Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen

My favorite female character in A Song of Ice and Fire has to be Daenerys Targaryen.  

I didn’t like her at first.  She irritated me when I started reading A Game of Thronesthe way she always deferred to her brother, how tremulous and frightened she seemed.

She was a sad character.  I thought her whole story was going to be about how terrible her life was -her marriage, her family, her exiled-royalty status.  Those things paired with Viserys mad obsession to reclaim the Iron Throne had me convinced Daenerys’ chapters would be unbearable.

But I quickly came to realize I was wrong.

She took to her new status as Khaleesi, gaining regality and confidence every day, and came to love her husband, Khal Drogo, deeply.  I started to like her more and more as the uncertainty and fear drained out of her like so much blood from a wound.

Daenerys took on a queenly manner, kind and devoted to her subjects yet commanding respect.  She won her people with strength, charisma, and eloquence.

She is revealed to be trilingual, fluent in the Common Tongue, High Valyrian, and proficient in Dothraki, and begins to reiterate, “I do not have a gentle heart.”

Daenerys comes to embody her House words, “Fire and Blood,” becoming Mother of Dragons and determined to her place as rightful queen of Westeros.

She is shown to have become both strategic and cunning, wrecking havoc in Astapor and gaining the undying loyalty of the Unsullied.

Yeah.  She’s pretty much a badass.

Thanksgiving Pie

Let’s be honest. The best thing about Thanksgiving is the food. Particularly, the traditional pumpkin and pecan pie. Personally, these are my two favorite kind of pies. So when Thanksgiving rolls around and I have an excuse to eat pumpkin and pecan pie everyday for a week straight, I’m pretty happy.

Pumpkin pie though can be tricky. The stuff you buy at the supermarket is terrible. You’ve got to go either with homemade pumpkin pie, or buy it from a bakery not situated next to the deli and cheese sections. This Thanksgiving I had the best pumpkin pie I’ve had, well, ever. It was made by a friend of ours, who runs a small local bakery in Boulder, Colorado. Her pumpkin pie was absolutely amazing. It practically melted in my mouth. The crust was perfectly flaky. And she topped it off by sprinkling streusel on top of it.

It was perfect.

Now to pecan pie. It’s so good. Perfectly sweet, with a little bit of crunch to it. My family has always made pecan pie for thanksgiving. We have a family recipe that never seems to fail. This year, my dad and I made four pies. I don’t know why we made that many, but we did. Unfortunately we burnt two. We ate one by ourselves, and I brought the fourth pecan pie back to school with me to share with my roommate.

Well as it turns out, my roommate doesn’t like pie. Of course, she’d never actually tried it before (we all do that). So last night I forced her to try the pecan pie I had brought back to school with me. Well it turned out she hadn’t even tried pie crust before, which she thought was pretty. Then she tried a bite of the actual pie.

The only thing she said for the next couple minutes was “Oh my God.”

And she kept eating.

That just proves my point that pecan pie is one of the best. And Thanksgiving is a pretty good excuse to make a lot of them.

Sweeeeeet

Speaking of desert, my favorite would definitely be a “macaron.”

A macaron is a French sweet meringue-based confection made with eggs, icing sugaralmond powder or ground almond, and food colouring. The macaron is commonly filled with ganache, buttercream or jam filling and sandwiched between two biscuits. The name is derived from the Italian word “macarone.”

Macarons are usually really small. It is mildly moist and easily melts in the mouth. There are numerous flavors and each has different colors. The traditional flavors are raspberry and chocolate to the new ones such as matcha, lemon, green tea and rose.The fillings also range from jams to ganache to buttercream.

Macarons are more and more popular these days. In Paris, the Ladurée chain of pastry shops has been known for its macarons for about 150 years, and even McDonalds sell macarons from McCafé. Outside of Europe, the French-style macaron can be found in all over the world, not only in U.S, but other nations like Australia, Korean, Japan.

I’ve not tried all the flavors of macarons yet, but my goal is to try all colors of them and then decide which one is my favorite, right now it’s rose.

But if you are not a “sweetness” lover, you probably will not enjoy macarons that much, because to be honest, they are really really really sweet!

Oh, btw (to my dear friend Emmy), they are not hamburgers!!

Big Day is Coming!

As the Thanksgiving break is coming, most of my friends are already planning on their “Back Friday” shopping schedule.

Black Friday is the Friday after Thanksgiving, and it’s one of the major shopping days of the year in the US.

The term “Black Friday” can be traced back in the 1960s. “Black” refers to stores moving from the “red” to the “black,” back when accounting records were kept by hand, and red ink indicated a loss, and black a profit. Ever since, the Friday after Thanksgiving has been known as the unofficial start to a holiday shopping season.

