Written by Tim Bueter

Why?

It's a legitimate question…

After all this time, why get back into it?

Simple.

Blame it on the girl.

Yeah, I know…another chapter in THAT old story…

But in this particular case, it happens to be mostly true.

Of course, it might help you to understand this story if you know a bit of the history involved...

I'll keep this short and sweet.

Promise...

I spent a number of years playing drums and howling in the rock n' roll bush leagues, looking for a "big break" that never came.

Along the way, we had some kicks, did some good things, and accomplished more than most clueless crews from Toledo, Ohio have a right to expect. We played in front of a lot of people, saw a lot of places, made some good friends, gained some minor acclaim…

But eventually, it reached a point where finding the motivation to continue driving ten hours to play for fifteen people, getting paid fifty dollars, and (if we were lucky…) being "awarded" a wood floor to sleep on had really lost its appeal.

And so it ended.

And I swear to God that, at that point, I really thought that that part of my life was DONE, and I was pretty OK with it.

Honest…

With no real point of destination on the horizon, I decided to go back to school and earn myself one of those pieces of paper that PROVED that I was relatively smart, learned, and generally, of some value to the world.

I had long since shorn my mop of hair in favor of a neat "regular-guy-do," and was able to move pretty much unnoticed through the grown-up world.

But settling into, or finding a place in that world wasn't quite as easy as I'd thought it might be.

No matter what road I went down, I kept reaching the conclusion that there was just something missing, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly WHAT that something was.

While I was aware that music still meant a lot to me, I was all too aware of the expectation that you're supposed to put aside those silly things of childhood, when you enter the "adult" period of your life, right?

While I was able to find a minor outlet for my mounting frustrations---ranting and raving (with the requisite heaps o' Tim-style and Tim-attitude) for a couple of local 'zines…it just wasn't enough.

The creative fires that had once threatened to burn me down had been too long untended, and they were petering dangerously toward "out".

At this point, constant repetition of the mantra,"This is adult life, it's not SUPPOSED to be interesting," was offering me little-to-no comfort.

DAMN.

NO WONDER I had resisted traveling the road to commonness for so long.

Things took an unexpected, but altogether necessary, turn on a particular Sunday morning in the spring of 2000.

There I was, selling the latest hours of my life, working the early shift, occupying space in a cubicle with my name on it, watching the phone not ring as tumbleweeds blew through the call center.

OK…OK…I'm getting to the damn point.

As I was saying…before I was so rudely interrupted…on THIS PARTICULAR Sunday morning, I was returning from the breakroom and the place was still pretty dead, when out of nowhere, a brand new face, seated near one of the veteran worker drones, caused me to stop by asking, "Please don't think I'm weird, but where did you get your pants?"

Hmmmmmm, I thought…OK…you ARE weird…BUT…you're also kinda cute, and I REALLY like the sound of your voice, SO I will grant you this moment of my precious time to answer your silly inquiry, with minimal wisecracks and/or surly morning attitude.

On my best "talking to a pretty girl" behavior, I exchanged pleasantries/small talk/chit chat with her for a minute or two before returning to my home cubicle.

As I leaned back in my chair, a combination of the strange way she curled her lips when she talked, her eyes that despaired when she smiled and the little teacup ears that she tucked her hair behind had me thinking, "She is either REALLY damn cute or kinda funny looking…"

For about three seconds I drifted in the fog, pondering this point, before reaching the conclusion that it was, without a doubt, the FORMER rather than the latter.

At that EXACT MOMENT, the ceiling opened, and 2000 pounds of kindling came crashing down on my head, followed by a wave of gasoline that washed over me like a tsunami.

Without intention, or so much as a clue, the new girl then smiled, or tossed a match...

I can't really remember anymore...

But it really doesn't matter, anyway.

Looking back on it, I understand that those who AREN'T ME probably think that the two years that followed amounted to a whole lot of nothing good. They witnessed the frustration, the confusion, the torment, and heartaches.

I witnessed it too.

Up close.

But, strange as it seems, at this point in time, ALL I really feel is gratitude that she provided me with the almighty inspiration that helped me come back to some really REALLY important things that I had lost track of too damn long ago.

Feeling the way I did about her reminded me just what caring passionately about anyone or anything felt like. It awoke me from what had threatened to become a life-consuming sleepwalk, and, in the process, inadvertently reminded me of the way I used to feel about music.

The way I STILL FELT about music.

I can now say, without reservation, that that "putting aside the things of childhood" bit is absolute BULLSHIT.

At least for me, it is.

That fateful morning, an alarm went off in my brain, and my world started spinning again. I finally realized that the exact things that some people dismiss as "childish" are the exact things that make other people live.

"I thought that I had gotten past it," I later admitted to fellow rock guy Special K, over a pizza one night at Gino's.

"Why would you want to? If I didn't do this, I'd just be…SOME GUY," he answered incredulously.

Those words are still ringing in my ears.

Music has always been a part of me. Since I was a little kid and first danced to the music on the radio, it has always made me feel RIGHT.

Connected.

Not alone in the world.

It is something that has always burned inside me, and pretending that it doesn't… well…that doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense.

It makes absolutely no difference whatsoever whether I burn down the world with my songs or create just enough heat to keep myself warm when the rest of the world turns so damn cold.

Here I am.

This is what I do, (with a whole lotta help from some really good, talented, friends/kindred spirits)

Welcome to it...

Tim

The Wide Awakes are:
Tim Bueter - Songwriting, Vocals
Adam Renchen - Drums
Brandon Boltz - Bass, Vocals
Liz Owens Boltz - Rhythm Guitar, Vocals