The state of things

I can’t stay put. It might border on a disability; it might border on insanity, even. Disputtedness. And I’ve got it bad.

I’m staying in South America. I’m even staying in Chile. And I’m staying in Santiago … unless I find a job in a coastal town. Buf. City-fever has struck me with serious implications for my mental health. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it.

In Santiago’s defense. There are plenty of options for late-night fun to be had. But what about the other twelve daylight hours? Fome fome fome [i.e. boring as all get out]. Santiago is all suit-and-tie. And having adjusted myself to Seattlian customs, men in suits make me nervous.

Which is why I suddenly have in my mind that, if I could find a job (teaching English, presumably) in a coastal town, maybe I could last a bit longer.. I’m committed to being in Chile through the end of the year…but who says I have to stay in Santismoggiago? Gross. I’m about ready to throw myself into the Mopocho river—but I’m afraid I’d get stuck in the mud and have the stench engulf my senses for a day or more.

If I don’t move to the coast… I’m moving in with a couple Chilean friends. They have a cat. I’m sold. Santiago isn’t a thing that should be shouldered alone. God, it’s awful. — That’s not to say I’m not having tons of fun. I am. I thoroughly enjoy myself in cafes, at shows, currying flavors with spice-friendly friends, walking in green belts, basking in the glory of blooming cherry blossoms. But when it comes down to the air I breathe, and things of that nature… Seattle tops the list, so far. And that’s just the state of things.