As the retailers began to realize that they could draw big crowds by discounting prices, Black Friday became the day to shop, even better than those last-minute of Christmas sales. On “Black Friday,” most retailers put their items up for a BIG sale on the morning of Thanksgiving, or inform their customers through emails days before the actual event.

On Black Friday, crowds of people will line up in front of the malls or stores waiting for the opening. Many retailers open up at 5 am or even earlier to hordes of people.

At the same time, those people who prefer to shop online also get the deals. Many online retailers also have pre-Black Friday or special Thanksgiving sales.

Anyways, get ready for the break and this BIG DAY!

Dots

I’m not really one to get addicted to games like Candy Crush, or Hay Day. I’ll play a phone game every once in a while when I’m bored, or not doing anything. But lately I’ve been playing this game called Dots every chance I get.

Dots is a game which gives you a square filled with different colored dots. The object of the game is to connect as many dots to their like color as you can in 60 seconds. It’s incredible difficult. And incredibly addicting.

It lists the high scores of the week, and some people are in the 800’s. I’m still stuck in the 300’s. My friends and I compete against each other, reveling when we have the highest score, and desperately trying to catch up when someone steals first place. I haven’t been first place in a while, but it’s still fun.

I’m glad I’m addicted to Dots and not Candy Crush though. At least with Dots I can kinda claim it’s a mind-stimulating game. Candy Crush just seems pointless. I mean all you’re doing is moving around candy.

So for all of you looking for a new game to be addicted to, or at least try out, I recommend Dots. It’s pretty fun.

 

The Dragon Queen

The daughter of Old Valyria

With eyes of purple flame

And starlight in her hair

Targaryen blood

The First, the last

She rides on onyx wings

Queen Across the Water

She covets the Iron Throne

Three dragons at her back

Stormborn, a child of smokey darkness

Born to lead in Light

Fire and Blood in her heart

A maiden, a mother, a widow

She loses all she loves

But lands, and riches, titles

They come,

Rush to meet her face

Bought and sold like cattle

She lives to free the slaves

Naive and young, she may be

But Queen to all she saves

 

Death by Bucking Horse

There was this one horse. His name was Houdini, and he was solid, pure black. I had always wanted to ride Houdini but I was always told that my skill levels weren’t high enough, or that he was too “green.” When I got to riding Layla and a pony called Dixie my mind wandered away from Houdini.

When sophomore year came around, I had first seen Houdini during my freshman year, I saw much less of Houdini, but occasionally I would still see him around. I wasn’t sure where he went at all, but I slightly remember someone telling me that he was either out in pasture or being trained by someone else.

This year, my junior year, he’s back, and I continued to ask to ride him. For two months I got continuous no’s but with promises of “wait until we ride him for a week,” or, “once you’re able to keep your back straight.” I kinda gave up hope by the second month, really.

Winter sports started, and the current horse I was riding was needed by another rider. I remember walking into the barn and then being jumped upon by an instructor. “I have exciting news for you!” she said. For some reason I had literally no idea what she would have said. “We’re gonna put you on Houdini!”

Internally I was jumping up and down like a little girl who had finally gotten a pony for her birthday, but on the outside I just took a couple breaths and said “wwwwwoooooooowwww oh thank gods yes finally…”

Houdini was still extremely green and didn’t seem to understand how large he was. He would swing his head around and try to cuddle (I think) me but would end up knocking me into a wall or the gate. I learned how to move quickly and duck away within the first few days.

We believe that Houdini is part Friesian – Royal Friesian Horse, that is. They look like cousins of Gypsy Horses, and they’re a stunning breed. The way they walk, trot, and gallop is extremely upright and almost stiff, like every step they take is deliberate. In my mind I called them the “soldier horse” because they were so methodical with their steps.

Houdini could hardly walk in a straight line. Seriously, I’d try to keep him on the rail and he’d end up either running into it or turning away from it. He actually ran me into a jump pole once, but he’s learning, I think.

A skill that all riders must know is how to lunge a horse. The gist of it is basically to chase a horse around a little round pen while giving them instructions such as “trot” or “canter.” Houdini would trot and canter for a few circles, buck in my direction a few times, then stop completely and simply stare at me.

What I didn’t understand was what he didn’t understand. He followed my instructions perfectly, to walk, to trot, to canter, yet he would always stop a few minutes in and stand square in front of me, unmoving. Even when I tapped him with our bright, neon-orange whip he would stare at me like “what are you doing I did not sign up for this.”

Oh, and he bucks. Like, a lot. If I keep the reins a little too long at the trot he lowers his head and starts bucking. Or that’s the official term, what Houdini does is more like pronking. Usually done by antelopes, pronking is when they leap up into the air with an arched back and stiff legs.

