Three More Goddamn Weeks

... on crutches.

This is not a good thing.

Without my left foot, I cannot operate my car (stick shift, dontchaknow).

Thus, I cannot do the ONE THING this miserable fucking state is allegedly good for.

I cannot drive to a range and get the practice with my firearms I so desperately need.

I am far too poor to afford actual training. This I can accept, until I land a real job (which being on crutches is also making hard- I can't even work part-time until I can stand up without using both hands).

But I cannot even log basic, elementary, ESSENTIAL practice.

I have never been a great marksman, but back when I was shooting at red squirrels eighty feet up on a regular basis, I at least didn't suck harder than Heather Harmon. Now, in addition to watching my left leg atrophy in the name of the healing process, I am also looking at my guns.

They look back at me accusingly.

"Motherfucker, you haven't even LOADED us since you got here."

Sorry guys. But its like buying condoms when you KNOW you're getting nowhere...

But there are silver linings. I have been accepted into a program which, if my luck stays at least tolerable, should land my pasty white ass in the middle of rural Alaska for two years. My tactical firearms training will suffer, of course, because out there, they use guns to get food, not kill people efficiently.

But I hope to learn a few key survival skills (building decent shelters, starting fires with crappy materials, preserving meat without the use of modern technology or abundant salt, trapping, navigation) and a few bells and whistles (like piloting small airplanes, maybe how to operate a boat bigger than a small Boston Whaler, perhaps some carpentry stuff). This is, of course, highly ambitious, especially since I'll have plenty of other things to do with my time, things that will earn money (for the co-op my degenerate tribe of misfits is going to purchase) and pad my resume so I can get a few more decent jobs before the whole mess goes tits-up and I have to eat what I can grow or kill.

I have a lot of time to think about this lately, because I, in my infinite wisdom, moved to a state I hate where I know no one and promptly gimped myself.

So, in summation- Time is finite, and the stuff my comrades and I need to learn is only BARELY surmountable.

Fuck me, I hate it here