I will not be wishing my father a happy Father's Day.

They say that every man can be a father, but not every father can be a dad.  Thus, I submit that we rename the holiday Daddy's Day.  I used to have a Daddy.  Now I have only the biological organism that fathered me.  As such, I feel no obligation to thank him for his contribution.

He will give me a hard time about it; I will be demonized to everyone he talks to as the daughter who doesn't appreciate all he does for me.  And maybe that's true.  I don't appreciate that he sends me a card on Christmas and my birthday and pays for half of my medical bills (although that's court-mandated).  But I don't need his approval, and it's not like I'm not used to his criticism.  I've heard it my entire life.

And, personally, I'd rather spend time with people I actually like than avoid the criticism of my absent father.

Why am I so much happier late at night?  Is it because I am nocturnal or some such nonsense, or is there something else?

It is a fact that I have never in my life been a morning person.  Mrs. T. used to say that my circadian rhythms were just a little different from everyone else's, or something to that effect.  In fact, since my mother went to bed at midnight I have managed to crochet some towel toppers for the wedding on Saturday, clean up the kitchen, catch up on my Star Trek, and talk with several of my Athens friends.  On the other hand, I accomplished my laundry, grocery shopping and prescription filling, cleaning up the kitchen (from the day before), and undergoing the rigorous process of finding a towel topper pattern that would work during my mother's waking hours today.  But that was under duress, including unhappiness, sleepiness, and stress.

Am I really that antisocial?  No, that can't be it.  I am actually more social, conversing with many people through various means at night.  I really do feel as if I simply work better late at night.  Perhaps it's fewer distractions.

Or perhaps it's because I allow myself to do what I want when I am alone at night.  I allow myself to pursue the activities I really want to pursue, rather than forcing myself to do what my mother or anyone else wants me to.  I usually spend several hours at night watching Youtube, even during school, which I think I have justified in my mind as a means of winding down for the night, but which stretches on and on into the wee hours.

But that must be it.  Daytime is work time, nighttime is Steph time.  I feel so focused and free and able to do what I like.

That makes the reason I'm unable to sleep until six AM lately more understandable.

The smartest person I've ever met was a year behind me in school, but his best friend was in my grade.  The best friend, hereafter known as J, was not stupid, per se.  He had a flair for war history and practically made a career of witty quips designed to tear me apart at every opportunity.  He sat behind me in one of my classes my senior year, and while I slept through the class and earned a high A, his percentage at one point was in the single digits.  This was due completely to lack of effort, although I contended that one would have to exert effort in order to do so poorly.  Even guessing on every question on the tests should have netted him 25%, right?

I graduated high school second in my class, with a perfect 4.0 GPA, a support system convinced I would make something of myself in the real world, and a major scholarship which allowed me to attend the college of my dreams five hundred miles from home, tuition free.  I was on top of the world and could do no wrong.  J was entering the military, and I don't even know whether he earned his diploma.  I don't recall his presence at graduation.

Since then, I have been knocked down by life at seemingly every opportunity.  I allowed myself to feel superior--to J, to all the other students who barely graduated, to all the students with whom I'd spent all those years in Honors classes, to all the students who were accepted to my somewhat prestigious university, most of whom I dismissed as dumb jocks or "sorostitutes."  And I have paid dearly for it.  I find myself whiling away a lonely summer on the Internet, unable to find employment, an internship, or a research position, scholarship gone, boyfriend off doing exciting things without me, barely passing some of the classes which are the pillars of my major.

I ran into J on the Internet tonight.  He joined the Marines, got married about six months after we graduated, and has a beautiful baby girl.  While it may not be the career or life path I envision for myself, at the age of not quite 21 he has made something of himself, made his life matter.  He is honorably serving his country while simultaneously providing for a family, while I sit around crying to my mother about how I'll never get the job I want and making plans to go out with her for Long Island iced teas when I'm old enough.

Every step I try to take forward finds me facing yet another obstacle.  By the time I was a junior in high school I had my life all figured out.  Graduate with straight A's and go to university on scholarship, which I did, and then earn a degree in Chemistry and possibly a Master's as well in four years, all without costing my mother more than a few thousand dollars, moving on to work my way up to BSL-4 researcher with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta.  I didn't need a husband or a family; my way was decided and I was going to get there.  Now none of those plans is the least bit certain, and some of them have become downright impossible.  I find myself humbled.

May I remember J next time I deign to feel superior.