I had a rough transition into adulthood to say the least. In retrospect I had just become comfortable with life and my identity as a post pubescent teenager when adulthood was unceremoniously thrust upon me. A sort of violent, petulant reaction festered deep inside me as a result of this, leading to a prolonged pseudo adolescent stage that made strange bedfellows with my fully formed and fairly astute (if I do say so myself) adult intellect. Because of this, I have a hyper neurotic self awareness which informs my half-assed attempts to accomplish what it is I think an adult is suppose to do in life, though virtually none of it comes naturally. As a result, my entire "adult" life is like that of a gifted 11 year old boy engaged in an exceedingly prolonged improv performance after receiving the suggested word "adulthood" from the crowd. I am, as coined by an ex-girlfriend long gone from my life due in no small part to my often puerile ways, a Manboy. These are my memoirs.
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