Friday, April 12, 2002



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I will go in this way
And find my own way out
I won't tell you to stay
But I'm coming to much more
Me
-DJM
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I'm standing in front of a metal sink, dodging flying pieces of melted cheese, reeking of stale tomato sauce, and a layer of dishwater film is slowly growing over my forearms. My thoughts: Making money, making money, Alaska, Alaska, apartment, moose, Tom, making money.

The only thing cool about my pizza delivery job is that I get paid for it. On second thought, the other really cool think about my pizza delivery job is that I get to bring home a free pizza on occasion for my family to eat...which makes me feel like some sort of "bread winner."

In all honestly, with two days under my belt as a delivery person I have yet to feel bitter, jaded or frustrated with my job. In my eyes, it's rather coosh (is that spelled right?). I work in the evenings, spend time in my car listening to cd's, delivery to really nice neighborhoods, and have cash in my pocket at the end of the day. Sure, any time I'm not in my car I have to be washing dishes or sweeping or what-have-you but I really don't mind doing that sort of thing. My shifts for the past two nights have been about 3-4 hours long. Saturday I will work a 5.5 hour shift. Apparently, I'll be trained in the fine art of dough making, sauce cooking, and salad creating.

A good sign that I'm a total nerd is that I am excited about Saturday. That I actually think it's fun to deliver pizza and wash nasty dishes. I take pride in the fact that I did the majority of the dishes my first night there. I reveled in taking my first phone order and when I delivered my first pizza I kicked my leg in the air like a cheerleader and exclaimed, "I AM A PIZZA DELIVERY PERSON!"

Tom, who thinks that my unlimited amount of optimism is a symptom of youth and naivety, is convinced that I will eventually HATE working. But it seems that I have had very few jobs that I actually can say I "hated." I can only think of two off the top of my head and both were telemarketing jobs that once I started hating I promptly quit. Sure, there are jobs I don't intend on going back to like being a phone psychic or artist model, but I don't HATE those jobs.

I'm still working as a substitute teacher in Arvin. The work has been sparse in the past two weeks, and in order to help me save up for Alaska I decided to take up a night job. Having a second job makes not working as a sub. a little less stressful. Sure, I'm not making the same amount but I am atleast making a little money rather than sitting around my house and stressing out.

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Speaking of Alaska...I was expressing to my Mom that when she visits me in Alaska she should bring Pickles (my little dog). She said that she couldn't visit me and besides I'm only going to be there for a few months. I explained to her that I MIGHT be there a few months or I MIGHT be there longer. Her reply, "I can't handle this right now."

Which worries me...the idea that my mother can't "handle" me moving away or out. I'm sure she'd be totally less freaked out if I moved to another apartment. I'm suddenly consumed by fear that my mother is going to go haywire while I'm in Alaska. I don't want a repeat of the tearful phone calls I received the last time I spent an extended time away from home. I know I shouldn't feel guilty or responsible but my Mom is just about all I have...I'm all she has.

I had a horrible dream the other night that Mom was diagnosed with cancer and she had basically resigned herself to dying. I was screaming in terror and fear, pleading with her to do something: see a doctor, take some medication, fight for her life. But she only comforted me and said, "It's okay, but I'm going to die." I kept running around screaming and howling. I kept telling her I wasn't ready for her to die...that I wasn't ready to let her go. I woke-up in tears... and had a need to go hold onto my mother.

Ever since then I haven't been so much rethinking Alaska...as trying to console myself. My mother in many ways has resigned herself to things in her life, and it upsets me so much. She is unhappy and yet does nothing to change her unhappiness. She has in a sense resigned herself to the cancerous nature of depression. I'm very scared for my mommy.

If I can have just a few years of independence I can come back and take care of my mother forever. That's fine...I always sort of knew that I was going to have to take care of her, but I first need to live on my own. I'd rather give up a little of my life so that I can keep her around than lose her altogether.
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Did my taxes today...Telefile...getting $400 back from the government...this is the closest I've ever gotten to winning the lottery...I'm going to savor that moment.
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So, let's make an inventory of what I think of most often: Money, weightloss (70 lbs. gone and 30 more to go), Tom, Alaska, my apartment in Alaska, my mother, how much I'm going to miss Pickles, oh and all my friends...did I mention money?

Dammit, am I becoming a capitalist?
Love,

Chelsea

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