Well, I thought I'd have a more clear idea when I sat down to write this, but I guess that's not the case. I had (what I hope is) a once in a lifetime experience today - I shot a gun. For my birthday at the beginning of the year, 
And, well, life got in the way and we didn't get to go until today. It was quite a funny combo actually, since I went straight from teaching yoga in the park this morning. Judging from the huge, beefy men who came in after us, I could tell I wasn't the average customer they were expecting in my colorful overalls, with my pink yoga mat.
Still, one perseveres. I didn't know what to expect of it, frankly, though I did expect it to be quite fun. I thought there'd be more guns, so we could try them all, so when the guy informed us they'd be just two - a Beretta and a Glock - and we could switch, I was even a tad disappointed.
When he brought the guns (unloaded, of course), I gotta say I got a whole lot less excited, and quite nervous. I kept thinking - what if something happens? And yes, I know and am usually of a mind that to cure you of such thinking, you need to become prepared. But I admit I was nervous. Fumbling with my own bullets and the camera, I got distracted and forgot to put on the ear muffs in time, so that Fish's first shot still rings in the deepest corners of my soul to this hour.
There's a moment I love from an old Shinedown show where, telling a story of an attempted suicide, the singer screams "bang" loudly into the mic. "And then time...stood still."
Indeed.
It shocked me how awful it sounded. How mean and cruel and impersonal. How it could obliterate your hearing for the moment (and, ultimately, you). It's fair to say, even before I'd shot my first round, I was having a bit of a negative experience.
Normally, I try to perform reasonably well and enjoy the experience in such things. I wasn't too interested in hitting the mark, I just wanted to see how it felt. That's why we were there, after all.
One shot to know I didn't like it. At all. It felt too powerful. Which made me feel not powerful at all. I thought, at first, it felt hateful. But then, that would be an emotion. To me, it went beyond that. The act of shooting itself felt clinical. Destructive.
In unexpected ways, foul.
I thought I would enjoy it. The power. The freedom I suspected it might give. The feeling of safety. But it all just felt so cold, like something happening very far away from myself, despite being something I myself was causing. Destruction, even on a small scale, that I was responsible for. For nothing.
You can't put back the things you've broken.
Later on, in those seemingly endless rounds, I thought it might at least be some kind of tension release. Like a rage room, you know? And while I tried to channel any lingering tension and uncertainty into squeezing that trigger, it didn't seem to do much for me. Other, perhaps, than show me I do not want to destroy things on account of my own fear.
By the last round, I just wanted to be done. I didn't want to squander what I had been offered, but knew quite clearly I wanted the experience to end. Often, I've walked from novel experiences feeling meh, but never have I walked away from something new with such a clear feeling that I did not like that.
I didn't expect I'd like it so little, to be honest.
As everyone here knows, I'm quite conservative. Since it isn't a problem here, I never knew what to think about these gun debates in the US.
And sure, I see the argument that you need to be able to defend your own, yourself and your family. In an ideal world, you shouldn't. But we're never too far from the state becoming tyrannical, in which case, what do you do to keep yours safe?
I don't know if guns are the answer to that, though. For one, the state has much, much cooler guns. As for defending yourself against tresspassers and assailants, I'm not sure how it would work outside of proper, rigorous gun training. Loading the gun took so much time. And knowing where to look, how to hold the thing, all of the details required to shoot and at least significantly wound an assailant... I find it hard to imagine that if a rapist broke into my house and I did possess a gun, I would smoothly go through this process in the narrow time window I would actually have.
I must surmise they serve more as a preventive measure. Deterrence. A game of who blinks first.
In which case, is it really safe to have, if you're betting on not using it?
Would I feel the same if it was a trespasser coming to rape my child? I doubt it. I think I (and probably any person who professes to being anti-gun) would put a hole through that fucker quicker than they can blink. It's how we work.
But after shooting, all I could think about was, how do these people in the US live? To have these things as part of your day-to-day life, ubiquitous, in some places, to have people openly go around with them in the street...
I don't know.
I do see the hell America and Europe are spiraling into. We are living scary, unsafe times. It will not bode well for people too frightened to fight or defend what's theirs. I know all that.
At the same time, all I could think while shooting was, this is too much power. This kind of power should not be in the hands of ordinary men. We lost something when we put death into remote little metal bits traveling faster than the speed of light. Almost like death weighs nothing anymore.
And isn't that something we see in our society now, in abundance?
