Hey Ya and grey hairs

The other day, while washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed, what I think were a couple of grey hairs in my beard. I wanted to think that they are blonde. I checked my sideburns and they are light, either blonde or grey. I could have sworn they were blonde, but under this light, they look silver.

I’m sure that when I trim my beard, it will look like a blonde hair mixed with the reds, browns and blacks. My beard is weird, it has colors that aren’t present anywhere on my head. But grey isn’t one of them.

I was at the gym the other day, and in the middle if my workout, Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” came on. I remember the exact first time I heard the song. I was a senior in college working with a group of twelve people on our Graphic Design capstone class. We were creating an interactive CD with video from department events edited as best as we could. We threw a couple of songs at it to make it a little more interesting, one of which was a series of very catchy Japanese jazz songs, which every agreed were good, but not quite right. I still have the Japanese jazz songs and love them, the melodic and surprisingly bombastic Japanese woman over a drum and bass heavy jazz combo have really stuck with me, but the group didn’t agree.

They threw “Hey Ya!” in to the timeline. It was perfect. It encapsulated our senior year in college, it was up beat, exciting and new. The project, which hinged on this video, could be finished.

Fast forward to last week.

I am cranking out some heavy dead lifts and that song comes on, still peppy, and bubble gum enough to get me through my last two sets. And then it hit me.

“Hey Ya!” is ten years old.

That means I am ten years beyond college. That means that I have been working for ten years. That means that it has been five years since my daughter was born. “Hey Ya!” Is a perfect marker of time.

“Hey Ya!” is ten years old.

That means that I am not invincible with youth, that means that my midline isn’t going to stay the way it was. That means my wedding was nine years ago and I have never been as nervous (or drunk) as I was the night before. That means that I am getting old.

“Hey Ya!” is ten years old, and I am noticing grey hairs in my beard. Part of me is saddened, the other part of me is proud. There are things that would have done differently in the ten years since the song came out, but I wouldn’t trade the time for anything.

Now, what cooler than being cool?

Ice cold!

I can’t hear ya! I say what’s, what’s cooler than being cool?

Ice cold!

[W]hat’s cooler than being cool?

Growing old…?