Hear me Apollo…


Well… Hello there, true believer… I suppose it’s time to return to my weekly exercise in blogging. I wish I had something really profound to hit you with in the brain box. Something aligned with something spectacular like the first time an Apollo mission reemerged into earthly, communicative reach from the mysterious dark and far side of the moon. But alas I do not have something so admirable for us today.

When I last left off I had expressed some anxiety over the condition of Violet, my yet born daughter’s development. We had been notified that a “soft marker” had been identified in her first ultrasounds and spent about two weeks flipping out in silent, segmented chaotic realizations that we are NOT in control, have NEVER been in control, and will never BE in control- and we just have to learn to get used to the facts and appreciate each other and what we DO have. Because otherwise it’s just going to get worse and we don’t have one damn thing to look forward to EVER in our self important lives. So… that’s a lot to take in, and impossible to do in one go. Violet’s condition, whatever it may be, only highlights that fact and is just the tip of an immense iceberg of uncomfortable truth. Any expectations or hopes we may have are just an over publicized ocean liner dumbly churning through a dark and frigid sea of human condition. Just waiting to have it’s belly opened and contents dumped, wailing intentions in the night and into the frozen lonely abyss without so much as an echo. And with any luck, after you are swallowed by the earth and your lofty hopes are forgotten and rendered irrelevant to the living, MAYBE someday someone will at least know just what the hell happened.

I think I’ve been out in the cold just a little too long, because I feel a bit numb to report to you that the doctor gave her a 98% chance of being perfectly perfect. When I learned that, I knew enough and was aware enough to be relieved. and I WAS relieved. But honestly I haven’t really had much of a chance to FEEL relieved. In all honesty, I’m just as stressed out and frustrated as before… and not at much liberty to discuss… maybe I’m still on the dark side of the moon after all… waiting to emerge into some light to be admired and communicate with my home.


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Posted by on August 30, 2013 in Uncategorized


hold on tight…


Hello there true believer.

It’s that time again. Yes it’s time for another thrilling installment of the Continental blog that has absolutely nothing to do with anything continental! It has taken it’s own damn direction like this thing called life as the world spins madly on! Yes kids the hit’s just keep on coming and the hearts just keep on breaking as the roller coaster takes another white knuckled dive before its slow and deliberate climb once again to heights unknown… when she drops, nobody knows! So clench those teeth, hold that breath, and don’t get too comfortable! Cause’ you’re in the jungle baby! And you’re gonna die!

That’s pretty much what I’m feeling lately and let me tell you why. Last week I was in a waking state of uter and absolute blissful euphoria. My wife Melanie and I received the joyful news that we are expecting a daughter and that if we didn’t hear anything by Monday, then we were to operate under the assumption that her development was just swell. Well, I guess swelling went down… because Melanie received a call from the doctor on wednesday to let us know that they had detected something known as a “soft marker” in her level I ultrasounds.

A “soft marker” is a term used to indicate possible risks of chromosomal abnormalities in pregnancies. In laymen’s terms, it’s a way to see if your baby is going to have downs syndrome or not. Some of these soft markers are shortened femurs, lack of a nasal bone, renal (kidney) dilation, nuchal translucency (a thick watery pocket on the neck) etc… It turns out that our growing baby, Violet has some dilation in her kidneys and we are scheduled for a level II ultrasound on the 19th of August.

Yep… the giddy bubble popped. When I heard that, it was like the wonderful broadcast of my perception suddenly flashed with technical difficulties of human angst. The program just….. stopped….. and autopilot intellect switched on, leaving the viewing audience of my soul to wonder who the hell just changed the channel? The world went about it’s chaotic business with no concern for my paternal plight which left me frozen in my tracks. One second there I was in my mind with my perfect little daughter standing on my feet and holding my hands for balance as we plodded down the hallway together…. and the next minute I was staring at my special needs daughter trying to picture her as a “normal” kid and wondering how I could free the person locked in that mind. Which made me feel a twinge of shame.

My younger brother is developmentally disabled, and I’ve honestly always carried a fair amount of guilt for never knowing how to be a better brother to his special needs. I remember times when I was a kid and my dad would scold me because he caught me staring at him for a moment, just trying to figure out what was going on in there. It brings a shudder to my heart to think how uncomfortable my prying, staring eyes must have made him in those moments, and the possible emotional or psychological effect it had. I don’t know if he even remembers anything like that but it still matters to me. The shame to think that I would catch myself doing the same thing to my own daughter just elicits a split second compulsion to self destruct. I don’t want her too EVER feel that brand of alienation from everyone else around her or feel like I have been the cause of it.

