The finest steel has to go through the hottest fire.

Never in my life would I have thought I would say "I like to shoot guns." However, I always had a nagging intrigue in what shooting one would be like. I consider myself a non-violent person, that being said, I had a hard time figuring out how shooting guns could be negotiated as non-violent.
  
If it feels so wrong, why do it?

My biggest fear of guns is that it puts me in the position to seriously injure or kill someone. My fear isn't so much of being hurt but to have to hurt someone else. A gun is a weapon I have long associated with intense pain, not just physically but the emotional pain people experience by losing loved ones to murder, manslaughter and war. Guns are also a symbol I associate with the politically conservative-minded who in my experience are more concerned with protection and intimidation than taking accountability for the power to take a life that comes with wielding a gun. Despite all this, there still lied a sheer curiosity in what the experience of shooting was like as well as the desire to master the use of an object that holds such power and to take responsibility for that power humanely and confidently. That left only one way to find out.

How will I actually do this?
 
One night while hanging out with my fellow rape crisis center advocate after our weekly training, our trainer talked about his affinity for shooting rounds off at the gun range. This seemed like a perfect opening to see what the experience would be like. He was more than happy to take a first timer and arrange my transportation. Before I knew it, I was on my way to the gun range.

So...what's it like?
 
When I first walked in I was a little shaky and sweaty. The bangs of the rounds being fired in the background freaked me out. I was given my "eyes and ears" (protective glasses and ear muffs) and led into the room of lanes where everyone was live firing. Now it was even weirder. Everything was muffled, I had to yell to ask a question. The smell of gun smoke was a little stifling at first and each gun shot made me flinch. I was terrified.

My trainer unpacked the gun gear and showed me the gun I would be starting on. It was a .22 caliber Berretta.  I was shown how to load the magazine,  pull the safety, proper grip, and aim.
The first time I gripped the gun I held it super tight in hopes my shaky hands would steady a little. My hand were damp and I felt afraid the gun would slip somehow. I picked it up unloaded just to feel it, get used the weight and feel of it in my hands.Then it was time to actually shoot it. I took what felt like an hour just holding the gun forward and aiming before actually letting go and pulling the trigger. I was told to "take deep breath and on the exhale, pull the trigger." I took a breath and let it out and shot. Once I did, I took a few more seconds and shot again. Then I needed a break. I was a little unsettled by the flying shells released by the gun and the small explosion happening right in front of my face.

After watching my trainer shoot off some rounds. I stepped back up for my second try. This time I shot till my magazine emptied. With some help,  I reloaded and shot some more. The more I shot, the more I was able to focus on readjusting my grip, stance and aim. I felt more and more present with what I was doing in the moment rather than all the things that could go wrong. A sense of exhilaration and enjoyment slowly washed over my anxiety.

Once the .22 felt comfortable, we moved on to a 9mm. This gun was a little heavier, harder to load and had more kickback. After shooting it once, I needed a break. The hot brass flew closer to my face and body and stung my feet a few times. However, after taking the time to get used to it, I started to appreciate the extra fire power. The more fire power the more effort and focus it took to keep the gun steady and adjust my aim with the kickback. I officially like shooting guns.





Why did I really do it?

On the surface, learning to use a firearm seems simply a way to toughen up or feel safer. Those are perfectly valid reason to learn to use a gun. Although, I felt there was something slightly different in my personal reasoning. In a sense I wanted to "toughen up", but not in the typical way of intimidation. I had, and still have, no intention of carrying a gun on my person or flashing it to scare someone away. I hold true to the rule "if you're going to pull out a gun, you better use it, and if you're going to use it, shoot to kill." Not to encourage people to kill each other, but by putting this grave a condition on gun use makes it real and makes the user think about how and when to use it. My purpose was to gain a sense of mastery and a sense of self control. The gun can fire bullets only when someone pulls the trigger. It is up to its wielder to choose. The empowerment is in the choice, not in the intimidation.

How is all this related to who I am in the world and what I think about it?

This experience not only related to my self confidence in general but to my experience as a woman. How I have been told not to express anger and to focus on making other people feel better rather than feeling better myself, and knowing I am not alone in feeling the weight of these social obligations. Its not that women don't have plenty of strength, physical or otherwise, its the conditioning of being told never to use it, especially not to protect ourselves because that is something a man will do for you. Specifically with a weapon like a gun that is a symbol of a man's masculinity and power.  The problem is, men are not protecting us all the time. They are often the people we need to protect ourselves against. This is not coming from an irrational man-hating feminist perspective. Its based on personal accounts, research and statistics.  Men sadly but honestly, make up the majority of perpetrators and criminals in general.

