Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes:

Being in my thirties now, I have seen over ten thousand todays turn into yesterdays. If it were possible to go back through the archives, one would find that many of them seem to blend with each other. As much as I strive, and would presume others strive, to make every day unique, it is difficult to avoid feeling as though most of our yesterdays are nondescript, unable to be distinguished from each other in all but the most minute ways. The same could not be said of my most recent yesterday, which saw me sitting in a waiting room for three hours to get a physical that only took about three minutes, plus one more hour of waiting for the results. If one good thing came out of it, it wasn't discovering that I am 'morbidly obese'. Of course, this is nothing to alert the media over, as I've been overweight since my childhood; for what it's worth I can put a seatbelt on when I get in someone's vehicle, so to me that's a small victory. And yet, becoming small would be my biggest victory. The irony is delicious, much like the many chocolate cakes I have successfully fought off the temptation to purchase during periodic visits to my local supermarket. No, the one thing that made it all worthwhile was being approved by my doctor for assisted living, as it brings me one step closer to moving into a new community, which Evelyn and others have put in work for months to make possible. But somehow it feels bittersweet, realizing that I will be saying goodbye to my neighborhood and all of the people I've come to know before this year is over. My mind has developed a tendency over the years, through logic, through common sense, through the impact that the words and actions of others have, to put things in a certain perspective. It's up to you, the reader, to make a determination on your own as to whether my perspectives are sound, for I am rarely the type to speak positively of myself in any sense. It is one of many dilemmas I have faced over the years, a mental struggle in which my mind engages. I know it is not good to speak ill of yourself, but at the same time I have always believed that being too self-complimentary can evolve into arrogance, into narcissism, into the feeling that you are above other people. Each day I go to war with my own mind, as I feel thoughts travel into my brain, manifested through multiple variables, various sources of stimulation. At the age of thirty-one, I still feel the desire to become an emcee, but do not carry with it any dreams of fame and fortune. I have seen what happens to emcees in the industry, not just in hip-hop but in all facets of entertainment. I am a marketing team's nightmare: receding hairline, more salt-and-pepper than those who were roadies for Salt-n-Pepa in the 1990s, overweight, awkward, and uninterested in molding my style to fit any mainstream aesthetic. It's very difficult for me to rhyme about wine, women, and song without it feeling forced. I rarely write rhymes about the 'typical' topics most rappers cover anyway: rarely if ever will you find girls, guns, drugs, etc. incorporated into my lyrical repertoire. The few times I have ventured to explore such a cookie-cutter aesthetic were either at the behest of a friend after a significant amount of persuasion, or in an ironic, self-aware way that was meant to shine a light on the nature of the 'beast'. I have a style that is technically my own, but in reality was heavily influenced by a multitude of emcees. If I can say one good thing about this current generation of rappers, it is that many of them are innovators not so much in what they do with their rhymes, but with how their rhymes 'flow'. I've listened to a few modern rappers, sometimes out of morbid curiosity and in other cases through perils of proximity, initiated by others' desire to let their minds get swept away by the instrumentals, which of course I'll always respect. I don't consider myself a snob in any sense when it comes to music. Naturally, there are certain sounds I am more inclined to gravitate towards, but I'll always listen to a track at least once, even if that means hearing the first few seconds then turning it off. I can say with certainty that on those occasions where I am unable to advance past those opening seconds it always has something to do with the sonic aesthetic. A certain instrument, a certain processing effect, would have to be genuinely unpleasant to my ears for me to abandon a song so quickly. There are some--actually, quite a few--songs I've heard over the years that are basically irredeemably horrible which I was still able to listen to from beginning to end, just because some of the sounds were pleasant to my ears, or none were unpleasant. Some songs are so neutral they could be adopted as alternative national anthems by the Swiss. As a lyricist, my style is primarily informed by the Treacherous Three, notably their 1985 single "Gotta Rock". As they had come to the end of their recording contract with Sugarhill Records, they had free rein to make this last record whatever they wanted it to be, and used it as an opportunity to not only give the listeners one last reminder of their status in hip-hop, but also set the stage for the many emcees whose beginnings came with their ending. Though Kool Moe Dee, best known to casual music fans as the man who gave us "Wild Wild West" and "I Go To Work", was de facto leader, it was always Special K who stood out most in my mind, with his collegiate vocabulary and