The doctor told Melanie that we should specifically NOT google anything about the Violet’s soft marker of renal dilation because we would only end up working ourselves up and freaking ourselves out. But this is America by God and using the media to work ourselves up and freak ourselves out is something we now do better than cheeseburgers, and we will simply not be denied that basic right. So in the name of fear and instant gratification, google we must and google we did. With confounded exasperation we turned our squinted layman eyes to other folk’s grainy ultrasound scans to compare with our own and found nothing of any note. Jose can you see? No sir, I can not. How the radiologists can use these grainy smudges to discern a pair of dilated kidneys from healthy ones was beyond us. We’d have better luck reading tea leaves in the dark than even trying to locate a single kidney in the handful of spotty black and white images stuck to our refrigerator door. However, the majority of information gathered from online message boards indicated that this soft marker is actually a very common occurrence in the gestation of countless healthy babies, but that did nothing to talk me down from my cliff. Aside from my own genuine and stubborn concern, other literature designed to psychologically prepare parents spoke of different stages of grief upon learning of an oncoming special needs child- the first stage being denial. So though I am told that Violet is probably okay, my fear has just been reinforced by a backup generator of despair telling me not to entertain any denial.

The ironic thing is that any practice or questioning of self awareness seems to be an act of denial in itself. Because already this week I have caught myself multiple times projecting my angry fear onto other small and meaningless situations. When not glazed over like a gasping fish fading from life under a cruel boot, I have been exasperating minor annoyances and making a perfect, self righteous ass of myself. I am grumpy and sensitive and kind of a pain in the ass to be around because I can’t seem to understand why the people in my proximity won’t just act according to my thoughts. Melanie and I have at least been able to come together over it but we have had to check ourselves and each other in order to do so. It’s a stressful thing to be reminded that despite your vision or intention, while you may think you are in the driver’s seat, you are just along for the ride.

I want my daughter to be healthy. Her health is my health and I find myself in a position of helplessness to improve that health with any certainty. Yeah, there’s a good chance that she’s going to be just fine. But that’s not enough because how do I really know? I don’t. I can’t. And no matter how hard I wish, pray and yearn, in all reality my health and hers are not mutually exclusive to one another- not right now anyway. Despite the supplements Melanie and I picked up to possibly help Violet’s kidneys, there’s no way for me to have a direct influence on any outcome. Writing about all of it definitely helps me to actually recognize and process my feelings more clearly in order to not project them onto other situations. It also reminds me of the general promise of love “no matter what” that I have made to the members of my family. I am obligated to fulfill that promise and want nothing more than to do just that. But sometimes the old wood cracks before it bends and that’s kind of scary because they have to rely on me to be a source of confident, unfailing, mental, and physical stability and wellness… and I’m just a man- fallible and along for the ride.



hold on tight…


Posted by on August 13, 2013 in Uncategorized


Looks like a…

Hello there true believer,

My wife and I are expecting a baby and recently learned the sex. We found out on Friday the 2nd of August. Pull up a seat and I’ll give you my reflection of it.

The appointment was at 12:45 I had taken an extra hour and half for lunch. As the week progressed, I had become increasingly anxious to learn ANYTHING about our little creation. So by the time we were in the waiting room on Friday I was a bloodshot mess with gnarled fingernails and a nervous twitch in my eyelid. Throughout the week I had found myself searching for signs and meanings in anything I could. Like a worried chimp intensely staring at the display on a calculator thinking it would either; A.) divulge some sort of understanding of the mystery of his own consciousness, or B.) completely obliterate it from existence if the wrong button was pushed- and all too eager to shriek in terror at the pushing of ANY button in the first place. I tried to in vain to play it cool but Melanie knew I was geeking from a constant state of agitation, and to her credit she didn’t bust my chops about it. I think because she was pretty anxious in her own right to learn at least of our baby’s current state of well being and development.