That does not mean women are not capable of crime, it does not mean every man I come in contact with is a potential enemy. It just means there is a dark reality of how society has not only allowed men to behave this way but enables and even encourages it. However, as many perpetrators are out there, there are men willing to stand to empower us. There are those willing to take responsibility for the power they have and use it to make us equals. It is not all hopeless, and, its also important to understand the system that binds us and segregates us in order to change it.

What do I really get out of it and where do I go from here?

Power and privilege dynamics aside, the physical sensation of shooting a gun felt oddly natural to me. It put me in a frame of mind to be more assertive and ask for what I need and want. The same week of my first shooting experience, I signed up for and Aikido class, asked for a due raise, and was more confident in my counseling skills at my rape crisis training class. Self defense isn't just about kicking ass, although it is about having the ability to kick ass. The ability is what makes me feel I am on equal ground as a person of larger stature than me, or has more societal or relational authority.  I have told a total of about 3 people that I've gone shooting. I didn't post it on Facebook, I didn't call or text everyone in my cell phone about it. I also didn't join the NRA or immediately buy my own pistol. Shooting was not just a whim, it was an investment.  I plan on continuing to shoot. The more I improve on my aim the more my confidence in my abilities in general increases. I have also learned more about self defense in general since I've started shooting than I ever knew before. The experience has offered me a sense of freedom to interact with different people and feel less tense walking around certain places at certain times. So far, a little personal freedom has gone a long way.

I'm so heavy in your arms

Sooooo I have to get a wisdom tooth removed. Yay. Hopefully this can just be over and done with tomorrow but who knows how bad the situation is until the dentist says so. Boring, I know. However, every time something happens to make me upset or scared I start to think about the type of person I am being. This may sound odd, but I guess its a karma thing. I don't think just because bad or good things happen we entirely deserve them, but I do think they happen to give you the opportunity to reflect. For example, lots of people have to have their wisdom teeth taken care of. Its annoying, painful, and frightening, but, it doesn't mean because its occurring , its due to some wrong I have done. It does however, serve as a little wake up call to say "hey, have you been compassionate enough to other people who may be experiencing pain too?"

I get frustrated at work a lot. People seem stupid, lazy, and straight up rude. I still try to see things from their point of view. I make the attempt to at least listen before I dismiss people.Some people just need to vent. I get it. Just don't use me as your emotional toilet. That being said, it seems really hard sometimes to maintain goodheartedness. People have said to me,on more than one occasion, "You're already a good person, that won't change. So don't worry so much about it." Which I think is an odd thing to say. Really? Then why are so many people ruined by greed or power? I may sound insane for saying this but even people like Hitler and Saddam Hussein were still human (barely), but I'm sure someone in the world cared enough about them to be concerned if they lived or died, there must have been some, albeit microscopic, part of them that was good. There are forces in this world that change people. Even everyday things that seep in slowly, like materialism, selfishness, or the worst of them...apathy. So I ask honestly, is it really so easy to just "be a good person"? What the hell is "good" anyway? Giving $20 to a few charities during the holidays? A dollar to a bum? Holding the door for someone incapacitated? These are nice things. Thank you. They are also things you just should  be doing any time you are capable of doing them. Without question.

I also find it interesting that positions requiring people to heal, assist, listen, advocate, teach, and rehabilitate is called "heavyhearted" work. These are all positions that, in my opinion, are held by people who are trying to "do good". The idea of being a good person is constantly in their view, and they have chosen a profession or role to constantly remind them to be a good person. Sadly, a lot of weight comes with this. Hence the "heavy" part of "heavyhearted". The weight isn't just from carrying the burdens and struggles of the people these workers are surrounded by and are attempting to help, its also the personal burden of feeling that society may not always be on your side. It the weight that everyone else's apathy has caused by not pulling their own. The sad part is, even these people with their amazingly pure intentions can be tainted. They are tainted by resentment, because everyone else can feel free from responsibility while they take it on.

