Fragged and Fragmented

What's a motherf'er supposed to do? I could compartmentalize better too if I was getting blowjobs from some vixen in the oval office. But that is, most definitely, way old news. But my point is that the day-to-day different worlds I'm facing these days(fatherhood; capital manager; wage slave [ie healthcare slave]; husband; erstwhile writer) is making me somewhat dimly defined as to what or who I am.

I'm finding the fact that fatherhood is winning out most often when I'm not at work earning a chance to earn affordable healthcare (my wages after the fact of the healthcare premium are negligible) because I really enjoy my son and watching him grow into himself a bit more each day.

The e-zine thing is still fun, but slow as hell. I'm no whizz kid when it comes to marketing. So, the forums are next to dead. Maybe I could get some affordable hospice care for them, too? Tell me how, and I'll do it. I want TQR's death to be as painless as possible, you know. And the writing is slow as hell too.

My relationship with my wife Pam is one of necessity right now and me trying to stay out of the way of her pregnant hormones. Hell hath no wrath like a woman impregnated? Isn't that how it goes? Well, it should...

Work sucks, but what can I do? It's my own damn fault for earning a college degree in English and Religion (double major, so fucking what?). Any of you young-uns out there reading this be warned: get a degree in engineering or something concrete enough to where you can apply it directly to the real world once you get out of the theoretical la la land of college.

I'm out.