I’ve been thinking a lot about Chile lately.
I fondly remember my first trip there—you know, the catalyst to my ditching the states and up and moving to South America.
The trip was a vacation from reality, an ugly just had my life blow up, reality.
It was awesome.
And when the time came for me to get on that bus to Santiago and fly home I just…didn’t want to go. In fact I may have cried a little. Don't hold it against me, even Dudes cry sometimes.
In Chile I found peace and calm AND I even wrote “I Would Do Anything for Love, Meatloaf the Musical.” I was only there 2 weeks.
Home, I suffered writer’s block, a certain melancholy from a recent loss, and a sense of frustration at my inability to commit to ANYTHING or anyone.
At that point all my worldly possessions were already downsized and fit not so neatly into 9 plastic tubs. All my books, my lovely books, my best friends, were stacked away to never be seen or touched.
I had nothing holding me back from just checking out of the world as I knew it for a bit, or forever, if I deemed fit.
I’m not going to say that moving to Chile just made sense, but I can say that moving to Chile made me feel good. I had no rhyme nor reason, just a desperate desire to be okay or at least smile again.
So I moved. To Chile. The country. And no, they do not eat Chili in Chile. In fact, Chilenos have no idea what you are talking about.
Ah.
That’s exactly it. What now?
The first week was posted under “Ditch the B—Life! Let’s move to Chile.”
I fondly remember my first trip there—you know, the catalyst to my ditching the states and up and moving to South America.
The trip was a vacation from reality, an ugly just had my life blow up, reality.
Instead of facing the questions of where I was going to live, work, do, be… I got to run on the beach everyday and drink and dance all night. I even let myself relax and spend a night just watching a DVD box set and doing nothing else except lying on a bed.
It was awesome.
And when the time came for me to get on that bus to Santiago and fly home I just…didn’t want to go. In fact I may have cried a little. Don't hold it against me, even Dudes cry sometimes.
In Chile I found peace and calm AND I even wrote “I Would Do Anything for Love, Meatloaf the Musical.” I was only there 2 weeks.
Home, I suffered writer’s block, a certain melancholy from a recent loss, and a sense of frustration at my inability to commit to ANYTHING or anyone.
At that point all my worldly possessions were already downsized and fit not so neatly into 9 plastic tubs. All my books, my lovely books, my best friends, were stacked away to never be seen or touched.
I had nothing holding me back from just checking out of the world as I knew it for a bit, or forever, if I deemed fit.
I’m not going to say that moving to Chile just made sense, but I can say that moving to Chile made me feel good. I had no rhyme nor reason, just a desperate desire to be okay or at least smile again.
So I moved. To Chile. The country. And no, they do not eat Chili in Chile. In fact, Chilenos have no idea what you are talking about.
Ah.
But once there and the revelry of the situation wore off, bitter reality hit. Suddenly faced with no other than myself and my decisions, my brain screamed “What did you do? YOU MOVED TO CHILE? WHY?? Because you can? Well, now you have you big Nincompoop. What now?!
That’s exactly it. What now?
****So many in my shoes have wanted to ditch it all and run, so I thought it best to post my journal entries from when I moved to Chile. They are only touched up where repetition displayed itself or personal issues of others were discussed, otherwise they are exactly as I wrote them…sigh, a mess.
The first week was posted under “Ditch the B—Life! Let’s move to Chile.”
No comments:
Post a Comment