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Last night, I called home to tell my parents some big news: I was offered a full time job (and a contract, and therefore papers, health insurance, and paid vacation time) at the Instituto Norteamericano Chileno, one of the biggest and most respected language institutes in the country. I was ready to accept the position due to the aforementioned benefits, but a little stressed about a couple of things--namely, signing a year-long contract agreeing to be available six days a week to work at peak hours (early mornings or late evenings), and the lack of travel opportunities this would allow me.

I didn't know why I was so stressed about this decision. I mean, I'm already working six days at peak hours, and moving to a different institute would only be good--my base pay rate would be higher, I would get a national ID card, free dental, and probably a great letter of recommendation.

I was talking to my father when I realized what it was. He always says before I hang up, "sounds like you're having the time of your life!" and I always ask myself... Am I?

No. As of last night, I was not having the time of my life.

This was an upsetting realization for any number of reasons. I came here with the specific goal of having the time of my life--I was going to reclaim happiness and experience the world anew. I was going to see new places, throw caution (sort of) to the wind and have some wild adventures. I was going to prove to myself that I could be happy and stress free, that I was capable of having, as my father puts it, the time of my life.

Getting a job was supposed to be incidental to these goals--I was going to work only to save enough money to fund some wild adventures. I would work hard for a short burst, and then leave. Totally stressless, totally calm, and totally manageable.

Except that it hasn't worked out that way. I have been working hard. Not because my job is difficult (it's actually quite easy), but because the hours are terrible--nonconsecutive and spread over the entire day. For example: on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I wake up at 5:45 and leave home at 7:10 to make a 7:15 bus that takes me to one of EF's other campuses, where I start work at 8:00. I teach for one hour (until 9:00), then spend another hour commuting back to the Providencia campus, where I have a second class from 10:00 to 12:00. Then, I have an hour-long break to prep my next class, eat some kind of snack (not enough time to go home and make lunch), and get from the school to my next class (a ten minute walk) and through security (ten minute delay at the front desk.) At 2:30, I'm done with that class, and finally have a sizeable enough break (2:45 to 7:00) to come home, cook lunch, maybe shower, mess around online, and prep for my evening class. At 7:00, I head back for the institute where I have class from 7:30 to 9:00; then I come home, exhausted, and watch the news or call my family or do something that isn't school related for about an hour, or until I pass out where I sit.

This might seem like no big deal--after all, it's only six hours of paid work--but it's a lot of short, stupid waiting time and short, stupid travel time that adds up to 13 hours of the day thinking about work, getting to work, or not getting too far away from work.

This schedule has made it difficult to have any kind of normal daily routine. If I eat breakfast before I leave the apartment (that means breakfast at 6:30) to save money, I have to pack and carry two snacks in addition to my books, as I don't have time to eat a real meal until I get home around 3:00. I don't pack snacks because it's too much to carry and I'm not that organized; I ussually wind up buying something small and unsatisfying around noon and something else (frequently with little nutritional value) on my way home to cook lunch, because I don't think I'll be able to wait 45 more minutes while lunch cooks to get some food in me.

Add to this perpetual exhaustion (I'm not a morning person, but I work at 8 five days a week, 9 on Saturdays), and it suddenly makes a lot of sense that I'm not having the time of my life--how could I be, if I hardly have the energy to get out of bed in the morning? How are you supposed to be having the time of your life when you can't even find the strength to go for a two mile jog every couple of days?

The point of this overly drawn out illustration of my daily routine is not to complain. I've put it here as an illustration of how I automatically--and very quickly--fell into habits that were actually totally contradictory to my stated goals when I left home for a new environment.

I thought getting a job at a different institute might solve this problem; I realize now that it won't. My problem has nothing to do with where I'm working or how much money I'm making. My problem has to do with embracing insecurity, with having the guts to say "maybe I could work more hours and make more money, but thanks to the savings I've built up, I don't have to. I am allowed to take my money and do with it as I please. I don't have to stay at any institute working; I'm allowed to go exploring, to see new things, to enjoy my trip here in every way possible. That is my right, and that is my prerogative."

This does not mean I'm quitting my job today; this does mean that I went in this morning and told my boss that I refused to work early mornings and late nights after tonight. This does not mean that I'm immediately buying a ticket to Buenos Aires and leaving tomorrow to go exploring; I'll wait another month, finishing my grad school applications and adding a little more to my savings until Catalina, a friend from home, reaches the end of her contract at her current job and can come down to go with me. And if she never comes, well, I'll go it alone when my visa expires. I have enough money that I won't starve, and protected enough at home that I won't lose it all if I should get robbed. I'm smart and capable enough to board airplanes and buy train tickets, and fascinated enough by my environment that I want to see it all. And I have enough common sense to stay away from places that are really dangerous for a woman traveling alone.

This blog is not a complaint or an observation or a discussion; this is a declaration. I will do what I came here to do. I will enjoy myself. I will stop with the stress and the worrying and the unhealthy lifestyle living, and instead will have a wonderful time seeing, experiencing, and spending, rather than saving. This is an investment in myself, and I am worth it.