Loop De Loop

Wasn't it just yesterday I was talking about mental deterioration with age? After I posted, I began pondering the odds that I'd never used that old “Ford” acronym as a title before. So I did some searching, and I had. About five years ago. I had to tweak the title of the newer post.

I guess it's an understandable mistake, but it makes me wonder how often I've repeated myself and wrote about the same things, perhaps in almost the same words. In general, I often feel like life itself is an endless hamster wheel. I enjoy my work, but there have always been busy seasons at every company I've worked at, and any sense of accomplishment is short-lived due to the overlap in assignments. As one project is being finished, there's always a new one starting. I'm never done, and while I'm grateful for steady work doing stuff I enjoy, there are times when it gets monotonous. I've never taken off for an entire week in my working career. I've never had more than a weekend off between transitioning jobs, either. So I've been working for more than 14 years straight. I'm not complaining; my dad did that his whole life, although the last 30 years of his career he managed to swing a sweet 12-hour tour that had him fixing police cars Wednesday through Friday, with the rest of the week off. I could work three 12-hour days if it meant consistently having four days to do my own thing.

I'm always at odds between routine and freedom, because I don't always know what to do with freedom. On odd weekends when I have no band gigs and chores are done, I might nap a day away. And even when I do find something fun to do, like go to a movie, or go hiking and take some pictures, I get tired of those activities after a while. Variety is the spice of life, but there's only so much variety one can experience before things repeat. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. No matter what I do, “Repeat” always makes a comeback. Lather. Scrub. Rinse. Repeat. No matter what I do, “Repeat” always makes a comeback.

It is nice to have a schedule, and to know where my next paycheck is coming from. At the same time, planning dates in advance has made one year indistinguishable from the next. I'm playing a July 16th feast in Brooklyn because there's always a July 16th feast in Brooklyn. The only difference is that last year it fell on a Thursday and this year it's on a Friday. The day of the week doesn't matter. Once I'm on familiar streets with familiar people playing familiar songs, it might as well be a Saturday. The only thing I'll have a sense of for certain is that it's Summer, because I'll be very hot. At least we picked up a new gig Friday night that we've never played before, and I'm playing with yet another band on Saturday morning for a gig that might be new. It's all a blur sometimes, so when I get there I probably will remember doing the same thing last year.

I think it damages one's perception of time when the range of variety gets too narrow. Obviously we all need safe boundaries, and there's wisdom in planning the future. But in a way it makes life a little shorter, emotionally rather than literally. College seems like yesterday, but I'm in my mid-thirties. My cousin's wife is throwing him a surprise FIFTIETH birthday party next month. When did that happen? I think that's the confusing part, that our surroundings and routine might stay the same, but we're all still getting older. Inside we might feel the same, while a mirror might tell a more shocking story.

Life is a cycle of cycles. We have jobs until they bore us or grow bored of us, and then we get new ones. We have friends until they bore us or grow bored of us, and then we get new ones. We have hobbies until they bore us, and then we get new ones. And it happens over, and over, and over again. Round and round we go; when we stop, nobody kn