Yeah, that’s what Houdini does. In an hour he pronks about 4 times and I have yet to fall off. There was one pronk, this one was more like a rodeo buck, where I crash-landed on the saddle and hit my knee on something hard. That was two days ago and I still have a massive yellow bruise.


(Mien gott look at that mane)

I call Houdini my Butternut Squash.

Squash because he likes to squash me against the walls of the stall.

Butter because his coat gleams like melted butter.

And nut because he’s the nuttiest horse I may ever ride.

The Importance of Accuracy in Journalism

Accuracy is the most important factor in a piece. All stories should be double checked for facts, sources and quotes in order for them to be believable. Journalists strive for factual stories.

Here are some examples of some mistakes:

1- Misspelling a name

2- Fake or not credible sources

3- Fabrication of Quotes

4- Fabrication of stories

5- Wrong title for a person (Mr., Ms., Mrs.,  Etc.)

On another note, the biggest fruit company in the world, Apple Inc. has shipped millions of its new delicious fruits called Iphones. Its former CEO Stephen Joobs, who passed out from money poisoning has come down from heaven to retrieve some of this new  delicious treats.

My Princess

The first horse I rode in OVS was Urbino. He was an old horse, mainly brown, and very tall. I constantly struggled to put his bit on, as he would always lift his head up above the reach of my arms. I’m 5’2 now. I was probably 5’1 or 5’0 two years ago, so I asked to switch horses that would either work with me better or was a tad shorter.

I switched horses maybe one or two more times before settling for Layla. I believe she was at least part Gypsy, tall, sturdy, and one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Her coat and mane was black and white while her tail was pure black. She was a massive horse, and had not been ridden a lot, so she was quite stubborn and didn’t quite like having the bit put in.

To my great dismay she would also lift her head up above arms reach, and for a while I got my taller friends to help me bit her. Being that short and weak was unbelievably frustrating.

Layla was a complete Princess, for she knew how tall and beautiful she was. The way she walked, the way she swayed when she lifted her feet up, made it seem like she was dancing down a catwalk.

Slowly she began to respect me, and after a while she seemed to understand that I was short and that I needed a little help when brushing her mane and putting her bit on. On the days where she felt good she would lower her head for me and on the days she seemed more stubborn she’d ignore me and let me struggle on my tiptoes.

She was pretty darn lazy, plodding along with her feet picked up high. A whip helped, but I had to teach her that she had to walk at a relatively quick pace and not hang her head. She learned quickly and was probably my smoothest ride ever.

I rode Layla for about a year and then moved on to different horses, but I visit her every day to brush out her mane and maybe give her a mint or a handful of grains. When I leave the barn I always look back, and she’ll always watch me leave with an inquisitive look on her face.

I always wonder what horses do all day, but maybe horses wonder what humans do all day too.

Equestrianism is Not a Sport… Say Football Players

One of the debates currently coursing through the student body at OVS is between football players and equestrians. The football players seem to think that horse-back riding is not a sport.

First of all, I’d like to invite football players to a sit-up competition. The equestrians would win.

Everyone who has sat on a horse even once can recognize the talent, skill, and hard work it takes for a 97 pound person (me) to maneuver a 1,500 pound animal to move forward, sideways, backwards, to jump and gallop and stop, all without looking like you’re doing anything. Not to mention the 1,500 pound horse has a mind of its own, a mind which most often, relishes in doing the exact opposite of what you want him to.

Horse-back riding isn’t a sport? Yeah right.

Whenever I can bully my dad into giving me a piggy back ride, which has been less and less often as I’ve grown taller, he has to remind me over and over again not to squeeze his sides with my legs. That would be because after thirteen years of gripping the sides of a horse, my legs are pretty strong.

Last spring, I decided to take a break from riding. For some reason, I decided to do cross-country running as my fall sport. First of all, that was a terrible idea. Secondly, I realized that I’ve gotten off a horse sweatier than I’ve been after a four or five mile run in ninety degree weather.  My muscles have been far sorer after a challenging ride than they have been after a long run.

Horse-back riding makes you use muscles you didn’t even know you had. It makes you focus, and plan out every move of each finger, arm, leg, and foot because the tiniest movement from any part of your body could send your horse off running or bucking. The horse can sense your fear. It can sense which way you look. It knows what you’re going to do almost before you do – and it loves to do just the opposite of what you’re asking.

So to the football players who think horse-back riding isn’t a sport (cough cough my editor in chief cough cough), I invite you to come to the barn and ride for sports one day. Forewarning, you’ll have a hard time moving the next day.

Time Jump