My Final Selfie

My final selfie for our Digital Storytelling. Thank you so much and good luck to all of you!

The Hampton Classic

This week, I had the pleasure of attending the Hampton Classic in Bridgehampton, NY. The Hampton Classic is one of my favorite events of the year. It makes the ending of summer less harsh. You get to go outdoors and enjoy the weather, watch fantastic riders on their gorgeous horses, and eat some of the best food that can come out of a food truck!

A Digital Romance Story

Tyranous. That was the name of my boyfriend when I first met him. He had pale skin and long, black hair. His ears were pointed and he was skinny and agile, running through Drak’Tharon Keep in his long robes, casting spells and hurling chaos bolts at every enemy we met. Confused? I don’t blame you. If you don’t play World of Warcraft then I’m sure you are sitting there, scratching your head, wondering what planet I’m from.
I know, I know. You met your boyfriend on World of Warcraft?! Pffft. Believe it or not, I would have had the same exact reaction as you before I met Alex. But opinions change.

My history of dating has been… rough, to say the least. I haven’t always chosen the winners. Drug addict? Check. Physically abusive? Been there, done that. Moocher? Got the t-shirt. So when the Dungeon Finder on World of Warcraft randomly threw me into a group with Tyranous, later introduced as Alex, I’m pretty sure fate was throwing me a bone.

The odds of us meeting are extraordinary. That we happened to be online at that same moment, levelling at the same level, and queueing for a dungeon at the same time? Incredible. With over ten million people subscribing to WoW, it’s a wonder that we met at all. I have the same exact odds of winning the lottery. (And in a way, I did.)

I’m going to backtrack for a second and introduce you to my friend, the number ten twenty-three. (You have to say it like that, ten twenty-three. One thousand twenty-three just doesn’t work.) This number is special. It has followed me around my entire life. For years I would always look at the clock at – you guessed it – 10:23. Prices for objects I purchased and the change I received would commonly be $10.23. When I was applying for a job at a dog shelter, they informed me that the previous year they had adopted out 1,023 animals. Now, you’re probably rolling your eyes and saying, it’s a coincidence – big whoop! Let me stop you there. I am not a believer in fate or soulmates or anything of the sort, at least I wasn’t before Alex came into my life, but this became such a normal happening for this number to shadow me that even my friends began joking with me about it. For a long time, we were convinced that something tragic would happen on October 23rd and ten twenty-three was my warning. It was an omen for bad things to come. Every year we would cross our fingers that I wouldn’t be struck by lightning or hit by a bus.

Back to Alex and me: we met, fell in love, and lived happily ever after – right? Wrong. Life is unfortunately not that simple and easy. And love and relationships are work – hard work. During the first six months after meeting, Alex and I swapped cellphone numbers and Skype information and would text and video chat every day. He quickly became one of my closest friends. We had so much in common and we could just talk for hours. We opened up to each other and shared secrets that we had never told another soul. Of course, there was some heavy flirting – but nothing more than that. We were 1,023 miles apart with Alex living in Missouri and me living in New York. How could a relationship like that ever work out?

After six months of connecting, Alex suddenly dropped off of the face of the Earth. He stopped responding to my texts and never logged onto WoW. I assumed he had gotten a girlfriend and she had put a kibosh on his gaming and socializing time. A little hurt that I could be dropped and forgotten about so quickly since we were such good friends, I gave up trying to contact him altogether. I deleted his number from my cell phone but, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to delete him from my friends list on WoW.

Soon after Alex and I stopped talking, I took a step back from gaming myself. My best friend, Lindsey, and I went on a two month long cross-country road trip. Originally, Alex and I had planned to meet up on this trip when we passed through St. Louis, but it wasn’t meant to be. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out if we had met up.

Now, here’s where ten twenty-three comes in. On October 23, 2013, I re-subscribed to World of Warcraft. Guess whose birthday it was? That’s right – Alex’s. And he received a subscription card for WoW as a present and re-subscribed that same day. And when he told me his birthday later on, guess how he said it? “Ten twenty-three.” Yep. Not “October 23rd” but “ten twenty-three.” Naturally, I freaked out. In a good way.

Fast forward another month. Alex and I finally ripped off the band aids and confessed our feelings for one another. We began dating. Let me tell you – long distance relationships are tough work. Plus, we hadn’t met yet face to face. People would mock me endlessly for dating someone I had met on a video game and even more so because I had never been less than 1,023 miles away from him. And, to be completely honest, I personally never thought Alex and I would last. Other than the distance between us, it just seemed too good to be true.

Once February rolled around, I gathered my belongings and hopped on an airplane to go meet him for the very first time. We were planning to spend Valentine’s Day together. How cliché, right? I was an absolute bundle of nerves. I was so worried that he would find me unattractive in person, that somehow webcams and camera phones had hidden all of my flaws and, once standing before him, he would be repulsed.