Can you imagine how hard it must be to keep true friends? To find a lasting partner? Especially a partner. Who wants someone who will only stick around as long as its convenient for them? I see myself as sort of a ship. I haven't had a hard time finding passengers. They enjoy the ride well enough, but for the most part, they leave once the seas get rough. I don't want anymore passengers. I want a captain. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying I want someone to control me and direct where I should go at their discretion. I view the captain as having a special relationship with the ship. He (or she for anyone else) must work with the ship and how it handles the waves and weather, and in return the ship provides not only shelter and protection but acts as a great vessel to take the captain on an incredible journey. And most of all, no matter what, the captain goes down with the ship. A deal's a deal.
That's the relationship I want, as I am sure many others do.

The title comes from a Florence and the Machine song "I'm so heavy". I heard the song a few weeks ago while watching a woman dance to it on a ceiling ribbon, Cirque du Soleil style. My favorite lyric is " I was a heavy heart to carry/But he never let me down/When he had me in his arms/My feet never touched the ground."I don't entirely know what this lyric was intending to say, but the best songs are open to interpretation and this one hit home for me. The aching desire to have someone, even just friends, to not only be aware the weight we carry in our hearts, for whatever reason, but to be willing to carry us through rough times, as we would do for them. Its a type of caring that is rare. A type of love that is rare. Just remember, there are people out their who do this even for those they barely know. Merely to better the human race. To preserve not only goodness, but hope. At the expense of becoming heavy themselves, but still maintaining the hope that someone else was inspired by their actions enough to recreate them. I have always wondered if a person must sacrifice intimacy to gain freedom. Perhaps a little. But maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe connecting with people through service to them isn't as burdensome and stressful as I have thought. Maybe these are the freest people in the world, because they have front row seats to watch progress and beauty happen. Maybe. I can only hope.

Free speech and other rights only offered to the privileged and powerful.

I must have a bajillion other things I could post about but this particular issue chaps my ass. Why, why oh motherfucking why is it such a big motherfucking deal for a woman to curse?

I understand vulgar and graphic language is not for everyone but why is it in soooo many cases, at least in my experience so far, is there such a fuss over a woman using this language, while the reaction to a man's use of it is a disapproving head shake or merely ignored? Oh the wealth I would have inherited if I had a dollar for every time some one thought I should speak more like a "lady" or "broaden my vocabulary". Well fuck yourself. Seriously. I am educated, well read, killer at crossword puzzles and scrabble, and not to mention, just plain intelligent.

I am a strong believer in not just free speech, but free expression. Free speech allows you to say what you want with whatever words you want. Free expression allows you to say it how you want. The latter, I believe, is key to personal freedom. If you must hide your feeling behind appropriate language, your propriety will suffocate your liberty. So then what's the point? Sure we have laws allowing men and women to say what they want, along with other equal "legal" rights. However, the gap between the law and how the law is applied, is vast. Sure we are legally protected, but are we socially? Will the privileged and powerful give enough slack for the rest of us to actually feel equal or will they cling to "if you give an inch they'll take a mile"? Will the rest of the non-privileged fight hard enough and loud enough to gain any ground? Who fucking knows? All we can do is try.

I can say this, it does get pretty exhausting defending yourself constantly. Not just defending your choices, but defending you, your self, your essence. Even when it is your choices, isn't that why people live and move to this country, isn't that what people want most in their lives? Freedom? Well freedom isn't swimming against a heavy current every day of your life. It isn't being judged, ridiculed, corrected, controlled, or blamed. Unfortunately, that's what people do to each other, all the time. Its what we teach our kids to do, its what our parents did to us,along with teachers,politicians, law-makers, media, even our friends and spouses have done our whole lives. Doubt and insecurity haunt us and follow us like our shadows, and we wonder why?We get coached, trained, baptized, and advised on how to improve but rarely do we follow our issues to their core and roots.

We walk around so often with broken hearts and spirits. Some of us from past traumas like abuse or illness, some of us from a status of incessant invisibility, from situation after situation of receiving judgment rather than compassion. It can get pretty fucking lonely when everyone knows how you should deal with things, but no one understands how you feel about them.

Well if I may take a stab at advice, mine would be, just to do you. Take whatever courage you can muster and say what you want to say, do what you want to do. Just keep in mind all the broken souls of the world that may feel the same way and may want the same acknowledgment and validation you do. Don't flatten yourself to fit in the boxes made for you. The only box you should ever fit in is your coffin. When you're dead. And if its possible, when you see someone brave enough to be themself, tell them. Look at them and tell them you admire them. We can all drive down the road to see how far it goes, we just need a little fuel sometimes.

