I think its safe to say I don’t know what I’m doing. Anyone that thinks I do, well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m pulling a fast one on you. It’s all a trick, an illusion, a sleight of hand. I’m quite a terrible liar, too, so shame on you for not figuring me out faster. Here we are, nonetheless, entrenched in a new website. What am I doing? I suppose that’ll be a work in progress. I’m 29 years old and I still feel like a big kid. It’s the end of my 20’s, which I suppose means that I’m technically an adult, but what the hell makes me an adult? I can drive, pay taxes, sell alcohol to people. I suppose I’m here to catalog (or web log, or blog!) the last remaining days of my youth. Sooner or later I’ll stop being wowed by trees and treehouses and empty corridors of buildings where I imagine ghosts live. That might be tomorrow or the day after or if I’m lucky, never. But here it is. Watch it unfold. If ever I complain about the tax code, my 401k, and whether to settle in Boca Raton or Myrtle Beach we’ll know I’ve come to the end. Though Savannah don’t sound too shabby.