So I found another gray hair this morning. In my beard. That makes number two. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t go all out trying to pluck it. But just as I got a decent fingernail grip on the little bastard, I glanced up, saw its older brother, and gave up. I’ll just shave later.

This coming March, of 2016 (God willing I make it in this city), I will turn 40 years old. I’m in just as much shock and awe as you, trust me. Back in my teen years, when I thought I was important and invincible (which I still think I am a little of both), I couldn’t imagine living four decades on this planet. Not that I lived a reckless life or suffered from any form of Tupac Syndrome, I just didn’t have the ability nor desire to envision my life so far in…