All my fears were pushed aside as I met eyes with him at the top of the escalator. I had to cover my face because I could feel the fire in my cheeks and knew my face was as red as ever. Once I reached the bottom, I ran to him and threw my arms around him, hugging him close. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him and we just stood there, embracing each other, for what seemed like hours.

Finally, we pulled apart. “Hi,” I said and smiled shyly, still covering my mouth with my hand. I was so timid.

“Hey, stranger,” he said in his Midwestern drawl and winked. He was (and is) so impossibly handsome. His smile is dangerously contagious – with an ear-to-ear grin that spreads dimples like ripples through water. His deep, brown eyes squint and he gets a devilish glint in them. I could stare at him for hours and admire the dip of his chin, the slope of his nose, the freckles on his face, the angle of his jaw… He is truly a sight to see. And he was even more handsome in person, without a computer screen separating us. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

I spent a week in Missouri with Alex and his family and he travelled back to New York with me and spent a week with me and my family. We were so nervous to meet each other’s relatives and so giddy and ecstatic to finally be able to touch and hold and kiss each other. It was, indisputably, the best two weeks of my life. Hands down.
Some people will say that we jumped into this relationship too quickly, but we did things our way. And it worked for us. Two weeks after Alex’s trip to New York, he moved in with me. Whoa, you’re probably thinking, that was soon. And I would have to agree with you. But you try being 1,023 miles away from the one you love!

I’m happy to report that all worked out for the best. Although Alex ended up feeling out of place in New York, we both came to the mutual agreement that moving back to Missouri was for the best. And guess who he dragged along with him? You guessed right again – me.

“What brought you to Missouri?” is a common question I get asked here in St. Louis. When people find out that I am a New York native, they immediately wonder why I would leave.

“Oh, a boy,” I laughed and wave my hand dismissively, because I know what they are thinking. They are wondering why I would leave the coast, my family, my friends, my job – leave all of it behind to move to the Midwest.

“Wow,” they usually respond, nodding their heads in disbelief, undoubtedly wondering how I could be so foolish. I know that these people simply don’t understand because they haven’t felt a connection with someone like I have with Alex. They don’t realize that when you meet someone and have so many signs that this is meant to be, that this person you just met is your future, that you hold on to them with dear life. You don’t let someone like that go.

I am happy to announce that Alex and I have moved into our new apartment April 1st, 2015. Our address? 1023 Selkirk Lane. And that was not planned, I swear! We have been dating for almost two years now and we are still going strong. Our relationship has not been an easy one, by any means. Coming from two extremely different backgrounds, both financially and geographically, has caused many difficult nights of bickering over what to consider “excess spending” and where we should spend certain holidays. We have learned and grown together. And I hope that we continue to do so for many years to come.

The Atlantic

I have never felt so landlocked and claustrophobic in my entire life. My entire sense of direction is tilted. I am currently living in the Midwest after my heart decided to rip itself from the safety of my chest where I kept it hidden behind my ribcage. It marched to St. Louis, Missouri and clung desperately to a boy. You see, I had to move. I had no choice in the matter. But here… Here, I have no ocean to use as my guide. No ocean to stand next to and put everything into perspective. No ocean to make me feel small in a vast world of water and sky.

My previous home, located on the east end of Long Island, was almost exactly a ten minute walk away from the ocean. My dog, Roxy, and I would walk to the beach almost every single day. This became such an integrated part of our routine that I honestly have no idea what to do with myself when four o’clock rolls around.

This year, I will not be able to savor that first plunge below the waves after an entire winter of being deprived of the ocean’s embrace – that moment when you submerge yourself entirely below the surface and the biting chill of the water steals the breath right from your lungs. You think to yourself that there’s no way your body could ever adjust to being in such a cold environment and yet – every time – it does. I will not be able to run across the scalding black sand of the dunes in July to cool my heels in the Atlantic’s forgiving waves. And seagulls. Oh, how I will miss the seagulls. I will not be able to throw them the crust of my tuna sandwich and watch as they fight and squabble over the scraps of bread.

The ocean has been a part of me for my entire life. If you cut open my veins, seawater would come pouring out. My strongest memories are of the ocean. When I was only four years old, my mother and stepfather, Stephen, took me on a trip to Barbados. I remember Stephen waking me up from sleep in the middle of the night. Groggily, I was lifted onto his strong shoulders where I dozed, my cheek resting on the top of his head as he carried me to the beach.

“Look!” he roused me from my slumber. “Look at the sea turtle!”

I blinked my eyes open lazily to see a large sea turtle, lit by the flashlights and torches of dozens of people around us. It was huge, as wide as I was tall, and was sitting above a large hole. We watched as it laid its eggs carefully into the hole. To be able to witness this firsthand at such a young age is a gift I will never forget.

