Found out that my dog, Lily, died yesterday. You may remember her from this picture I posted a while back. I’m happy I got to see her one last time in California last week.

Last March, I made an impromptu, late night trip to the grocery store. It was past midnight—too late for any dignified person to go out and buy Pop-Tarts—but I was hungry. I walked from the store back to my apartment, unable to hear anything around me as my iPod drowned out all outside sounds, and any movement to my left or right was lost in the shadows of my dark street. You’re right to assume this is not how one should walk home in the middle of the night in San Francisco. You’re also right to assume I was a complete idiot. I learned this lesson as soon as a hooded figure ran towards me from my right. I knew what was happening, but I had no time to run. In the moment, I stupidly thought he wanted my groceries, so I threw them at the guy. He let them fall and then continued for me. He bear hugged me to prevent me from moving. My face was pressed against his chest while he started patting down my body. I managed to unzip most of my hoodie and then elbowed him. This whole time, my earphones were in while Wilco’s “Hell Is Chrome” played as a soundtrack to this experience. They popped out of my ears as I literally ran out of my hoodie and fled to my apartment. All the guy got were some groceries, a hoodie, and used iPod earphones. I still had my wallet, phone, and keys. For a while after that happened, I had trouble walking alone at night. It’s been nearly a year since then. Last night I walked to a bar for a friend’s birthday. It was 10:30pm, not too late to be listening to my iPod at a low volume, and I was a few blocks from my apartment in a generally safe part of the city. I saw a man lingering in the shadows on the sidewalk I was walking on. As I approached him, I took my earphones out, and noticed he had begun walking towards me. I instinctively knew this wasn’t going to be good. He muttered something. “Give me…” The rest was inaudible. I looked down and he had pointed a gun point blank at my stomach. I yelled, “No, don’t! Not again!” Not again. I don’t know why I said that, but my actions during all of this were involuntary. I grabbed the gun in his right hand, and used it to swing his right arm to his left. (This may be the most badass thing I’ve ever done / will ever do.) I started yelling “fuck, fuck, fuck” as I turned and ran. I had an expensive camera hanging on my shoulder (I assume this is what he wanted), which was swinging wildly, left and right, as I ran in a zig zag pattern down the street, in case he were to shoot me as I ran away. Last night, I ran faster than the night I ran from the attacker last year. I don’t remember ever sprinting so fast in my life—for my life. I’m incredibly lucky. Those few seconds, from when I grabbed the gun in his hand, to swinging it to his side, to running like hell until someone saw me, were scary in a way I’ve never been scared before. When a gun is pointed at you, when someone is threatening your life, everything you think is big becomes small. I ran without looking back, thinking, this guy could shoot me right now and I could die and everything will be lost forever. My mind went blank. Completely blank. Contemplating the thought that my life could just end in a second, I didn’t know what to think about. It’s like everything was drained from consciousness. What happened in those very short few seconds reiterated something I often forget: I’m an adult now. The problem, though, is I feel like a kid when I look at friends who are older than me, with real adult problems. Marriage. Having kids. Divorce. I just sit back and think I’m too young for all that, and somehow I’m going to forever avoid growing up. Shootings aren’t uncommon; adults sometimes shoot other adults from time to time for various reasons. It would, however, take a special kind of evil to point a gun at a kid. And for the longest time, I imagined I could skirt by the dangerous parts of life with the simple excuse that I’m a kid. Then someone pointed a gun at me, and I realized I’m not a kid anymore. Some fucked up adult saw me as a clueless peer, someone he could take advantage of. Who knows if that guy would ever actually shoot someone. The gun may not have even been real. Regardless, this is going to leave a lasting impression on me. This happened a few blocks from where I live. I realized that no matter where you go, there will be assholes. So, I’ll keep doing my best to avoid the assholes, and living life like it’s too short, because it is indeed very short.