Attack Of The Mid-Life Crisis?

Not really. Well... Maybe.

See... The average life expectancy of a white male born in 1972 is 68.3 years. I realized that, as of last Sunday (my 40th birthday,) I've lived well over half my expected lifespan. Nearly two thirds of it, in fact.

That doesn't particularly horrify me, or make me maudlin, but if you know me, then you probably know that I am a relatively recent (in the past few years or so) convert of the Cult Of Done. I exist, now, to Get. Shit. Done.

And I've got a lot of shit to get done.

I just completed my 2nd geek album Barbarian Jetpack, and I've begun working on an EP (at least, maybe a full album) of songs inspired by the novel American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I have at least half a dozen or so new songs/ideas kicking around in my head that wouldn't remotely fit on that album, and I'm moving to work on those. I've nearly completed my first coloring book (no, really.) I'm (still) making a living as a traveling comedian and performing at sci-fi/fantasy/comic book/rpg/geek conventions every month or so as well. I just finished washing EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DISH IN THIS HOUSE,  I'm a co-host on two podcasts (Postcards From The Dungeon and Pros & Cons) and I'm here to announce that by the middle of next week, I'll be the host of yet ANOTHER podcast: The Beer Powered Time Machine. Click the link to learn more, but it is, essentially, a celebration of good beer, storytelling, and personal histories.

You see, as I'm getting older, I realized that among the things I value most are sharing beers and stories with my friends. And that's what the podcast is about.

It's vulgar at times, poignant at others (though significantly less often, much like myself.)

And it'll be a lot of fun. I've been working on it, and it's about to get done. You've been warne--er--notified.