Bang

I shot a gun for the first time. 

I've always been terrified of guns. The fear is guns is reasonable. Smart, even. Especially growing up and living in the USA. God bless America. 

But, like many fears, I think mine has been intensified by the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about them. 

For anyone who hasn't been subjected to my complaining, for years and years I've been having nightmares and stress dreams nightly that I remember when I wake up. There's been an uptick lately of ones about gun violence. So I thought maybe I should try to do something about it.

I looked up gun safety courses and found that there is a gun store and range five minutes from my house (God bless America) that was offering a beginner's workshop for women for thirty bucks. 

(Look, I've only been on testosterone for less than two months and all it's done so far is give me acne. I'll take what I can while I can. I did my time.)

We learned a bit about different guns and how they work, and focused on how to hold and shoot a pistol during a short classroom portion before we were released to practice shooting on the range.

I felt so nauseous aiming at the target with the first bullet loaded in the barrel. 

I thought I was going to panic after the first shot and leave. I told myself that was fine, but I had to shoot once, even though I really wanted to unload the gun and just walk out then.

And then I pulled the trigger and didn't instantly burst into flames with the end of the world. I stayed and shot the whole box of ammo I was given, thanked the instructors, and drove the five minutes home.

I kept the first shell casing. I'll find it somewhere in a few months and throw it out, probably. But it means something for now.

Knowing a bit more about guns and how to handle them will not change the fact that if someone wants to and has the means to shoot me or someone I love, they will. But if I'm ever in the same situation again I was a few years back trying to find an ingredient in my dad's kitchen while cooking for Thanksgiving and opening up an overhead cabinet and seeing one of his handguns next to his peanut butter, I think I'd feel confident enough to move it myself instead of just closing the door and asking someone else to deal with it.

(He most definitely put it there while sleepwalking. How that man is still alive, I could not tell you.)

 

 

Barn Cats

Ian, Chino, and I had our last weaving class. I'd missed a couple sessions and was anxiously sweating flying through the process trying to catch up. We need to finish up the ends and soak and dry them, which we'll do before our DND session on Saturday. 

I like how our pieces turned out. They're just long strips of testing things out, something of a table runner or uncomfortable scarf. My project from my first time taking the class has been sitting on top of my bookshelf since I finished it, and I imagine this one will probably join it.

We picked up dinner from Culver's. Ian watched Chino and I make a new multiplayer save in Stardew Valley and play through the first week or so. 

I forgot there's a character in the game named Robin, so I named my avatar Robin2 as a catchy, clever distinction. 

We had to abandon our last save because the game glitched and our cat vanished, and we weren't too keen on playing on without a little friend.

Speaking of cats, I saw a young one near the on ramp to the freeway on my drive home from Ian and Chino's apartment. I took the first exit off the freeway to double back and look for it for a while, but there was no sign of it by then. I hope it scampered off to somewhere warm and safe.

I called both Ian and Chino, and left a voicemail for Chino of me yelling about my personal cat crisis since I couldn't subject them to it in real time. Chino has gotten a lot of voice messages of me yelling. Ian doesn't check his voicemail, so you might as well scream into the void if you need to reach him.

It was a good night, cat woes aside.