The next summer, my mother rented a house on Fire Island for two months. We were stranded there when a small hurricane wandered up the east coast and stumbled upon our little island vacation home, deciding to stay for a few days and rest. I remember standing on the sand dunes with my older cousin and looking on in awe at the dark waves, large and intimidating, thundering past me. I began throwing rocks into the brown, murky water.

“Stop doing that!” my cousin, Robin, snapped at me.

“Why?” I asked her inquisitively.

“The ocean will get mad at you,” she teased. As if on cue, a huge wave came up and crashed into us, sending me tumbling down the dunes and my family scrambling after me. I learned to respect the ocean that day. A lesson I will never forget.

The ocean holds so many fascinating creatures. My father used to go on long fishing trips, weeks and weeks of living on his boat in the middle of the Atlantic, catching fish and weathering storms and swimming in the ocean. Accompanying him on these trips was such a treat for me. I loved watching him battle a huge marlin or tuna, the fishing rod bent at an almost impossible angle as he strapped himself into the fighting chair. I would always run to the side of the boat and peer into the water as my father’s friends ran to his aid. I would squeal with delight when the fish was finally hauled onboard or groan loudly with disappointment if the line snapped. I would imagine the fish, hook still in its mouth, swimming away from the boat as swiftly as possible, fishing line trailing behind it.

I have never been afraid of the ocean. I had learned to respect it and the creatures that called it home at a young age. When I was around seven years old, we went to the Bahamas for Christmas with my cousins. My cousin, John John, and I were walking along the shoreline when we wandered upon a stingray. It had washed up upon the sand and was drying out in the sun. I stopped short and stared at the creature, watching for any sign of movement or life. John John crept towards it curiously.

“Don’t touch it!” I grabbed John John’s wrist and pulled him back.

“Why not?” he scoffed and yanked his wrist from my grip. He snuck closer. “It’s dead.”
As if to teach him a lesson, the stingray twitched and flailed its large tail in panic. The poisonous barb stabbed John John in his upper arm as he had been bending down to touch the creature. His screams could be heard for miles. He still has the scar to this day. The stingray was later killed for doing nothing other than being a stingray.

I have nothing except memories to ease my longing in my current landlocked state. I miss swimming. I miss sand. I miss barbeques and bonfires on the beach late at night, roasting s’mores and cuddling under beach blankets. I miss mosquito bites and jellyfish stings and getting my toes pinched by crabs. I miss surfboards and boogie boards and paddle boards and wipe outs. I miss jumping off the bow of a boat into the ocean. I miss breathing in the salty air while listening to the sound of the waves crashing upon the shore or lazily rolling upon the sand. I miss looking down and admiring the seashells and their diversity and picturing all of the creatures they once homed. I miss staring at the horizon and seeing only water for miles and miles on end, reflecting the pink and purple skies which hold a heavy-eyed sun. I miss my coastal sunsets, the sun yawning and appearing to dip into the sea itself, until only darkness remained and then the stars would come out to comfort you.

The great thing about the ocean is that I know it will never leave me. I am able to leave it, however – to go off on my own life’s adventures, to follow a boy thousands of miles away from my ocean’s comforting familiarity. I know that it will be waiting for me when I eventually return. I know it will let me sink below the surface of its waves and it will hold me like no man ever could. And, like all first loves, I will return to it time and time again.

Cecil the Lion

By now, we are all familiar with the unfortunate story of Cecil the lion. Cecil was a 13 year old male Southwest African lion residing in the Hwange National Park in Matabeleland North, Zimbabwe. He was baited out of the safety of the national park by Walter Palmer, an American dentist and big-game hunter, and two local poachers. Palmer paid $50,000 for the opportunity to shoot Cecil.

Cecil’s death has caused a large public outcry, and yet he was the fifth lion this year to be lured out of the national park and killed as a trophy. Cecil’s death created a shockwave of outrage throughout the world because he was such an iconic figure.

Fortunately, some good may come out of this tragic event. Awareness has been raised and so far $470,000 has been donated to Oxford University’s Wildlife Conservation Research Unit which supports lion conservation efforts in Hwange National Park. Furthermore, Zimbabwe has suspended all hunting on lions, tigers, and elephants.

A group of elephants – a mother and her four calves – were killed and left to rot in Tsavo West National Park, Kenya. Their ivory tusks were hacked off by poachers only days after Cecil was killed. This event has received almost no media coverage, despite the publicity and awareness being raised about Cecil the lion. Poachers pose a much bigger threat to elephants. In the last three years alone, poachers have slaughtered more than 100,000 elephants. In fact, every year, poachers slaughter 35,000 of the estimated 500,000 African elephants, which is a kill rate faster than the elephants are able to reproduce — a level of destruction that has put the species on the road to extinction. Unlike many other animals, elephants mourn the death of their brethren, wrapping their trunks around the bones or carcasses of the deceased. The elephants are targeted because the ivory from their tusks can sell for up to $1,500 a pound on the black market, and is of particular value in Asia.

