for horses leads me straight to my tie into Mr. Potter's class with this blog post. This week we read poetry. I'm the first to admit...I really dislike poetry. It seems like a lot of work when you could simply come out and say "I took the hard path in life and I don't regret it." But their is one poem that I have always loved because I can directly relate to it. The poem is called "Just a Horse" it's writer is unknown and I'm only going to share a stanza since it's insanely long.

From time to time, people tell me,
“lighten up, it’s just a horse,”
or,”that’s a lot of money for just a horse”.
They don’t understand the distance travelled,
the time spent, or the costs involved for “just a horse.”
Some of my proudest moments have come about with “just a horse.”
Many hours have passed and my only company was “just a horse,”
but I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by “just a horse,” and in those days of darkness,
the gentle touch of “just a horse” gave me comfort
and reason to overcome the day.
If you, too, think it’s “just a horse,”
then you will probably understand phrases like “just a friend,”
“just a sunrise,” or “just a promise.”

-Anonymous