Eventually we were called back and instructed to follow a nurse/technician lady, so we did just that. In hindsight, I was personally kind of on auto pilot as we walked along, the hallway seeming more tunnel like than anything. Once we were in the little room, I was eager to converse with a learned and scholarly doctor who was ready to dispel any of my natural worries of downs syndrome and divulge the gender, exact height, weight, hair and eye color, as well as personal tastes, politics, and preferences of my wonderful child. I pulled a chair up close to Melanie as she assumed the proper position for the ultrasound procedure. I was a bit miffed to realize the ultrasound technician was grossly unaware that this particular expectant child was in fact the center of the ever-lovin’ universe and unable to provide very much of my required information at all. However, there was one piece of information she did provide that not only answered a question, but also made me realize just how many other questions and uncertainties were swirling in my head – most of which suddenly dropping and falling away with one simple statement… “Looks like a little girl!” I had resigned myself to the technician’s blameless ignorance and staunch regard to liability so when she said “Looks like a little girl!” I missed the beat and the casual declaration flew over my head at first. It was like someone suddenly turned on a light after I had spent an entire night in darkness and I had to blink a little to adjust to my sudden vision.

All of a sudden, we weren’t just having a “baby.” What does that mean anyway? That’s just an abstract concept when placed beside the definitive declaration of “Looks like a little girl!” We are no longer just having a “baby.” We’re having a little girl! Finally equipped with that information, I was riveted to the screen displaying the sonar generated image of the tiny figure growing in my wife. Obsequiously, I humbly implored the technician’s sudden expertise to alert us to any abnormalities that could be seen by her educated and omniscient gaze and she said she would oblige. (We were told that if anything was noticed over the weekend we would be told on Monday and Monday has come and gone!)


I think somehow we knew we were going to have a little girl because we already had a name picked out for one and hadn’t even considered any names for a boy. Violet. Her name name is Violet Lynn Elliott and there were never any other contenders because we just sort of knew. We did however yearn for the confirmation of this procedure. As Melanie endured the poking and prodding of the ultrasound wand, Violet struck a number of poses for the camera, finally to tire out and spitefully turn away once the technician had again become an ignorant imposition. There was one point where she demonstrated her growing bicep muscles and another demonstration of her growing legs.

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When the technician took the image of Violet’s legs, Melanie was reclined back with her hands behind her head and it seemed Violet took a cue from Mommy and struck the same pose which I found particularly aMAZing.

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At this point Violet grew weary of our technician’s intrusion into her space and she turned away from the camera after offering what I imagined to be a swift kick to indicate the expired welcome.

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I tell you, my mind was BLOWN. It was everything Melanie could do not to laugh at me and disrupt the sonic waves that were imaging Violet. Over and over I exclaimed “That’s AMAZING.” as if I were the first person to discover and attempt to articulate the realm of general science.

I have been walking on air for five days now with a euphoric understanding of my own purpose. Thank you Violet.




Posted by on August 6, 2013 in Uncategorized


consistent digital pollution…


Hey there…

So, jumping right into it, I suppose I should acknowledge my sin of lameness that I committed last week while writing and posting in haste. Last week’s most recent post crossed a cheesy line. I should have thought more about it before posting it because when I began I didn’t set out with the sole intent of writing to my unborn child for all the world to see. Because it raises the question, “If it was really for the baby, and not for all the world to witness and feed my massive ego by marveling at my brave and candid “sensitivity” then why post it in the first place? Which is a very, very, good question… To be honest with you, I didn’t feel like there was any audience there in the first place so I didn’t think it would matter and I have to admit that line of thinking was naive and in itself rather egocentric. But you gotta understand, I’m going through a personal soul searching process that kinda freaks people OUT, man.

I’ve got so much to do. SO much to think about. I’ve mentioned it before but it’s very important to me that I see my commitments through. Of the self help fatherhood reading material I have been going through. I’m finding that the most important thing is setting an example of consistency. Consistent consistency. I’m going to make mistakes, yes. And I should be prepared to accept that. But evidently, as long as I try to be consistent, I can forgive myself and be forgiven of those mistakes just a little easier. So I have to be consistent. However, I can’t help but wonder if the odds of my successful example of consistency are stacked against me. I mean, I grew up the same as about half the population of Oklahoma, with the husks and carcasses of old tractors and automobiles casually littered in neighbors yards, fostering teaming wasp nests and tangles of vines, accentuated with old faded beer cans bleached by YEARS in the sun.  Even I myself have a broken down scooter in my garage that has yet to be fixed and returned to its once running form, and it’s been that way for almost a year now! (It needs a new muffler, muffler pin, and probably needs the fluids flushed and replaced.)

