Why, hello.

I'm 23 years old. Some days I feel 33 and others I feel 13. Of course most days I feel 23, otherwise things would be weird. Or rather, even weirder than they are. I have a daughter now and it's a strange thing to say. I try to write as much as my other distractions will allow. I live for singing and my former roommates will tell you that the shower is my Carnegie Hall. I drink much more than I should and fall way, WAY too hard for members of the female gender. I have always had an issue with blogging, as I never much cared for it or understood why it happened. Now look at me! Mommy, mommy; look no hands!

I guess my issue with blogging is that I don't really know why anyone would care to read it. Then I think, what does it say about me that I want people to read what I have to say. Then I think, what is it that I have to say. Then I think, why I am I still thinking this. I suppose it comes down to the dual fact that I like writing and I like attention. It took my a while to come to terms with the latter, not so much the former. I always thought I was a humble and modest person and maybe that's because everyone in my life has always told me that. But boy, do I have a narcissistic streak.

If you make it past this first post with me, you'll start to see a theme. I live in a world where up routinely trades places with down, where thoughts are pooped out in fragments onto a page and then reworked and reworked and reworked until normal people can read them, where decisions get made that, well, just shouldn't be made. I like my life. I really do, but sometimes I fall flat. Very flat.

I mentioned I have a daughter. She is 4 months old (wow!) and more beautiful than I could ever hope. Clearly this is an important aspect of my life, especially since I'm just now trying to reconcile my two lives: that of the patient, responsible, loving father and that of the destructive, but amiable drunken wanderer. Which, FINALLY, brings us to the name of the blog. Growing up isn't easy and I've never really done it. Now I have to.

Yay.

I've always been one to need a swift kick in the pants to do anything and boy, if this isn't one I may as well pack it in. My daughter is the reason I'm moving from the greatest city in the country (New York City) to...Los Angeles. My daughter is the reason I no longer have the ill-advised and, you guessed it, narcissistic dream of joining the 27 Club (members include Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison). My daughter is the reason I'm attempting to refrain from that extra whiskey and that extra phone number. She's even the reason behind me blogging, though this is NOT going to be one of those blogs about my kid. Just to warn you.

I'm on a train from Vermont to New York City right now as I write this and I'm starting to get excited about my future. If you want to know my follies and exploits and triumphs and pain and joy and behavioral issues, come along for the ride with me. Your driver is blind, but this car sure has a ton of fun.

'Til next time.