Rifle

(A couple weekends ago, I was again in Raton for a rifle competition. Here are some thoughts I scribbled in my pre-match downtime...)

I've been looking forward to this for a while. In fact, I've been looking forward to this almost all winter. Last fall, I showed up bringing "the best I got". I had fun and I learned a lot even though I was outclassed. I originally intended to make minor changes to my setup, but ended up building up a whole new rifle over the winter. New rifle, new scope, new everything.

I'm nervous this weekend. Now is the time where I get to see if I've chosen right and if I'm up to the task that I've set for myself. All my work will come down to the next 60 shots. Hits or misses, my score will tell.

My friends and squadmates have sleek color-matched setups from premier manufacturers, priced into the thousands of dollars. Matte black high-dollar optics set above precision barrels that see nothing but ammunition handloaded with the utmost care. Most of the people I shoot with have installed suppressors to reduce recoil and environmental impact. (Perfectly legal, by the way, just expensive and lots of paperwork)

In contrast, my rifle looks slightly bargain-basement [original note says "herp derp"]. Flat dark earth scope over blued metal with a woodgrain stock, it's not very mall-ninja or high-speed low-drag. The pipe insulation and blue masking tape over the stock comb don't help its appearance either. Appearances are deceiving, though, as it'll shoot like a hammer if I can do my part. After pulling into the Whittington Center and retrieving it from my trunk, I made a first-round hit at 330 yards, struggled a bit on the next set of targets at 385 yards, then was back to a first-round hit at 540 yards. Yeah, five football fields away. I even took a few shots at the "challenge target", a 6-ft x 10-ft steel buffalo at 1123 yards (5/8ths of a mile), hitting with 3 of my 5 shots.

When I look at my rifle, it reminds me of the journey to assemble it and the people who have helped me arrive here. From my friend at the last shoot who was selling the rifle (and the other friend who found out and referred me) to the patient person on an online forum who shipped me the scope cross-country. Then there are the friends who went on shopping trips for obscure parts and provided calibrated "mechanic fingers" to help estimate mounting torques. I think of my friend Dave who has provided long-distance advice for all my stupid questions during the build. I think of my friend Jon, who helped me with real-world ammunition loading advice and provided guest passes to a sweet range. All these people have had a part, small or large.

In the end, though, it all comes down to me - the buck stops on my desk. I'm the one who has to know how to drive the rifle. I'm the one who has to make all the pieces work together and in the right direction.

My rifle reminds me of my life.

I look at my life, and it's a little jumbled and mismatched, just like my rifle. Not all the colors match and my life might not be someone else's idea of perfect. You know, I don't really think it's even my idea of "perfect" or that I've taken the best road possible to get where I am. It's not "top-tier"; it doesn't contain anything that would make people ooh and ahh. Accuracy International rifles and Schmidt & Bender or USO optics generally invite admiration. Remington and Leupold, not as much.

But it's my life and my present day that I can use to choose whatever future I wish. If "driven" or led correctly, God will be able to use my life to do amazing things.

Just like my rifle reminds me of the people along its journey, I can see the people who have helped me out in my life, large and small. Small groupies, pastors, just plain good friends, all have left their mark on my life. Everyone has changed my life - some tweaking it just a little, others making major bends, either for good or otherwise. My rifle build took all winter, but my life has taken twenty-whatever years to get to this point.

My life is also like my rifle - untested. All the pieces set up, but with unknown potential. My life could be super cool and perform beyond my expectations, but it might also be a complete dud. Which, I don't rightly know yet, and the only way to find out will be to go out and test it in front of people. Test it in public, "in production", where the successes are real and the failures are too.

I think I'm more nervous about the rifle, honestly.

As I was writing, one small sentence threatened to derail my whole thought process. Second-to-last sentence, first paragraph - "I originally intended to make minor changes to my setup, but ended up building up a whole new rifle over the winter." (Yeah, go look again for context) Let's underline some important words from that sentence: originally intended, minor changes, ended up, whole new.

Gee, that's my life in a nutshell. "Originally intended minor changes, ended up [with] something whole new." The resurgence in my writing was one consequence of a breakup. I guess I figured (at a high level) that I'd smooth out the disrupted parts then continue my life as usual. Instead, the past year has been a steady slog with God, dealing with all kinds of rubbish from the past and learning about who He is, who I am, and who I've been created to be.

I'm OK with that, though it's not what I planned on. My life is like my rifle - I have just enough confidence to believe it'll work as intended. We'll see how both go.

[Afterword: The rifle shot fine. Of 60 targets, I hit 28. This was substantially more than my goal (20 hits) and far better than last year's score (seven). Guess I didn't have as much to worry about as I thought. Infer your own life lesson.]

California

(Part 1 of a 2-part series)

Earlier this year, I journeyed to Los Angeles for a concert. Not being one to pass up the chance to broaden my horizons and seek new adventure, I took the opportunity to make it a three-day weekend. Overall, it was interesting. I went in with goals and tentative plans, but also an open mind and a flexible attitude to see what would work out.

I took some notes during my trip to collate and share. As such, I apologize in advance for the shifting verb tenses to follow. I've cut extensively from my journal entries and didn't feel like rephrasing everything into past tense.

LA is surreal. It's hard to believe that I'm here. There are all kinds of things that I've heard of or read about, but I get to see them with my own two eyes. Hollywood Boulevard? Drove on it. Heck, I walked on it. All the stars with random people's names? Seen 'em. Took a snapshot of a few - who'da thought Kermit the Frog would get his own star?

