I'm finally ready to talk about this...

My father is the type of man that I can only HOPE to become.

And my father is a work horse. It runs in the family I guess. I suffer from it too...doesn't matter what's on my plate. If there's someplace I HAVE to be, something I NEED to do because I feel people are depending on me, I do it. I don't give myself any choice.

November was one of those months...

Novemember I had taken on Nanowrimo. I had committed to writing a novel in a month. I was writting 3 pieces for my winter drum line program. Even with a 40+ hour worrk week, even when I was RIGHT in the middle of the Parrell Views, Paralax Error MEGA strips...

BOTH my father, and my Grandfather were hospitalized. BOTH in the same bloody week. I found out about BOTH of them going in on the same day, when my mom called and wanted me to know about it.

I had a breakdown. I had a fucking breakdown.

And I'm not bragging about this, but this is one of my nuroses. I HAD TO FINISH MY SHIT. Even with everything on the plate. Even with both my father and my grandfather in the hospital, even on the EDGE of a nervous breakdown (which, I cannot thank you enough Kelli for that night that you just TALKED to me. Just normal "my job is boring" talk...you have no idea how much that ment to me)...I WOULD NOT take a day off. I would not stop cartooning, I would NOT stop writing music, I would NOT stop writing that damned novel.

I don't think I slept much more then 2 hours at a time that whole week.

And it IS a nurosis with me. I cant QUIT when I've started something. Call it Catholic Guilt Syndrome. Call it "Bastarditus", call it "being a fucking german fuck"...but I do not go quietly, even with the world against me. I see something through.

Part of "being strong" to me, is shutting out everything else and getting the damned job done. Part of being strong for my family is NOT burdoning them with other things. Because if I'm still awake, if I'm still able to function, I CAN do something.

And it's in my father as well. And my grandfather. It's genetic I think.

And it's FUCKING STUPID.

This month, My father went back into the hospital. Ironically, it was December 6th. The same day I got Snarked, the same day an article ran on me in the local paper for doing the novel. That very same day, I got a call from my mother that he was back in the hospital. He has some sort of unidentifiable viral infection that keeps attacking his heart. It has been since July...and he keeps plugging along.

That VERY SAME DAY. 6:00 at night. He went back in.

In the past four months he's COMPLETLY REMODLED the Fargo Parish Rectory. There were days he'ld be calling from his HOSPITAL BED to make certain that the crew was getting the job done. There were days he SHOULD have been at home resting, he was remodeling that damn mansion.

That's my father for you. He's a bastard to the core.

He SHOULD be dead. Personally I think he's just waiting for me to be married off and for the missus to push out the first rug rat so he can hold his grandchild before passing on. And I cant blame him for it, because what the man's been though, he's deserved that.

In the meantime, I've been helping my parents with their business. Which involves a LOT of snow removal and some light remodeling duties. It's tacked an extra 15-20 hours onto my week. It left me near exhaustion for three weeks.

And this is "me" time right now, it's not about the strip. It's not about anything relating to the creative process, and a part of me doesn't even want to publish this.

But this is for my father. Whom I think I'm becoming more and more like every fucking day. My father who is STILL going into the hospital sporatically. My father who may NEVER beat this thing, a man who...

This is for my dad. And it's for me. And I guess I'm finally ready to bring it out to the open.