Roxy

Roxy has been a part of my life for almost a decade. An Australian Cattle Dog mutt, rescued from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I found her at the end of a long hallway in a temporary holding cage on wheels at the North Shore Animal League of America. I was there with my mother and my aunt for a puppy. I had just lost my horse due to complications from gastrointestinal surgery and my mother insisted that I needed something to fill the new void in my life. Something to keep me busy, preoccupied. A distraction. Well, we found it sitting in that cage. Roxy looked up at me with her funky eyes – one blue, one brown – and her silly ears – one up, one down – and I nodded to my mother that she was the one.

Roxy is my best friend, my copilot, my sidekick – my soulmate. I can’t help but feel sorry for people who have never experienced this type of relationship, true unconditional love. People talk about soulmates as if it’s someone you’re going to marry and spend the rest of your life with. Well, my soulmate, or should I say my soultwin, is my dog. Laugh all you want, but Roxy has never once betrayed my trust or made me feel like anything less than the most wonderful, amazing, incredible person in the entire world.

As perfect and ideal as this relationship is, I am also sadly reminded that good things don’t last forever as I look at Roxy’s graying face. My dog is almost ten years old. She just had a cancerous tumor removed. She will, unfortunately, not be a part of my life forever. While I hope that she defies the odds and lives well into her thirties, I know that this is unlikely. When I come home from running to the store and Roxy is wagging her tail and wiggling her body and barking that annoying, excited high-pitched bark because she is just oh-so-overjoyed that I have returned home after being gone for a whopping twenty minutes, I can’t allow myself to be irritated at her. This behavior used to typically lead me to eventually bellow, “Enough, go lie down!” after humoring her overzealous greeting, causing her to tuck her tail, squint her eyes, and pull her ears back in a submissive display of affection as she tiptoed off to lay in her beddie. Now, I greet her just as enthusiastically!

And this is what Roxy has taught me. An invaluable lesson to learn, undoubtedly. Roxy has taught me to appreciate the now, to live in the moment. To greet everyone I love and care about enthusiastically – let them know how much they matter to me and how happy I am that they are in my life. We should all make time for people that are important to us. Never take life and the people (and animals!) in it for granted, you never know how much time together you have left. We should all try to live up to our dogs’ expectations of who we are. The world would be such a better place.

Now, go hug your dog.

Euro K

Euro K is my newest project horse. He is an offtrack Thoroughbred gelding standing at 17.3 hands – so he is a big boy! He was raced once and came in dead last. I suppose his owners realized he had absolutely zero potential as a racehorse so they retired him when he was two years old after just one race. Somehow, he ended up at a horse “rescue.” This “rescue” unfortunately fell upon hard times and funding. Renaissance Rescue Ranch ended up pulling seven starving horses from this “rescue.” Euro was one of them. Sadly, one of the horses that Renaissance rescued did not make it. The other six recovered and were placed up for adoption, including Euro.

I went to Renaissance on a chilly day in October 2014. Euro was the first horse I was shown since I was looking for a young, green horse as a project. Most of the other horses Renaissance had pulled from the neglect case had been placed already since they had more training. However, Euro was a very large and very green horse so he was harder to place. Of course, I fell in love with him and ended up taking him home with me in December 2015 for a 30 day trial. On January 1, 2015, I officially purchased Euro!

I’ve had Euro in training since April 2015. I gave him the winter off to settle into our farm and enjoy being a horse. Having had no one on his back in five years, Euro took to training so well. He has shown an immense amount of courage and trust in his rider and so much intelligence. We recently starting jumping him over small jumps under saddle. Enjoy the video, which demonstrates him free jumping 4′ and jumping 2′ under saddle. Music used is “Gravity” by The Vibrant Sound.

A Day in the Life

This video depicts a day in the life of the horses at Murphy Stables where I currently work. As you can see, they have lots of fun! The music used is “Best Day of My Life” by American Authors. All videos were filmed by me.

My “Selfie”

Hey guys! Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Caroline. I’m 25 (the above video LIES – I won’t be 26 until August 14th!) and living in St. Louis, MO with my boyfriend, dog, and two horses! I work at a stable teaching horseback riding lessons and training horses. I love my job! In my free time I love to read and write and play video games. Some video games I really enjoy are World of Warcraft, Elder Scrolls Online, and Heroes of the Storm. I am also really into photography and nature. I love animals and being outside! I am really looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you over the summer!