Am I crazy?

Clearly, I mean that rhetorically. I think. Or maybe not. I mean, maybe I am a little crazy. I guess it’s not every day that a 30-year-old woman (even though she doesn’t look a day over 12 24) decides to sell most of her sh*t, pack the rest up and move to Chile. Then again, a “normal” woman my age (or maybe of any age) would never have started a blog featuring a whole lot of inappropriate jokes that would eventually get her fired. I suppose also that a “sane” person (of any gender or age) then wouldn’t decide to get a job at a sex shop “just for fun” (although, ahem, not that kind of fun, you perv).

Moreover, I suppose most people in my situation would probably be trying extra hard to be employed again.

I guess I’m not most people. And not just because I eat beans for nearly every meal and still manage to have no gastrointestinal problems. (Seriously, my digestive tract is amazing.)

I honestly have no desire to have a job, at least in the classic sense of office work. I’m just not good at it, the whole 9-to-5 thing. Some people are and they even like it. In a way, I’m even kind of envious of them. Office jobs are steady; they’re reliable; they’re stable. And truthfully, a part of me wants that. Unfortunately for that part, there’s a much larger part of me that seeks adventure, excitement and spontaneity. This is a part of myself that I can’t suppress. And until I moved to DC, I never have. That’s why I forewent a “real job” to spend my early 20s in Moscow. That’s also why I quit my well-paying, entry-level embassy job to work for a sketchy English-language nightlife magazine that paid me via an envelop stuffed with rubles. I wasn’t rich, but I loved it.

So why did I quit? Because I thought at the age of 24 that it was time for me to “grow up” and “get a real job” back in the United States. One that had a 401(k) plan and health benefits. So I left Russia, moved to Boston and got a Master’s degree in International Relations. A couple of years later I found myself in DC with that “serious job” I thought I needed.

There was just one big problem — I’m pretty sure I never wanted that. Which is why I started The Anti DC. Which is why every day I spent in the office I felt a little less like myself. It’s as if I was a horrible yet loveable illusionist and my office was a legitimate workplace.

It just wasn’t working. Pun intended.

So, what does all this mean? It means I’m now doing what I want. It means when I go to Santiago, I won’t be working in the traditional sense of the word. I will, however, be doing more to earn a living there than I currently am in DC, which amounts to pretty much just watching episodes of the Tyra Banks Show and collecting unemployment checks.

So, what’s my plan exactly?

Well, the first thing I plan to do when I get to Chile is learn Spanish. For about what I pay in one month’s rent for a sh*tty studio in Columbia Heights, I will be paying for a month’s worth of room and board and 80 hours of Spanish-language lessons.

After (and hopefully during) that month, I plan to freelance write to maintain a level of income that will allow me to travel not only all around Chile, but also to Peru, Argentina, Ecuador and wherever else I may feel like going. Who knows, if I can swing it, maybe I’ll even spend a week or two in Antarctica.

I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t have a long-term plan. I’ve learned in the past that those don’t often work out for me. I either end up in a grad school program getting a degree I’ll never use or I end up getting a dead-end job I hate that makes me feel like I’m the only one dancing in the room. (Yes, I’m convinced Arrested Development explains everything better.)

Anyway, I realize my lifestyle isn’t for everyone, but it is for me (at least for now) and I am lucky enough (trust me, I realize this) to have the savings — ironically earned from the DC office job I so hated — to afford a radical change like this. I’m also lucky enough (although some may not think so) not to be tied down by anything or anyone that would keep me in DC. It helps, I suppose, to know that those I truly care about and those who care about me (believe it or not, I’ve been able to fool a few people out there) will remain in each others’ lives no matter where we end up, although I do look forward to future reunions. 😉 (And yes, I did just insert a winking smiley face because I’m a dork.)

So there it is. Am I crazy? Maybe. But also maybe not. If you think about it, it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that at this point in my life I know some things make me happy and others don’t. Will Chile? I don’t know. But why not try? Plus, just look at it. It’s effing stunning!