War Games

We are supposed to go to Paintball tomorrow, and I am not in the least bit excited. In fact, I'm the complete opposite of excited; I'm antipathic. Strange, eh?

Yeah, perhaps it is because I don't have such fond memories of ducking things being thrown at me. Perhaps I am more a pacifist than I thought. Whatever the reason, I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY AT SHOOTING PEOPLE.

Now, lest you think I am unreasonable, let me tell you I've been trying to psych myself up for this for a month, now. I've told myself that we are just painting each other beautiful colors, we are having a water balloon fight, we are bonding with Behr.

And it isn't working. When I close my eyes and imagine someone pointing their gun at me, in my mind's eye, I squeak, duck, lay my gun down and curl up into a ball with my hands over my ears. I do. I've tried forcing a vision of me letting out a fierce war cry and going all Rambo, but it just doesn't play. I cried for days when a certain blogger killed all the woodnymphs but one, and that was a stupid blog fantasy. Yes, he meant it to upset me, but you'd think knowing that was his purpose would have reduced the sadness I felt! Nope. It didn't.

And look at this crowd! They ALL have itchy trigger fingers. In fact, in my mind's eye, I stand looking them in the eye and saying in a calm and reasonable voice, "This is a character test," and at least five of them look me straight back, pull the trigger and say, "Oops. I failed."

Sigh...