I was talking to Will on the phone last night and he was watching that show 30 Days on TV. I guess the episode was about gun control and there was one lady on there who was at a shooting range. She shot the gun and then immediately started crying, saying that “Every time I hear that sound, I think of someone getting killed.” She then proceeded to ask her husband if she had her holster on right (see: Blackhawk holsters for an example). She lifts her shirt so he can see and some girl working there looks over. The woman asks if the gun made her nervous and the girl said no and asked if she had ever worn one before…like it was an everyday thing.

Now, I grew up in the country where guns were a part of my life. My uncle loved guns and had quite the collection. I started using pellet guns when I was about 8 years old, shooting targets and tin cans in the back yard. As I got older, I moved up to a .22 and I think that’s about where I stopped. I admit…I loved the pellet guns. They were fun to me, and I was taught how to use them properly and safely.

At some point over the years, I have developed some weird feeling against guns, and I don’t know why. Dave wants a gun and I just can’t get over the idea of having a gun in our tiny apartment. (I don’t know what the size of our apartment has to do with anything.) I’m not anti-gun or anything. I know that they’re only as dangerous as the people behind the weapon. And yet? It still bothers me.

Will’s mom asked if I wanted to go to the shooting range with her and her daughter a while back. It probably wouldn’t hurt to get my CCW and possibly get a small handgun. I mean, we do live on the outskirts of Flint. It’s dangerous territory! I’m just confused as to where my feelings came from on not wanting a gun in the apartment. It really baffles me!