On Repeat

The absence of cataloguing doesn't necessarily mean that the stories are complete. That the issues are solved or that everything is fine. That being said, I've grown weary of the same topics over and over.   Over, or the repeat, is also an indication that things aren't any different. That life is and always be a one step forward, two steps back affair. We are never figured out. It just doesn't work like that. 

Inward. This is my directional specialty. Good bad or indifferent this is the way I reach. I live under the brim of a trucker hat and behind orange lenses. Thinking. Swirling. Questioning. Answering. Re-asking. It goes on and on. Sometimes the conversations I have spill out into the world and sometimes they don't make a sound. There will be times that I think I've told those around me things and they question that. Turns out I just said it in my head. 

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I have since 1997 or so been a fan of a guy named Butch Walker.  He's a musician that I have followed through out his career and the many shapes it's taken. I first heard him in a house on College Drive in Baton Rouge. I was listening to this new thing called internet radio or something. It essentially was music channels over your cable box or something. I know I was listening in my friend Michael Butler's room. I heard a song I wanted to hear again but before I could find out who it was by, the radio moved on. Turns out it wasn't his band at the time's hit, Freak of the Week, but it was a random track called Every Monday. 

I bought the CD, (I guess), after stalking the internet radio for days and eventually wore out Marvelous 3, HEY!, over the next 24 years. I still listen to songs from it weekly. 

As the internet of things has evolved, I've seen more and more and more Butch Walker. He evolved into being one of the most sought after producers in the world working with everyone you can imagine (Pink, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Billy Idol). He still puts out great albums. 

Really though the thing that I think about him the most sometimes is his telling of his story. He's worked with hundreds of artists and there has to be tons of great stories from these experiences but mostly he retells his story. It annoyed me at first, because I wanted more glimpses. More information to make him feel normal, but instead I got the same story over and over. 

Now, I can tell it. I won't. But I could. 

What it reminds me of is that I don't have to rewrite it and be more, more,more. That if I take a look at my life thus far, my story is enough. 

It's a reminder that I don't have to keep trying to be some sort of insane person who has done it all but who took no time to appreciate how much he's already done. 

He should just tell the story. Because it's good enough to hear and be told. 

Yes that can sound monotonous some days. And yes, there may come a time when there's monumental shifts and new chapters that bear exploring, but that every day I don't have to seek more. More. More. 

Tell your story. 

Be proud of it. 

Repeat it until you are. 

Do your best to deal with any parts that need dealing. 

Even in the hardest lived lives, there's stories worth hearing. 

#hugsandhi5s