It was a day like any other, except it was my birthday, and I reached the beginning of my fourth decade on this glorious ball of dirt. I dreaded this birthday like I dreaded my 25th, my 30th, my 35th, and my 39th. However, there was a certain amount of resignation from the whole deal.
I've been shown over the past year how fleeting life can be, so I've kinda thrown my hands up. No, I'm not giving up on life, I've just given up on buggin' out over the inevitable.
Does that mean I'm happier about the passage of time? Getthefuckouttahere. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be alive, more so than I have been in the past three years. But, if you think I greeted this day with open fuckin' arms, you're dead wrong. No, I wasn't a knuckle-dragging sad sack. Just quiet, y'know? Reserved. I just let it happen to me. And it was fine.
I talked to my man Chris Pointon last Friday (we were doing our Draw Mob thing) about the turning 40 thing, and he talked about how he got through it by not looking at his life as a list of accomplishments, but a series of experiences. That worked for me. I've done some cool shit and seen some cool shit.
I hope there's more cool shit to come. God-willin', I'll be around to see it.
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