Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Shooting Zombies Pays Off

I bought a gun. My Chris and I were speaking about games; I said I thought I'd be a great shot, because of all the video games I've played. He said that was ridiculous, so I bought a gun. My brother-in-law, a firearms instructor, took my Chris and I to a shooting range and instructed me (Chris already knows how to shoot) on how to shoot properly. Even on my first shot, which spooked me, (because man, guns are loud!) I never missed the target sheet. The first shot, which I had aimed for the center of the gut ended up going straight through the heart, heh.

After he taught me to aim, he took me to the metal targets. Basically, they're set up like those carnival games. You shoot and if you hit it, the metal target pings and falls down. So when I got up there, it was like "ping, ping, ping, ping". One right after another.

Growing up, I had never been exposed to guns before... Well, once. There was this one time where my grandfather had left his gun hidden in a low cabinet and my baby cousin found it. I couldn't figure out what she was playing with and threw a fit that she wouldn't share. So I told on her, only to have my mother and grandmother go into hysterics. Luckily, the gun was taken away and my cousin was fine. My grandfather on the other hand had a good long hour of screaming women to contend with. Had I not found her in time though... That's a scary thought. Anyway, my mother is deathly afraid of the things. I, myself, have always had a disdain for guns. Anyone can pick up a gun and shoot. It's not that respectable of a weapon. But after having shot mine, I think I've found a new respect for them. It's not as easy as it looks. And the kickback on the nine millimeters is nothing to trifle with. My gun is a .22 caliber. I think it's just a tiny bit better than a BBgun.

So then I shot a shotgun. Holy hell, I never want to do that again. I wouldn't shoot it from my shoulder, too afraid it would hurt, so I shot it from my hip. That is some major kickback. I don't understand people who shoot the shotguns for fun. That's just way too much work. I prefer my little gun. And maybe partly because of my grandfather, I keep it triple locked. Heh.

I firmly believe that if the police want to get good shots, they should start recruiting in arcades. I'm just saying.

Monday, November 23, 2009

I am sitting here with the cursor blinking at me, wondering what I could possibly write, how I could possibly get words on the screen like I have done countless times in the past four months. And I want to, I want to so much write and shout it out from the rooftops about injustice. But I won't, maybe someday I'll get the chance, but for right now, I'll let myself be silenced by others, because I have no other choice.

And I know that sounds all mysterious and ominous, but I guess I just need to vent a little without revealing what I'm venting. Maybe I should just write fluffy feel-good crap about how great life is, but right now I'm a bit too cynical and jaded to care. Well, except for when it comes to my Chris and my Kade. I can endure just about anything for them. They're my fluffy feel-good crap. Heh.

I guess all this rambling boils down to: I just want to say, I'm not dead, just very quiet at the moment.