The Grand Catch-Up: How I'm Doing

It’s no secret that post-midnight, I’m traditionally like a rainbow whose colors flourish across the darkness. Been this way all my life—fighting going to bed as a kid and wholly believing that the morning offered nothing more than the chill and clouds that would ultimately bloom into a worthy day.

My mammer has always insisted upon the opposite: early to bed, early to rise makes one a good person. There were many lessons I learned as a kid and discovered as an adult that ultimately had two credible sides, you know?

Tonight, after a blissful evening of domestic accomplishment—painting all of the moldings around the new windows we had installed in the apartment in March and continuing to transform a plain vinyl media unit into an almost-wood-looking built-in, with added moldings and bright white paint, I settled down to check in on various Web sites… only to find that my goddamn Internet service is AWOL for the past hour-plus. Thank you fucking Time Warner.

But that does give me the chance to actually check in for the first time in a couple months, since my layoff from Billboard March 25. It’s been a good while since I’ve actually delivered a full narrative about life’s evolution… and indeed there are tidal shifts in attitude and goals and how I now live my life day to day.

Foremost, in the 10 weeks that I’ve been unemployed, I have recognized—as I always believed—that routine is my ally. Too much freedom leaves me listless… staying up too damn late for no particularly good reason, then sleeping in without purpose… With a 9-6 job, I was forced to bed. I needed that discipline. Perhaps I waste time now. Then again, after working on deadline for 25 years, I’m relishing the break, but ultimately, I know that I’m more effective as a workhorse, given a dedicated purpose that requires given hours. Sigh. As much as I’d love to believe that I am a self-starter, I have never, ever wanted a career as a fulltime free-lancer. Now, I’ve proved I was on target.

Mind you, given the right project that I might own—a book—which remains my ultimate goal, I imagine myself driven like a gazelle… writing with unending dedication, and if it happens that I am turned on from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m., then god bless the light inside. I’m searching for that goal… and I know that as a master storyteller, I can obsess with the passion required to deliver.

Meanwhile, New York remains a testy locale. It’s the beginning of June, and has yet to consistently warm up and dry out. My goals of walking around the city and exploring Brooklyn are persistently blocked by vile weather. Not helping the cause here.

I have managed a couple lucrative freelance projects, which have squelched any fear that overrides so many of us that are unemployed—uh, $$$—and frankly, because I also learned from my mammer to never live beyond my means, the financial side is the least of my worries.

So what’s next? Severance continues through the end of this month and then there’s unemployment and Cobra… but I’m actually finding just about now that I’m ready to know who I’m going to be in the near future. I’d love it to be “author, but I’m almost… almost… just about… ready to be someone’s right hand again.

Who knew? I don’t think I even realized that until I just wrote it, stared at the words and thought, yep, it’s true. In the mean time, life, even without so much structure, is a joy. I was able to spend five days over Memorial Day weekend at Fire Island, without worrying about returning to the office and as good, I intend to spend five days visiting the parents for their 59th anniversary—Dad is 85 and Mother 83, how precious is that?—and other friends in Lynchburg, Va., later this month.

Summary: I wouldn’t even consider complaining. I have quite a deal. A fine reputation as a known journalist that will find my next great journey in time. If it’s next month or next year, I’m a-okay, cool cats. Meanwhile, okay, so I stay up way too late for my mother’s tastes. I get up at 10 a.m. And maybe I don’t even shower until 2 in the afternoon. So spank me. I probably won’t cry.