The gentleman who runs the little market I frequent near my office happened to catch a glimpse of my drivers license while I was rooting around for change. “Wow, ” he said. “How long? 10 years? More! You were so young!” What the…?!?!! I was crushed! I’ve always been the one who didn’t look my age. What the hell is going on here? Granted the picture is 20 years old but I haven’t changed that much, have I??!!! Well…HAVE I?!!!. Shit. Shit. Shit! My young, funky, sense of style aside, I ain’t getting any younger. Damn it! Ok, take a breath. I could take this moment to point out that the Japanese have an art form called Kintsugi, repairing broken pottery with gold or silver lacquer, thus rendering it more beautiful for having broken….Nope, not feelin’ it. I’ve got no soul-searching or self-awareness. No wit or wisdom. No prose or pith. Pissed, however I’ve got. I’m pissed. Old and pissed.