I used to have a pretty solid following on facebook, but I burnt out on maintaining that after I got married. The ego feed didn’t seem fair to my obligation to communicate clearly with my wife, Melanie. Plus by the time I walked away from regular hourly posts of self indulgent wit accompanied with an audio file or song by some obscure punk band, it had become so much less about saying anything honest, and more about a shameful and childish need for attention. It all turned out to be just some form of digital pollution. And I honestly wonder if this exercise isn’t far off from that. Anyway, I told myself and my wife when I started this blog that it would be a venue for me to get some writing chops back in fighting form and to tell a story I’ve been working on and showcase some art for it. (Continental Boy is the name of the main character) But all I’ve ended up doing so far is sharing self indulgent confessions of my current life struggles. So right there is another huge inconsistency that I have already begun. So I’m not sure what to do because while I probably only have a handful of readers now, I’m thankful for them and don’t want to confuse them by posting sequential chunks of fiction. I’ve got to be consistent… even for my own personal goals. I need my kid to see me accomplish something in this midwestern sandbox we’re stuck in, not only so they have a reason to be proud of their father, but more so they feel capable of doing the same for themselves.

So… I’m not sure what to do about what I should post on here. Creative fiction? Or real time updates? That being said… Melanie and I have our appointment for an ultrasound this friday and with a little luck we will learn the sex of our baby. Honestly, I’ve become so impatient for this appointment and knowing how he/she is developing, that I don’t even care what the gender or sex is anymore. As long as it is genetically and chromosomally healthy and sound. BUT, once we know what we’re having, we’re going to go buy it’s first set of little clothes! YEAH! That’ll be fun. (I doubt we’ll be having any sort of shower beyond my own parents gushing, but that’s actually kind of ideal.) It’s developed a pattern of kicking and punching around inside mamma right before bed every night and I have tried to play back by feeling it and speaking to it a little. I find myself laughing much heartier and more often lately and while the laughter is entirely sincere, I wonder if I am subconsciously trying  to provide a happy ambiance for the little bugger. But whatever the case, the little person has been heavy on my prayers for it’s health, and if you are reading this, I can only hope you will think to include us in your prayers as well.

Welp, I suppose that’s it for this installment of the Continental Blog… Take care. Maybe I’ll figure out more about what I should post on here next week. PLUS we might know what we’re having!… anyway, here’s one for old times sake.



Posted by on July 30, 2013 in Uncategorized


With Great Power….


Everything is still pretty abstract. I’m not sure of what is happening on the other side of much at all. Who’s reading this? I don’t know. Who’s growing inside my wife? I don’t know. Are we having a boy or a girl? I don’t know. Will our plans work out? If so, which ones? I don’t know. Are any of my prayers for the future being answered? I don’t know. I don’t know who to address this to, but I do know that I want someone to read it. And as far as that is concerned there is only one person who has the most questions centered around them, so I suppose I’ll aim my voice that way.
Hello… you. I’m your dad… yep. how’s it goin. I don’t know much about you yet but that’s okay cuz you don’t either. I’m in my 30’s and I only know a little bit about myself. So there’s no rush for you to figure out much right off the bat. Sometimes living is hard to do. So, just know that I’m always gonna do my best to take the lead for you and be swingin, and learning my hardest right beside you. No sir, or ma’am. Don’t you worry about THAT my friend. You’ve got my true blue word on that.
I really look forward to talking with you. I can’t imagine what you might want to talk about. I hope you like cool stuff like morality tales of truth and justice and real life triumph in the face of real life adversity. And Spider-Man! Yeah, I know- One of these things is not like the others. But that’s just because other entities have adulterated it with corporate interests and product placements so the original tone, coloring, and message has been bogged in the mire of numbers. (Oh god I hope you’re better with numbers than I am) And while he is a fictional character, the message is very real. Let you’re young father tell you about Spider-Man.
First of all his name is hyphenated. Second of all Spider-Man got me through some lonely times growing up and I hope you never have to feel like I did then… but like I said earlier, sometimes living is hard to do. So we all need somebody there beside us, taking the lead and swinging hard. And for me, growing up, it was Spider-Man. I have to accept the inevitability that at some point in your life you may feel some loneliness as well, (it’s a part of the human condition) so I hope that I can be that source of support for you. But I also must accept that there is only so much a Dad can console or reconcile, so if there’s some other source of support you may need, I assure we will find it for you. You won’t have to hide alone in the woods or under a chapel pew searching the contents of a silly comic book to try and find the inner strength to face bullies and jerks or understand why people do HALF The things they do. We’ll talk more about all that later, but for now let’s get back to Spider-Man.
He’s a regular guy with regular problems that regular guys can relate to. Spider-Man is a flawed person. He has bad days just like everyone else. People in his world look at him in his mask and marvel at his amazing abilities. However, most of them have no idea that the only reason he is wearing that mask and doing what he does is because he made a shameful, relatable, human mistake. In one instant of foolish pride, he lost someone very close to him because he chose to act (or rather not to act) on selfish anger. He had the ability and power to do the right thing but he was irresponsible with that power and his uncle died as a result. As horrible as it was, and as heavy as the burden has been for him, he chose to learn a lesson and build his life around that lesson, and he became a better person as a result. “With great power comes great responsibility.” As lame as it may sound I am actually going to rely heavily on that adage in my time with you. Because when I boil it down to the nitty gritty… I too am a flawed person- and I want to be, and will desperately try to be, your hero.
p.s. wow. that was kinda heavy.