Home isn't where you live, its where they understand you.

Why does it hurt to be the person you would respect and admire if you befriended yourself? Today is Thanksgiving. The day we essentially celebrate genocide and pretend we care about the things we're thankful for. Some people actually are thankful, some people just say they do to fit in, and some people just eat and take a nap. I thought it would be cool if I volunteered to take a meal to an elderly person who would otherwise be alone for the holidays. Unfortunately it was not mentioned that there is a chance your elder will not be home. Ummm...ok... then what's the point?

It didn't occur to me that an actual appointment would make more sense for someone without a car (me), so I wouldn't go out of my way to spend time with someone who isn't there, and so someone doesn't have to feel obligated to wait around all day for me to show up. So I went through 6 bus rides to find the facility, get lost, pick up the food, stop back home and find this old woman's house, just to find out the octogenarian had decided to step out. It's ok. I understand she may have forgotten, or decided to make other plans and forgot to tell the organization, or maybe she wasn't sure when I was coming and got tired of staying at home. I don't blame her. I think the part that hurt was that I didn't get to experience the rewarding part on my end. Sure, I thought the idea of keeping a senior citizen company who may have been forgotten about or cast aside, a feeling I am familiar with, would be a kind, compassionate thing to do. However, not having anyone to share the holidays with myself I would also be able to simultaneously be in good company as well. No such luck.

I felt terrible. Not because it was the end of the world, or because not celebrating a holiday like everyone else is so shameful. It was a just a reminder of what I just don't have. I don't have connection. I have freedom, I have tenacity, I have courage, and I have compassion. I just don't have connection. I don't have intimacy, I don't have trust,and I don't have a home. I have a house, shelter and money but not a home. A home can be a place, a person, even a feeling, but I am homeless.

On my way home from dropping the meal off along with a note, I fought back tears. It felt like the story of my life:  my good intentions were not strong enough to get me where or what I wanted, and once again I was stood up. Despite this woman's un-intentions, I felt rejected. As I made my way from the bus stop to my current residence, ironically, I came across this sign at the crosswalk.

 It's strategic placement at a crosswalk, right between "Start crossing" and "Don't cross" was no mistake in my mind. I took a quick picture of it and the tears pushed their way through my stoic barrier. I just didn't want to be disappointed anymore. I didn't want to feel sorry for myself either.  I just wanted, still want, results.
I want people to be honest with me. I want to be noticed. I want people that I want to want me back. I want to be respected at work. I want people to fucking call me when I give them my number and follow through with plans.I want to have opportunities to be openly artistic without feeling like a goddamn weirdo for doing so. I want the guy I'm attracted to, to fucking ask me out , even if it means breaking some rules. Just give me a chance.Its not that often that I find someone that impresses me.Please.
Just give it to me universe. I deserve it. I work hard for it.

I just want to shine. Truly. Then I will be home.

How much of human life is lost in waiting.

I often wonder if I am the only person who feels like my life is in perpetual transition. It never feels like real life. Its just purgatory life. Waiting for the next level, the next step, in process, still loading.

When I was in High School this feeling was exciting. My life was in waiting but it was about to embark on the most fabulous journey of self discovery and expression and I had nothing to lose but time. Then college rolled around and ended up not really being what I though it would be. All the insecurities, fears and all around disappointments with the world manifested in such a horrifically overwhelming tornado I almost wish I could forget most of it.

The odd thing is, nothing happened in my life thus far that would sound truly integral to my current disillusion with life. Just a series of small disappointments that skew the entire path of your life further and further away from optimism. The only thing you have left is hope. Hope that whatever fire in you still exists enough to pull you back on track.

Rebel With A Cause?

I am genuinely curious. Somehow this form of bonding and socializing has escaped me. What is the fascination of consuming copious amounts of drugs, alcohol and tobacco that seems to appeal to the masses? I can understand the desire to be in an altered state for a short period of time as a parentheses to an otherwise dreary, stressful world. I also understand people enjoy using certain substances to relax or provide them with some courage. I really do understand this under some circumstances but in all honesty I ask, whats the big fucking deal? Why is this the main choice of fun? Why is this cool?

