“Leap and the net will appear,” was what was told to me by a trusted friend before I left California. And that is exactly what I’m doing, although the process is considerably more drawn out than such an image would suggest. It’s been over two months since I left the conventional workforce, but with all of the activity that has prevailed in that span of time, it has been anything but a leisurely vacation. Actually, check that — I’ve wasted an appalling amount of time in the past two weeks, which is quite shocking considering the fact that at the moment I have no source of income. Now, I could quite easily rationalize such behavior with the fact that, yes, I was sick for a couple days and, well, I was just so exhausted from the process of moving that I absolutely needed to relax. But let’s face it — it’s all a state of mind, so I’ll spare myself the trouble.

But I don’t wish to minimize just how much has changed in the past month-and-a-half. After returning from my trip in mid-August, I began the process of packing up my life yet again, trying to balance that with working my recital program up for another performance at the end of the month. Meanwhile, I had decided earlier that I would spend a week with my grandmother soaking up as much alone time with her as I could before I left the state again, which created somewhat of a crisis for me: we’ve always been close, so I greatly looked forward to the quality time, but the sheer amount that needed to be accomplished in that two-week period was robbing me of sleep, made all the more urgent by Bil’s impending arrival. But as usually is the case with such concerns, they seem silly now, which is exactly what I kept repeating to myself on those nights where I could only lay staring at Frank’s silhouette curled up in front of the window. While I didn’t know then what I know now, I knew that failing to seize this opportunity would surely have become a deep regret.

For those that have already read Bil’s account of the trip, you already have an idea of the marathon that was the end of August. Flying out on the tail end of a massive storm that managed to signal tornado warnings in Chicago. Trying to move a piano into a Budget truck without the benefit of a ramp. Packing, packing, packing, recital, packing. Four days on the road. The endless procession of IKEA trips and marching up and down the back stairs. All events that I’m sure will crop up in finer detail in the future, but for now I will say only that my days of relying on the help of friends — and, like Blanche, the kindness of strangers — is officially at an end. That’s it. I’m hiring movers next time.

But now the dust has settled, and while there are a number of ancillary details missing from my place at the moment (curtains, table runner, maybe a rug here and there), it’s home. Unfortunately, the trouble with self-employment is that steady income arrives not in the form of a check two weeks after one has begun, but rather dangles cruelly in front of you at a great distance like so many carrots. This in mind, I’ve alternated between hubris and terror, given that my savings will extend only so far, and particularly since despite the fact that I was able to rid myself of debt while I was in California, I’ve racked up new ones making the move and essentially starting from square one. Honorable debt, to be sure, but debt nonetheless. It’s a scary thought.

However, I’ve not let myself be distracted from just how marvelous this town is, particularly the hundreds of free concerts listed in the Reader. ICE on Saturday, for example, where among other startling works I saw Reich’s Vermont Counterpoint played from memory, then Ars Musica last night at DePaul. Probably my first experience hearing the works of Renaissance masters performed the way they were meant to be. And it certainly was no small benefit that all of the songs were about getting drunk and/or nursing hangovers — amazing how dignified everything sounds in Latin!

Oh, and tomorrow night is a reading by Ira Glass at the Barnes & Noble in Evanston. Jealous?

At any rate, this is the first real gamble I’ve taken in my life — it’s been a reasonably safe journey until now. There is still an alarming out of work to be done, but I imagine that as long as I stick to the copious lists I’ve created for myself, I should be able to rein myself in a bit. In the meantime, if any of you happen to know anyone looking for a kick-ass flute teacher on Chicago’s north side, do be good enough to pass my name along.

Praying for a net, I am.

Filed by Trevor at 9:40 am under General