Time has a way of escaping. Deadlines scream out, sleep overwhelms, and before you realise, several months pass. Winter ends, spring arrives. Things change for what seem the worst, but are in fact blessings in disguise.
At the end of February, I got sick (i.e. fever, chills) for the first time in over a decade! Spent a solid week sleeping. By Friday, the local print shop’s bookkeeper rang. Due to some twisted financial dilemma, my service was “no longer required.”
Translation? Lay-off.
My reaction? HYSTERICS! O.o
House-mates and friends found me mad for my fit of laughter. I’d just lost my only source of income, and I’m a college graduate aching to repay loans. Why so giddy?
Freedom! Adventure! The battle cries of a crazy writer.
Fate brought me to the doorstep of wild fantasy: pack up and leave. With nothing left to tie me down, I might as well swallow my fears and do what all my supportive friends constantly remind me writers are required to do–explore the world, collect backlogs of stories. I’ve toyed with the idea before; even set it up as the ultimate goal for one of my main characters. But my own cling to responsibility always held me back. I had no way to survive when I got wherever I would go.
So what?
Hell, I’ve spent the past few years making several great friends across the globe. Grab a tank-full of fuel and hit the road! First stop: Rochester, NY.
Unfamiliar sights, limited support, potential gold mine for jobs. So far, the latter’s been slow and somewhat discouraging. I set up my laptop in the local Borders (of course!–where else?) and work. Cover letters, applications, novels, scripts. Same old story, same old song.
But wait! That horn comes not from my iTunes library…I turn, discover a brass quintet warming up for an evening performance!
My mood switches from drowsy to giddy.
The group not only performed Bach’s “Little Fugue” (one of my favourites), but reminded me why I love to travel. To be in the centre of action, always on guard for the latest exposure to things that tickle my muse. The reason I embrace the path I’m on.
As their sole attentive audience member (does no one appreciate good music?), I listened intently, applauded from my corner of the cafe. My only regret is that I didn’t have my camera on hand (note to self: always carry camera!) to film anything for show, but I did snap a phone-shot of the group. Afterwards, I approached to thank them for the night and caught the ensemble’s name: The Chameleon Brass Quintet, out of UR’s Eastman School of Music. Bravo! Encore!
…I am now nostalgic for the trumpet I left behind XD
