Actually it's not. Not for me anyways. After I made a yummy dinner with an even yummier cheese plate while watching "Survivor" (it can't get any better than this right?), ds and I headed down to the LA Gun Club to shoot some guns. Never having done any sort of thing like this ever, the excitement that had been building up for this night was replaced with apprehension and fear when I arrived. I mean it was real, empty shells were littered everywhere on the floor, the gravity of the gun, the ferocity of the recoil, and the noise, that noise was deafening. My heart could barely take it. I was traumatized.
My idealized notion that I would be good at this was completely shattered by the fact that I was too rattled by my surroundings, just holding the gun was almost too much. ds said I was too hard on myself, and I think he was somewhat right because afterwards, as we drove away from that soulless climate, I thought I would perhaps give this a go again. The shock was wearing off and that next time, I would be more focused and have more control. Maybe I just need to be really pissed off at someone. At least I know that I made the right choice by not joining LA's finest...
Bang, bang, shoot shoot. A total pro, ds had no problem. 
A total novice, still trying to figure it out, totally shaking... But the smell of the gunpowder was attractive, like bonfire nights as a beach kid.
