In Limbo

I’m in limbo, literally and figuratively.

After ten years at WRUF, and fourteen years, collectively, selling advertising and doing concert promotion, I’d decided that my life was on a path to nowhere – a continuous loop that was pleasant enough if each day was taken alone, but which, in the end, always led back to the same place. When the sole source of variety in your existence is the choice of which cocktail you have at the end of the day, you eventually realize that change is necessary. Essential. It took a while – courage has never been my most notable trait – but I finally recognized that, to get off this torturous path, I would have to cut my way out.

I knew it would be difficult, drastic, disturbing. And I knew that, if I did it right, it would leave me nowhere – no job, no place to live. In limbo.

At first, the idea scared the hell out of me. What kind of moron gives up an established career to start over? But, the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was the right thing to do. Eventually, at work, every morning made me angry. And every night I went to sleep dreading the morning. Twenty more years of that? No thanks.

What made it really scary is that I am good at what I do. What I did. Advertisers trusted me. I was able to combine sales success with my love of live rock music by forming a company to solicit sponsorships and promote concert events, at first on behalf of WRUF, then on my own. Rock Solid Promotions was quickly successful. I answered phone calls and did what I promised I would do in a business where those characteristics are unusual. Major advertisers wanted to be associated with my events. With help from my sometime business partner, and money from a major clothing manufacturer, I secured a sponsorship for the main stage at the Florida Music Festival in Orlando in 2004, and hosted the VIP party for the music industry heavyweights. I decided I wanted to manage bands, too, and worked tirelessly. After a while, I would meet well-placed people and be impressed, only to discover that they had wanted to meet me. At industry gatherings, producers and record label guys would grab me by the arm and drag me away for a chance to chat. When I went to Panama City Beach to scout out a band I was interested in managing, I stayed in a three bedroom villa at the Marriott. I wanted the band to be as impressed with me as I had become with myself.

Recently, on the side of a Starbucks coffee cup, I read a quote from Po Bronson who, according to the cup, is the author of short stories, screenplays and non-fiction, including (ironically) “What Should I Do With My Life?” He wrote, “Failure’s hard, but success is far more dangerous, if you’re successful at the wrong thing. The mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever.” At some point, I knew that the music business was the wrong thing. By then, I was divorced, or nearly so. Finally, although it took much longer, I realized that selling advertising was the wrong thing too.

In between, I dated an amazing woman who changed my life. I needed a detailed plan before I would get in my car. She would hop in her maroon Jeep at a moment's notice and go anywhere a tank of gas would take her, with a wrinkled T-shirt and a pair of shorts thrown in the back seat. And her dog, Denali, of course. But we laughed at the same things, and we enjoyed each other’s company. She is the smartest person I’ve ever met, and, in many ways, the coolest. We drove each other crazy. After a few months, when her dog got too big to sneak into my place, we stayed at her apartment – a tiny one bedroom. And I didn’t care. Eventually, it got to be too much, so intense that it was scary, and she moved back home to Maryland.

But I had found that I could easily give up the comforts of my lifestyle. More and more I found my two bedroom townhouse to be cold and cavernous. When I decided I could give up my security as well, I knew I was ready to go. Somewhere.

And it dawned on me that I wouldn’t be starting from scratch, exactly. I write well. I speak well. I think quickly on my feet. I have years of experience and knowledge that must be useful to someone. And I have often been told that I have one key characteristic that can’t really be taught or learned; people like me. So, if you were going to go somewhere to look for the “right’ thing to do, where would it be?

During the fifteen months of dating Kami, I visited Maryland/DC five times. I liked it more and more each time. I liked the idea of living in or near a big city and using mass transit. It annoyed me that there are places in Gainesville that take me a half hour to drive to. A half hour? In Hogtown? You must be joking. I like the energy and the majesty of DC. I like the fact that it is easy to surround yourself with bright people. I like the museums and the history. According to most estimates, there are about 10,000 Civil War historic sites overall, and 60% of them are in Virginia, with significant others nearby in Maryland or Pennsylvania. A lifetime of weekend exploring. Add to that the fact that the DC area economy is still relatively robust, even in these crappy times, and the decision was made. The fact that Kami is there is certainly an interesting complication. A good one? Possibly. A bad one? No way. Neither of us would ever do anything to screw up the connection we have, even if that connection is only enjoyed mostly from a distance.

I reached the ten year mark at WRUF at the end of December, knowing that, beyond that point, I would get paid my vacation time and a quarter of my sick leave upon termination. I waited another month, and I quit. I had no idea it would take four to six weeks to complete the necessary paperwork and financial transactions. Bureaucracy never seemed so evil. I started the process on March 6th. As of yesterday - March 17th - the first step in my termination had yet to be approved by Human Resources. After that, there is another step. Then one more.

So here I sit. In limbo. Waiting for the check that will keep me alive while I decide what my life will be like.