You know what I've realized lately? Not having a life sure is odd. I thought it would be something I'd get used to. Cereal every morning, wearing the same underwear for a month and, of course, weekends at the shooting range. What more could I want?
Well, now I'm aching for some action. Any kind of human interaction would be appreciated, and not just for target practice. For instance, I still haven't had anyone explain the ending of LOST to me. I feel like such a hermit.
You see, my life pretty much fell apart after Sandra left me. I don't know how much of it has to do with her, though. When we were together, most of my joy in life came from the secrets I kept from her. Those secrets, along with a classic case of domestic violence, led to my current single status.
I've always been an independent man in horn-rimmed glasses, though. So, I'm not saying I really need the companionship. After all, I recently re-read To Kill a Mockingbird. Turns out Scout wasn't a pet bird. It's amazing the things I missed the first time around. Perhaps a lot of that may have had to do with it being back in my pre-horn-rimmed days.
I realize now, though, that I am a mockingbird. Metaphorically, of course. I don't mean anyone harm. The people I shoot are like blue jays, which Atticus says we can kill as many as we want. My only goal in life is to protect my loved ones. Unfortunately, like Boo Radley, that often means I'm looked at like a pale creep.
Scout is a lot like my very own Claire Bear. She's a rowdy, strong-minded type who likes to dress up as a ham. And in my effort to protect her, evil rednecks catch the pointy end of my knife.
So, that being said, I think I deserve a little respect. If it's a sin to kill a mockingbird, then wouldn't it be virtuous to kill with one?