Busy Called And He Wants His Name Back.

I'm jealous. Must...do...more...

I’m not sure where the last month went. I think it went everywhere but here, honestly. But I assure you, I have been top-to-bottom busy every second, the kind of busy that is so busy I couldn’t even stop to plan the chaos. My studio is a disaster, piles and piles everywhere. I have lists of things to do that I don’t recognize, much less know why they were important enough to write down.

But that’s the best thing about being busy. It’s the greatest filter in the world. Sure, I haven’t had the time to re-alphabetize my CDs or movies since my daughter decided that they looked better on the floor. And we have a month’s worth of Daily Shows queued up on DVR to watch. (We’ve long since deleted most of January and February.) And I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep, but I’ve gotten enough.

What I do have is much better. I have a new recording almost in the can. I’m producing my first album for another emerging artist, who just worked her way to a killer first performance. I have a daughter who calls me da-da and holds my hand and smiles at me when we take walks together. I have so many new songs on the line that I can barely keep up with them. I keep a guitar out in the pack-and-play now, just so I can always grab it when we’re all hanging out in the house and get a line done. Now the new songs are  playing in my head on infinite loop, my new radio station that never stops, even when I wish it would for just a second. And if this radio station is anything like the others that get trapped in my head, it won’t stop until months after I’m done recording them.

It’s certainly true that idle hands are the devil’s playground, or something like that – I’ve probably mashed a couple of sayings together, but I don’t have time to look it up. So I like to stay busy, REALLY busy. It used to be that having three things to do always made sure that I got them all done really well. Less than that and I wouldn’t feel the urgency to get things done, more and I would start to get sloppy. Well, that magic number 3 got lonely, and he’s brought all of his friends over to play. A forty-hour work week? I haven’t seen one of those since the twentieth century, and good riddance.

So I guess I’ll get to work now . . . I’ll try not to be too busy for a weekly blog in April. Chances are it will be the something that I do to make sure everything else gets done well, too.