My biggest point of frustration is with the notion that somehow all of this drinking, getting stoned and smoking is somehow a way of sticking it to the man or emitting the aura of being a bad ass. The outlaws are the drinkers and smokers, the social rejects and anarchists are stoners. Sure I am generalizing here, but there seems to be an entire culture of people from high school to middle age that enjoy some kind of substance.Mind altering substances,illegal substances, may cause birth defects substances, makes you fuck strangers substances and puts holes in your brain substances. I call it "substance culture". The age of enlightingup.

Drinking and smoking are some of the most overused symbols of rebellion. Stereotypes of rock stars include leather, a sneer, and a cigarette or drink, usually both. Nearly every cool character in pop-cuture presented as an outcast does some kind of drug as an act of not caring about their health, the law, or propriety in order to counter the image of the "normal adjusted people" who are square and don't do drugs and sit around reading scripture, listening to Taylor Swift. Because obviously if you don't drink or do drugs you must also be a virgin, play by all the rules, act politely and be a complete conformist. Its not like buying tobacco and alcohol products from the largest money making corporations in the country that also coincidentally give you some of the most awful medical problems that coincidentally cause you to spend more of your money on medical and pharmaceutical services and products which, once again, coincidentally are offered by the other largest money makeing coporations in the country, makes you a mere statistic and complete tool of the system.
But I'm just sayin...
Some may refer to people like me as a prude or "straight-edge". Don't be mistaken. Just because my edge is straight doesn't mean its dull. I am not claiming to give a middle finger to the man while making him rich by drinking his beer and smoking his tobacco. And just for the record, weed may relax you but it doesn't open your mind, it erases it.
Maybe I'm envious.Maybe its because 90 percent of my friends can enjoy subtances socially while I am excluded. Or because so many brilliant but likely somehow lost people I look up to advocate drug use as a means of loosening up and letting go or even as means to tap into a creative flow. Maybe I just wish, more than fucking anything, that a stiff drink or a bong hit would do the trick and erase my pain for a few hours. But they don't. Things get even worse, I feel so out of control, so over paranoid, overwhelmed and out of touch its not worth it to even try anymore. Then again, perhaps the painful lack of an escape substance has allowed me the notice the hypocrisy in the substance culture that everyone else seems oblivious to.
Such a sadly ironic phrase "substance culture", we are full of everything but, substance.

Watch me unravel I'll soon be naked

Lately I feel...insane. Or at least on the brink of it. Not in a psychotic, dangerous to others way, but in a violation of societal norms acting with no sense kind of way.I have been wanting to "go insane" for a long time. I am feeling the time is a comin soon.

Perhaps its a weird combination of the movies and books I've been reading. I have clogged my Blockbuster queue with horror movies and old black and white films. On top of that I have been filling my brain with David Sedaris and a random Amazon.com "You also might like" book about a twenty-something anarchist guy from Queens (how did they know?). I think what's really fueling it is my initial drive to get away from what I know. I know how to be quiet, I know how to be polite (forcing it of course), I know how to be a good student and a good employee, I know how to be "normal"...I think. This has not yielded significant results in my esteem, perhaps in others', but not in mine.

I do not want to be quiet, I do not want to be courteous (unless it is earned and deserved), I don't want to smile when I'm not happy or bullshit people just so they will like me. I intensely desire to just not give a fuck. Not abandon my compassion and empathy, but to not care if I am dressed appropriately for some stupid occassion, or apologize for speaking my mind, or concern myself with disappointing someone else's idea of normality. Yes I am single, I'm not a huge fan of children (unless its one at a time,they exahust me), I don't drink, smoke or do drugs (quite honestly that act of rebellion is played out and boring in my opinion, the sixties are over, drugs do not equal revolution, I will share my thoughts on that another time) and I don't like happy, sappy stories.

Life is pain and all that comes with it. Love is painful, family is painful, knowledge is painful, but if you're paying attention, there's beauty in pain too. People don't learn their biggest lessons when they are succeeding, when they feel happy and on top, they've already learned the lessons they needed to, that's how they got there. When you're miserable, drenched in tears and snotty tissues, screaming your brains out, throwing shit against the wall and probably other things that seem... well insane, is when things shift. So I guess what I really want to know is why are people so afraid of being in this state? I can understand not wanting to be in pain on a constant basis but we are so quick to get happy again? Why not just sit with it for a while, if possible,even relish in it. Maybe everyone needs to unravel a little sometimes. Be grateful, I am not saying that is a bad thing, but every time you feel the need for a little emotional outburst, fuck optimism, fuck positive thinking, fuck the secret, fuck propriety. Have it. Savor it. Enjoy it.