jennings rampage

Quo vadimus.

One of the things I hear myself repeating is “everything happens for a reason.” I lost that job because it was clearly not what I was supposed to be doing, it was very comfortable but completely wrong for me, and the fact that I’m not there today is uncomfortable but right for me.

I told myself on the drive home from my old office that this is the final chapter of my quarter-life crisis, this is the one piece of the puzzle I had been putting off, and I would take the time to make my next step as judiciously as I could. I had no idea at all in that moment what that next step was, and started saying that anything was possible for me, I had no ties and no obligations and could pop up anywhere doing anything.

It took about six hours from the time I was fired to the point where it was ridiculously obvious that I’m supposed to move back to New York now.

I didn’t leave New York on my own terms when I left almost five years ago (wow), but I said I would be back as soon as I could. When I left, I was unemployed, completely broke, seriously depressed, and bald. I was leaving to take care of my terminally ill mother in Florida, and when she passed away a month later, I was in no position to go straight back. My brother and I shared an apartment in Norfolk, where he was stationed at the time, and I found a decent job and continued to vow to return to New York the moment it was feasible. Jeff shipped off to the Persian Gulf in March 2003, and I started driving every weekend from Norfolk to Chapel Hill to stay with my Internet friend Ross White and direct a team that would soon name itself Mister Diplomat and help put on a show in an ice cream shop on Saturday nights. I was employed, saving a little bit of money, and I let my hair grow back.

In October 2003, I lost my job in Norfolk because I was still seriously depressed and I wasn’t supposed to be living in Norfolk. In that moment, I thought about going back to New York, but I knew I was supposed to move to Chapel Hill and be a part of this community. I landed here permanently in January 2004, got a job, found an apartment with Austin, started dating Katy, and gave all I had to building a training center and a community of artists at DSI.

I don’t know if you heard, but the DSI thing went pretty well. It seemed strange, but we attracted some really great people from all over the place — Austin, Ryan, Porter, Bret, Chris, JSQ, Jeremy. I hit my stride as a teacher, director, and performer at one point or another. We played in an ice cream store and a bookstore and a dirty rock ‘n roll club. We opened a training center. We opened a theater in October 2005. When I visited New York, it changed from “I can’t wait to get back here” to “you’ve got to come down and see what we did there.” (And I’m grateful to the people who did come down.) I was named Artistic Director in February 2006.

I resigned as Artistic Director in June 2006. (It didn’t go especially well.) Katy and I broke up ten days later. Friends started moving to New York to find what was next, and I was proud that I could point them there. Community Bike grew by leaps and bounds and seemed poised to take their game to the next level, and I wanted to go there with them. And then the wheels started coming off a little, strained relationships strained too far, and Community Bike ended their run in February 2007; not with a bang but a vindictive whimper. My own creative efforts weren’t committed, my frustration grew, and I quietly took a break from DSI. (Well, the death of Biff Hobgood was obnoxious.)

I believe that I can be content anywhere in the world as long as I’m surrounded by the right people. I was content in Chapel Hill because, as Jason put it, it was small town living with big city people. But now the big city people are headed for the big city, and that made sense, but it bummed me out more than I cared to let on. DSI has seen practically 100% turnover in the past year, and I’m sure that’s the natural course of things, but it’s their house now, and it’s not a place where I can study or practice my art in the way I need to. I trust their stewardship and I’ll always be proud to have been a part of it, but it’s their house now.

I’m a big city person, and it’s time for me to go back to the big city. I’m going back to do work that I care about, study and practice my art, spend time with people I love, and be in a position to enjoy the hell out of my 30s. It’s not going to be easy, I’m not especially prepared for this, but it’s what I’m supposed to do now, so it’s what I’ll do. Start spreading the news: I’m leaving Chapel Hill at the end of August.