I spent part of my last few minutes of being 20 years old watching a powerful thunderstorm roll overhead, shaking the house and soaking everything outside. I love these storms.

All I could do was stand at the window and watch in awe of nature as such energy flowed through the atmosphere. It was firing off great arcs of lightning that made the earth flicker brighter than daylight then releasing great reports of thunder as if light and sound were competing for better Nielson Ratings.

It was like a reminder from God. I may be 21, a man in the eyes of the law and my father, but I am still just one tiny being in a world that is there only because of the will of the creator. It said to me that the house I was standing in was still there only because God wished it to be there, and all he had to do to change that was a slight tweaking of air pressure and nothing else. I may be a cocky 21-year-old, but I still have much to do and there is far much more out there greater than I.

It's been a great 21 years, especially the last three. In fact, I don't think I really started living until about three years and a month ago, before then I was just coasting along without purpose. Today, I have some idea of what I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm working on it. I'm happy about that.

As I understand it, there are a few groups of my friends conspiring to get me drunk tonight. That's to be expected, I suppose.

This should be interesting.