Camping

Well, I feel very much less stuck since the job interview. I woke up Tuesday morning to SUNSHINE. I checked the weather, and it was going to be 70 in Redding. I immediately began reformulating plans in my mind for the day. Spirit kept saying Big Bar, but when I got to Big Bar I couldn’t get a campfire permit, so I pushed on to Willow Creek and camped at Horse Linto, utterly alone. Everything was wet. I couldn’t get a fire started for the life of me, so I just slept in the car. At first I felt very lonely and wasn’t tired. I listened to NPR and wrote to Taylor, which since Saturday I have felt the urge to do. It’s been a long time. Then I headed back east Wednesday morning as it had rained overnight and was still wet, misty, and cloudy. I ended up at Whiseytown and hiked the Mt. Shasta Mine trail and then camped at Oak Bottom. I was pretty much the only one there as well, but not nearly so isolated as at Horse Linto. This morning I spent an hour or so at Whiskeytown Lake basking in the sun reading Burroughs. I am playing at another cut up, but I keep letting myself get interrupted. I really wish I had someone to go out to dinner with tonight, or could bribe Joe into cooking dinner for me. I can’t think of what I want beyond a chocolate malt and sea salt and vinegar chips and maybe a sandwich. I’ve been excessively lazy since eating lunch. I haven’t even finished unloading the car. I always thought my mom was weird with her chocolate malts and potato chips when she had her period, and now look at me, but I am finally synced up with the lunar cycle again, menstruating at the new moon, hopefully ovulating at the full moon, although it’s probably been a year since that’s happened. Hi, yes, I would love to have 29 day cycles again. I’m sick of bleeding almost half the time.

I could make tuna melts for dinner. That’s easy, and it will sort of taste like a sandwich.

My legs and hands feel really chapped. My jaw aches. My throat hurts. Are you listening?

Oh yeah, I have a baby mama mess to deal with and checkbook balancing awaiting. +puke+ When do I get to just forget about this money shit all together? I fucking hate it! Taxes, lawyers, social services, child protective services, unemployment, insurance…. puke, puke, puke! What has any of this to do with eating, chocolate, cuddles, writing, or archaeology? Ok, so I wouldn’t have work if it weren’t for laws and government, because… ugh! If men were angels… as James Madison said. I am tired of being one in a world with so few. Somebody else rescue my baby boy and deal with the finer details of my deadworld identity. I have stars to gaze at and words to reconfigure.

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2 Comments

  1. Meredith said,

    February 22, 2010 at 5:41 PM

    Sounds like an uncomfortable night camping. But then I’m past the age when lying on the ground outside feels appealing. Stars, yes. Back and joint pain, not so much. Plus, I always roll down any incline, no matter how slight.

    Here’s to being regular in your flows. 🙂 Some people may think it odd, but I always felt the regular cycle was rather comforting.

    Ummmm, why is the baby mama mess yours to deal with? (What did she do now?) Filing a report with CPS is one thing, but anything else is out of your hands.

  2. nadeanna said,

    February 22, 2010 at 5:58 PM

    It’s all out of my hands. In Wisconsin CPS needs crack pipes, bruises, cuts, broken bones…. stuff like that to do anything. A women that clearly cannot take care of herself, verbal and psychological abuse, and filth are not enough. Of course my definition of filth is much less tolerant than what theirs would be. Verbally threatening someone else’s children might get added to her file. It probably wouldn’t even warrant a home visit. But I suppose I should call the girls’ therapist so she has maybe a better idea of what was going on at that house, and then she can file a report with CPS if she wants. Pretty much, Teagan is dead to me because his mother is a demonic cunt and I have a sense of self preservation.

    No, Michelle wanted to do some assed up shit with the homestead credit even though she had no income last year, because she paid more than a third of the rent. She left this really nasty voicemail while I was camping and of course I was hoping it was Land Between the Lakes calling me back, yet she couldn’t call me or answer her phone Sunday so I could talk to Teagan. She has been such a cunt to everyone so consistently, that Teagan has been cut off from Liz and her girls, my mom, my sister, his grandfather, Brandy, me, his old daycare. So every attachment he’s ever formed has been destroyed. Now while I am fairly certain she didn’t intentionally do this, she is setting it up so that she can control Teagan’s life just as her mother did hers. So much for breaking the cycle. Isn’t the fact that he is now 3 and half and not potty trained enough to get him taken away? As long as Michelle’s mother doesn’t get him, at this point, I don’t care.


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