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11.12.2006

Trigger Finger

Well... it finally happened.
I pulled the trigger and fired
a bullet out of a gun.







Part of me has always been curious. Recently, my huzby started hunting, and this weekend he brought me along. But it all started years ago, when I lived in Oregon. Someone I worked with asked me if I'd be interested in buying a gun, for protection. I don't think I ever told anyone, but I said "yes." He brought it into work one day for me to see it and hold it. I'll never forget holding it. But I realized I didn't need it. It was a little extreme. When I first met my husband, he liked fishing. "I could never kill Bambi," he said. I could tell he meant it.

Three and a half years later, he attended a hunting club dinner with the guys he works with and out of 550 attendees he won the only prize that night. A rifle. He came home with it almost as shocked as I was. We suddenly shared a home with a gun.

We got satellite radio for Christmas last year, and we've been listening to Country music ever since. Huzby bought me a pink cowgirl hat from a bluegrass festival, and I actually reached a point when every kind of music except Country was irritating for me to listen to; I couldn't believe it. What's more, I have this persistent urge to play drums in a rockin' Country music band.

Last month I went to Texas for a business trip and came back to New York with genuine cowgirl boots. I'm talking tassels, folks. What's happening to me?

I remain completely disinterested in shooting animals. That's just not for me. Shooting a target and a flying clay disc, that's just it's very own kind of fun. I'm glad I did it. And there's an extremely good chance I'll do it again.

photo by: LL
:: posted by chumpsrock, 9:33 PM | link | 1 comments |


11.09.2006

Findings

I'm 31 years old now.
I've lived. I've dreamed.







Maybe things didn't turn out how I expected. Maybe I didn't know what to expect. Maybe I'm counting my blessings and maybe I'm wondering endlessly about scenarios that never were. Maybe I'm too young to be thinking so retrospectively, and maybe I'm trying desperately to justify saying 'goodbye' to the days I will never re-live.

A long time ago I made up my mind to never regret my life. Why? It's simple. At every given moment in time, every person is making the decision s/he feels is 'right' at the time. The drug addict chooses to snort it or shoot it or smoke it every time... just like the scholar chooses to study it or apply it or read it or write it every time. Is one better than the other? It's your life. You don't live it for anyone else... unless you choose to.

photo by: LL
:: posted by chumpsrock, 10:19 PM | link | 2 comments |