abstract, off-beat patterns that are demonstrated remarkably on "Gotta Rock". If a paternity test were to be done on my style of rap, you would find that Special K has the dominant gene, with other traces of DNA coming from T La Rock, KRS-One, Chuck D, and the Ultramagnetic MCs. Looking back through most of the rhymes I've written, I find that a lot of them tend to fall into the 'I rap better than you' territory. Some people are not going to agree with me when I say this, but I believe that once an emcee is in their thirties, there is almost a civic responsibility for us 'old-timers' to take our brains, and the listeners' brains, to a higher place. I'm not saying every song has to be about knowledge, wisdom and understanding, but our repertoire needs to be more than sex and violence. Simultaneously, we must consider whether our goal in the industry is to explore styles, or serve as educators. Some are meant to be like Kool Keith and Rakim, emcees who have always had intelligent things to say but gave more focus to bringing new styles to the forefront, while others are meant to educate, to have the courage to make statements that no one else would have dared to make, such as KRS-One claiming Jesus was black on "Why Is That?", or Chuck D dissing John Wayne and Elvis Presley on his seminal "Fight the Power". Of course, there is nothing saying an emcee can't do both, and perhaps no one in history has exemplified this more than the great Grandmaster Melle Mel. Mel is essentially the genesis of everything we do with our rhymes today. He was one of the first emcees to use a microphone for a purpose greater than leading the audiences in call-and-response, or making announcements that some poor, unfortunate victim had his car towed away from the show premises. He added a poetic element that was not there before, exemplifying it on tracks such as "The Message", "Beat Street Breakdown" and the astonishingly prophetic "World War III". Mel was able to educate with rhymes, though he also primarily stayed in the wheelhouse of being a better emcee than his competition. At the end of the day, I feel that if an emcee sticks to what they are good at, and works to perfect their understanding of other topics, it is through their hard work that they can succeed so long as they stay authentic. These days the industry is experiencing a saturation that has never existed before in history as we have transitioned from hip-hop being a niche culture, with only a few hundred emcees in the whole world, to there being at least a billion emcees worldwide. In the long run, I believe that authenticity will prevail over commercialism, and with the oversaturation that exists, an even greater impetus exists to stand out from the others. But it will be a while before we get to the point where this authenticity is rewarded, as we are still in the midst of witnessing a decline that has steadily been going on since the mid-1990s. It started out slow, then snowballed over the next few decades, eventually metamorphosing into what we are seeing now. Rappers are promoted through marketing machines, their stories fabricated completely or in some areas embellished to make them palatable to consumers, and the irony is that if I may be so bold as to say so, a lot of the rappers who are popular now can't rap. As Kool Keith said on his track "Bust the Facts", which in a supreme irony was a retrospect on the 'foundation' era of hip-hop spanning from roughly 1978 to 1985, "they had some good emcees, a lot of them, they was weak/ They had no style with no metaphor, no voice to speak." They say that history books are written by the ones who win the wars, and it does seem that looking back on the foundational era of hip-hop, most of what we hear about that history was written by those who made it, and made it big. There are untold numbers of emcees whose stories will never have a light shined on them, forever destined to remain in obscurity. Going back to the earliest days of hip-hop, from tape recordings dating as far back as 1977 to the first rap records, you will hear the voices and words of emcees who, try as they did, were unable to break out and become recognized figures in the culture. Though I must agree with Kool Keith when he says that a lot of them indeed had "no style with no metaphor", for however mundane their explorations of the subject matter that interested them were, they had an advantage over the majority of rappers today in the sense that even when they didn't make the wheel turn, no less reinvent it, they still had something to say. I find that the majority of rappers today hide behind the instrumentals to mask the fact that their rhymes are, to quote the late Bender of Flight Distance, "Corny, tasteless / Average, boring, basic / Bland and formulaic / Vastly short of greatness." Expanding from there, it is almost as if the beat has become the emcee itself, and the emcee has been confined to a background role. Somehow, an emcee is no longer a star in their own show. Kool Moe Dee, on his album "Funke Funke Wisdom", made some very astute observations about the direction in which rap was going. On one song, "Here We Go Again", he summed up everything going on now in two bars: "The way they feel, I could be erased / All they want is you to pump that bass." All of Moe Dee's albums were released between 1986 and 1994, during a time period that is seen in retrospect as the greatest in the history of hip-hop, but even then he saw signs of what the industry ultimately turned into.