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Posted by on July 25, 2013 in Uncategorized


pseudo man no more…

skyrim_daedric_armor-wallpaper-1024x768Well hello there.
You just caught me in the middle of another batch of bath tub grade pseudo intellectual nonsense. Pull up a seat, and have some won’t you?
It’s been a pretty good week and weekend I suppose. I don’t really have much to report sorry to say. At the moment I have every intention of making this a weekly report and gradually providing some visual content to accompany the literal. BUT… pickins’ is slim this week kids and I feel a bit like a negligent preacher as a result. Not much of a moral to not much of a story I’m afraid.
Got the lawn mowed and laundry done and all is well on the homefront.
In two weeks Melanie and I have an appointment for an ultrasound. At which point we will know the gender of our little one. We’re both hoping it’s a girl to be honest. I don’t want to speak for anyone else’s identity but my own, and I’m not afraid to say that a baby girl would just elicit a bit more mature masculinity from me in the respect that it would just be naturally expected.
If it’s a boy then it’s just another one of us, running around here, nerding out with little regard to anyone else around him. That’s what we do. I mean right now, at this very moment, while i’m typing this, I am also power leveling my Skyrim character’s conjuration ability in order to activate a quest for a sigil stone to obtain some Daedric Armor. (If you’re a female you might need a translation for that last statement- and here it is.) I’m killing time, playing a video game. Daedric armor is like some of the BEST armor you can get in the game and my step son was playing the game recently and showed me a trick the other night that allows you to get your avatar hands on some. Case in point.
But if the baby is a girl, I feel like I would be naturally compelled to maybe spend a little less time trying to one up the boys, and step into a more active and protective role of paternity. A happy playful little girl would make me want to build little doll houses by day and at night I would take up a real life sword and stand vigil all night by a fire, waiting to chase away any ne’er do wells with just a grizzled stare and a snarl of my teeth. I mean I’m sure a little boy would also elicit the same feeling just by the fact that he would still be just as innocent and helpless. But eventually we could both be found dumbly picking our noses in our underwear and waiting to guffaw ourselves senseless over the next digitally enhanced heavily armored decapitation or draemora banishment. If it was a girl, I just think I would I feel like a more developed MAN because I would be required to be one. She would need me to be. And that would be nice….
Yet, I realize that the baby is not responsible for my view of myself or how I conduct myself. Quite the opposite in fact. But the effect it has on my self awareness is an undeniable and ironic expectation… but who knows? Some girls like video games too I guess.
I just hope it’s a happy healthy baby and as smart and beautiful as it’s mom, and that its only developmental problems are because it is just as smartmouthed and stubborn as it’s dad. I think the most important thing I can do though… in all perfect honesty… is to just FOLLOW THROUGH with my commitments… I don’t think my own archetype met the mark for me in that regard and I think it messed me up a little bit in my own decision making as an adult. So I think that is where I will definitely need to rise where my predecessor fell… No slight to my parents, but the example that I set is required to be better than what was set for me- and that need, that requirement will be present for me regardless of the baby’s gender.
But for the moment, I need to finish up on this soul trap power leveling in order to succesfully banish the unbound draemoras from the roof of the hall of attainment. And I need to put some pants on before my wife gets home. Until next time True Believers!


