Life gets weird sometimes. I mean, really weird. When my calendar looks like a crime scene (red everywhere), and my brain feels like a browser with a thousand tabs open, I turn to music. It’s my escape hatch, my therapy, my way of coping when socks go missing, and my brain keeps asking what’s for dinner at 8 AM.
Lately, I’ve been working on new songs. Some are “100 percent human”, just me, fueled by caffeine and a stubborn refusal to read the instruction manual. Others are a little more…experimental. I write the lyrics, then let AI help with the background music. My robot collaborator? I call him HAL, after the computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Not because he’s planning to lock me out of the airlock (I hope), but because sometimes when I listen to the AI’s music, I get that same feeling as the Discovery spaceship: floating in a decaying orbit, the crew mysteriously silent, and the only thing left alive is the robot. (If you haven’t seen the movie, let’s just say things don’t end well for the astronauts. Or the ship. Or, frankly, anyone with a pulse trying to endure watching the movie.)
The other day in choir, I told the group about my “100 percent human” tracks. One member grinned and said, “That’s like Soylent Green!, which made me laugh, because my son and I have this running joke where we’ll randomly shout “IT’S PEOPLE!” at each other. If anyone overheard us, they’d probably call someone. But that’s family for you: half in-jokes, half chaos, and all love.
Looking back, those are the things I remember, the weird little shared memories that make up a life. Not the gadgets, not the money, but the moments when you can look at someone across the room and both burst out laughing because you’re both thinking about the same movie quote from 1973. Proverbs says it well:
> “Better a dry crust with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting, with strife.” (Proverbs 17:1)
Give me the dry crust, the off-key singing, the inside jokes, and the space station in a slow spin. Because at the end of the day, the best things we give our families aren’t things at all. They’re the memories, the music, and the moments where we’re all on the same wavelength, even if the rest of the world thinks we’re speaking in code.
So whether my next song is 100 percent human, or just mostly, I hope you find your outlet. And when life gets crazy, I hope you find yourself laughing with the people who matter most, even if you have to name your robot HAL and shout “IT’S PEOPLE!” just for the fun of it.
Stay weird, stay musical, and remember: shared memories are the best kind of treasure, even if the spaceship’s spinning a little and the AI’s got a mind of its own.
Trust that God is with you always, and He loves you in the chaos.
We love you all
Randy and Susan