The movies always contain the Hollywood sign, but it's weird to look up from driving or walking, see the letters on the side of the mountain, and realize that they're "real".

Southern California has its own level of surreal that I always forget until I arrive. The idea of "winter" being 60-70 degrees is a foreign concept to me. (Walking around in Jan/Feb with no jacket confuses the natives, which is great) What always gets me, though, is how the streets are lined with palm trees. Freakin' palm trees. It's just weird.

LA is a big city, and I was on my own most of the time. The country kid could have been intimidated, but after pondering, there's really not much to be intimidated of. This city is OK. It's just a city. Unlike the invective my traveling companion poured on it, it's not a malignant cesspool piped straight to the mouth of Hell. Just a city. A big one, but other than that, it's just like any other city.

Everyone talks up LA traffic. I was on the surface streets, has to be better than the freeways, but it's not actually too bad. Everyone drives super aggressively, but I'm in a little car, so I can keep up. Yellow lights mean "three more cars can go now," and green lights mean "watch for remaining oncoming traffic, then pedestrians, then go." I can deal with that. All the important streets have turn arrows and most streets are wide enough for a U-turn if I need one. (The compact car was my salvation all trip) See somewhere you want to go? No cars there already? Then put your car there and everyone else will figure it out.

Then there's the "did I really just see that?" moments. As I'm driving with the windows down, I smell a funny smell. That sweet burning smell. For a minute, I dismiss it, but I remember that I'm not at a concert (the normal context for that smell). Pot? In traffic? Apparently. Then I notice the guy ahead of me flick ashes out of his window and the smell goes away. Only in California...

So many people. People everywhere. So many cars on the road. There are lines at many places; albeit usually short. I see all kinds of people. I didn't even know people came in some of the sizes and shapes I saw. It was a little cool to see all different people - it reminds me that Colorado gets a little stratified sometimes. So many people here. Some "California stereotypes", but that comes with the territory.

I understand why California is the way it is now. Why are they so environment minded? Because there are so many people and anything else would blight the earth. Why is there so much crime? It is partly just because there are more people here. As I explained to my little sister the other day about traffic accidents, it's just a matter of numbers. The more miles you drive, the sooner you'll get to your small chance of an accident. I saw things as a flight instructor that I never saw as a student, just because my exposure was higher. Smush more people together, and you've added a proportionate amount of bad people plus the synergistic factor of proximity.

It's a city that's easy to live in. The weather is mild and there are no great environmental challenges. Everything here is built around that lack. The theme park has a "rain" rule - if there's more than 1/8" of rain, they shut down and refund everyone's money. In Denver, we'd wait 10 minutes and keep right on rolling. Weird. I think this contributes to a lazy subculture. One doesn't need to work hard to survive, so it'd be natural to move to "doesn't need to work hard for anything". Citizens are handed a livable environment making the idea of being handed a living doesn't seem too far of a stretch.

This is the town of "more." Why are they so liberal? Because they seek to be the new thing; the forefront of the country. They see "new" as a break with tradition - as far away from traditional values as possible. This is the town that wants to be known for its fashion, its music, and its pretty much everything. They want to be the new, the popular. So they have to have new values. They have to be the new "edgy". This is the only town I've seen where the human-interest articles include bragging about the person's appearance and their clothes. That's unusual. It's a city of "look what someone else has" - but you can have it too or at least pretend that you do. All it takes is money.

Enough observations; enough gazing. "If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." What does the city reflect in me? Honestly, it normalizes me. It marginalized my friend because he felt out of place and rejected, whereas I felt that the "diversity" (what an overused word) just emphasized the parts of my life I'd chosen to be different.

For example, I've been intentionally working on my situational awareness for the last year. Situational awareness is being aware of yourself, your position, and everything around you. In situations where people are preyed upon, SA is to see what's coming before it gets to you. Psychological theory says that predators go for the unaware; they "come out of nowhere". The counter is to see the predator before he heads for you. The metaphorical implications of being aware are deep but irrelevant to this story.

I feel reasonably competent in Denver, although never like I'm as aware as I should be. I often feel like there's something else I should be watching. In California, though, most people are completely zoned out. I saw many pairs of iPod earbuds with people walking down the street. Like hiking in bear country where you don't have to outrun the bear per se, my situational awareness doesn't have to be perfect, just above average. In LA, the "average" was both low and statistically significant (I.E., lots of samples). I feel much more confident in my habits now.

Another example is how everyone in Colorado is super-outdoorsy and athletic. Sometimes I feel like a slacker because I work out only occasionally. Los Angeles? Pish-posh, I'm probably 60th percentile or better.

After a while, I concluded that, if forced to, I could carve out my own niche here. Eventually, I could find a comfortable life in this large, strange city. Cool things to see, fun things to do; it'd be all right.

Yet somehow, in the crowds of people, God left me subtle reminders of the reasons I have to come home. A face here, a profile there. A figure, a mannerism that reminds me of people I know, and I heard God say "How far is it that you trust me? When you have 'appealing options', is my plan still worth waiting for? Will you trust me even with something that's on the far side of possible? Something that I don't assure?" Of course, I will, God. Thanks for asking.

I was able to see the interesting things I had planned for, ate interesting "local" food, saw a great concert, and came back. All in all, not only did I survive "the big city", I felt that I did very well for myself. I'm not as much of an edge case (or a hopeless case) as I'd imagined. Overall, a very enjoyable experience.