Posted by on July 21, 2013 in Uncategorized


ice breaker, introduction, first impression, mission statement, bleh…


Hi… whoever you are… How’s it goin?

I am a newly married 34 year old step father with a baby on the way. I’ve recently made the transition between living single and married with children and it hasn’t always been the most graceful of transformations. To be perfectly honest, I think it’s only begun and I am still in the process… It’s a hard thing to do man. It’s the most complicated, intricate, and daring balancing act over the most infamous bottomless gorge of life that’s ever been conceived and I’M the one doing it… Not some expert daredevil olympic circus bad ass performer… there are no practice runs, and no training. Just learning as you go and literally flying by the seat of your pants…

To my credit I have quit smoking (which was an all but impossible feat in itself) and I only drink about once a month. Which consist of four 16 oz., 3 point beers.

I’m a step father of two teenage boys and I have one child of my own consequence on the way. I like to think that I am by nature a pretty considerate and conscientious person, but when you throw kids into it, as a first time parent I think that any inherent ability of consideration kind of goes out the window a little bit… or maybe it’s just grossly dwarfed… I dunno.

It’s especially difficult to manage if one is as vocationally or professionally unsatisfied as I am. Almost fifteen years ago I decided to pursue an “education” and career as a graphic designer. At the time I thought it made sense and that it was actually the most responsible direction I could take since I grew up wanting to be a cartoonist or comic book artist… long story short, It is painfully obvious to me that I should have pursued my initial passion instead getting burned out in a dying, dime-a-dozen profession.

I currently work in a dead end butt hole known as a newspaper. I hate my job. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. I work in the advertising portion, laying out ads for local car lots so that every mega-monday truck month sale, black friday madness sale, and god knows what other sale can help churn out the allmighty american dollar and over sexualize the under-aged population. It’s awful work, with unforgiving deadlines and client needs to be met on a daily basis, only to have your hard work end up in a landfill or gutter in less than a week.

Now days, the majority of graphic designers do not work in print (like I do) and are resigned to working primarily on web based platforms. But if you could guess how much I love working in the print venue of my chosen vocation. I’ll bet you can fathom just how much interest I have working in the faster digital venue… Yes, that’s right… NONE. WHAT. SO. EVER.

In my free time I maintain aspirations of self publishing a graphic novel, but that particular project has been in the works for a few years now, and has been on hold for about two. I would kill for just one friend to bounce ideas off of in an active pursuit of this… dream. So, for now I’m just getting back into the swing of writing and flexing my individual voice until the works and words are nimble and quick once more.

But… I’m getting old and already in the last couple of years my obligations have literally quadrupled. My wife and I are soon approaching our one year anniversary and recently bought a house- PLUS we have a baby on the way which is my first child and her third. I can’t even begin to express how excited I am to be a father of a child. To articulate the intricate ratio of overwhelming joy and crippling emotional terror is a whole other discussion. One in which I will touch quite frequently in the future, I assure you. But all digression aside, Thats FOUR people’s needs that I am required by law of man AND God to put above my own, and that’s especially difficult and stressful right now, in the beginning, because I’m still learning how to communicate appropriately with everyone involved, while not trying to feel completely inadequate and worthless about my stupid pointless job at some local midwestern newspaper, and yearning for the satisfaction of writing and illustrating and BELIEVING in my own great american graphic novel and being my own boss… Can you imagine that? All while trying to be the model father knowing (if your own misdirected life goals are any indication) how short you will fall… So here I am…

Don’t get me wrong. My wife is wonderful and just as smart as she is drop dead gorgeous- I am completely in love with her. Our home is beautiful and perfect in every way and my step kids are a couple of incredibly articulate geniuses well beyond their years. My baby, I have no doubt is the personification of my every ideal… and despite my gratitude for them, whether I like it or not, at some point I am going to fail them all.

Let this be an account of my pride and triumphs and catharsis for my shortcomings.



Posted by on July 17, 2013 in Uncategorized