Cash Flow

I’ve always thought of writing as a kind of performance, with different forms and genres each requiring different skills and presuppositions. Even when I was writing opinion columns for Chimes, I was always aware that I was adapting my writing to whatever argument I happened to be making. Actually, when I was thinking about some issue, sometimes I would write two different drafts with opposing ideas, and then pick whichever one I thought sounded better. Often, I feel that language determines my beliefs, rather than vice versa.

All of which is why the habit of writing a blog doesn’t come naturally to me. Everything that I might post is, presumably, the Real, Authentic Thoughts and Feelings of Adam Petty. Still, as I’ve been writing these posts, I’ve been aware that I’ve been trying to project the image of someone who has things together, more or less, or at least wouldn’t get too bothered if he didn’t.

But I am. Bothered, that is. And frustrated, and anxious. You see, I started teaching at an institute about a week ago, and thought that my worries about finding work were over. Then, during a casual conversation with another teacher, I found out exactly how much I’m earning per hour, and it’s far lower than what I was expecting. I know, I really should have found out the exact amount before I started working there, but I was worried about finding work, and I guess I just took the first thing that came along.

Exact numbers don’t matter, and probably would be inadvisable to post on the internet, but suffice it to say, I need to be earning at least twice what I’m making right if I want to continue paying rent, and eating. To say nothing of my ever-present student loan payments.

I’ve been reluctant to explain the situation to my few friends here, as I feel embarrassed about taking such a bad job, so you can imagine the annoyance I’m experiencing by posting my frustrations to be read by anyone who might care to. I simply feel like I’ve been duped, like I’m just another dumb American getting hustled in a foreign country.

Obviously, I don’t know what exactly I’m going to do about this situation, or else this post would have a much clearer resolution. But for reasons that I can’t explain, I felt that it was important to record and preserve this unresolved frustration of mine.

I’m not good at praying, and so could probably use any prayers that you readers might have lying around.