my careless contagion

Oh, the sanctity of fatherhood, the grandest of manly accomplishments. It's more than just the creation of life, of joining egg and sperm. It's a spiritual journey of sorts and a proclamation of manhood. While many more dollars extol the sacredness of motherhood on Mother's Day, not much is made of Father's Day. What gives? Well, maybe it's because most of us have dads who suck. Why celebrate that shit? I hate my father. I have many reasons. Shall we? My father has no idea who I am. After 41 years, he has no fucking clue. How does a man watch his son grow up (okay, maybe he wasn't around) and not know who he is, what he is made of, his strengths and weaknesses, or anything for that matter? And how am I always wrong, no matter what I say? I'm 41 years old and you're still correcting me? And you wonder why I am silent? When my father learned I was to become a father, his words of wisdom to me were: "Maybe now you'll get your shit togeth...

He likes to layer his look. He has two watches on and lots of stuff in his pockets, too.  I miss my son. He's the child I never thought I'd have. I wanted many children, but I got one. But he's worth a whole bunch. If you met him, you'd understand.  I miss him because I don't get to see him much. Even though I'm not sure what to do with him or what to say to him, I still want him around.  My prayer was I'd be able to go back to school. I abandoned all hope of being able to finish what little I could, which turned out to be an associate's degree. I left these things in God's hands and told Him I'd go back only if He opened the door. I was surprised once again because that door flung open this year.   I have 50 percent custody of my son, which I thought was fair. I could have had primary custody. I didn't think that was fair to my son or his mom. But, I don't see him 50 percent of the time because I work full-time and am taking ...