Since my columns are about my life, I recently grew somewhat concerned when I noticed some of my writing is less than exciting. Upon considering the repercussions of such an epiphany, I was tempted in the direction of an identity crisis. Suddenly I wondered if those people who say, "Get a life," might be talking about me.

However, before entering a crisis mode, I decided to use the opportunity to look over my life with a broader view. Hindsight is the best way to get to the bottom of things, I say.

So I listed a few changes that I noticed in my life and compared them with other periods.

My first realization was that I have indeed started going to bed and getting up at times I would have once constituted as boring. I usually turn in around 10 p.m. and get up by 6 a.m., even on weekends. Needless to say, I never see The Late Show anymore and The Late, Late Show is little more than a distant memory.

I can remember being a teenager and staying up late and feeling like I was doing something cool. In order to be a self-respecting teenager, one has to stay up to (at least) midnight on weekends and within an hour of that through the week. I can also remember getting up at 7:30 and trying to get to school on time, barely able to find a parking space and amble into the building, hopefully prior to the bell.

After that, I went through most of the ‘roaring 20s' staying up late for other reasons entirely. I don't suppose I want to go into all that right now, but there's always more than one motivating factor in the life of a single man of 20-something. Most of them end up offering little meaning to life.

Now, instead of waking up late with pain relievers and cold pizza, I like to enjoy my coffee time and sit and reflect quietly in the morning. I suppose the yawning 30s are just one of those times when we realize that it might be more important to get a good night's sleep than it is to watch stupid pet tricks or attend social functions at the homes of people with inappropriate names like "Dog" or "Spike." To some degree, all learning is trial and error.

I noticed that my guitar preference has changed from really loud distorted electric to acoustic. Really loud and distorted is reserved now for special occasions, like when I see other people with whom I used to play such music. We try to slip into our old personalities for awhile sometimes, but we usually end up wistfully remembering and moving on to our more current lives. It is hard to be a rebel with a receding hairline, although some still pull it off nicely. Look at the Stones. They are almost as old as real rocks.

I also find I am growing quieter. So, if you think I am loud now, you should have known me years ago. You would have needed ear plugs. I think I will reach a reasonable level in my 40s, just in time to start getting loud again as my hearing goes. With some of the things I did to my hearing, it might not even last that long.

Another difference that I wouldn't have appreciated as a young man is my haircut. Now I try to keep my hair trimmed short, not because I have to, but because it is easier. I don't really have the motivation to do anything fancy. I prefer the simple to the stylish. In a way, I suppose I stopped caring what other people think about my appearance and care more about how they feel about my character. Yes, gone are the days of flowing locks, some of which, now much shorter and more sparse, find their way into the drain of the shower each morning.

I have also found that things I once thought were useless were really just things I didn't understand at one time in my life. For instance, at one time my Sunday mornings were spent recovering from Saturday night. More and more often, I find myself sitting in a pew somewhere near the middle of the hometown church. There was a time when I didn't think I would ever find myself there. Now, the more I read the directions, the easier it seems to be to put it all together.

The closest I get to sleeping on Sunday mornings now is sometimes wondering why people who most likely didn't have a wild Saturday night nod off in the middle of "I'm on the Rock" or, at this time of the year, "We Three Kings." However, I try not to judge, realizing that life is a journey and I am probably just not there yet. I did yawn Sunday while singing a particularly trying version of "The Little Drummer Boy," but it was purely involuntary, I assure you.

My life today would seem boring to the youth I once was, but it has something I didn't have then — some semblance of meaning. I suppose we all find it in our own way, but these days I try to find mine from within rather than from what is around me.

Perhaps this aging fellow I see in the mirror with lines growing and deepening around his eyes is still much the same. But in many ways, he is a new creature entirely.

To sum it up, I don't think he is boring at all, just different.

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