If you were to find about thirty of my friends and ask them, "How judgmental is Ryan McBurney?"...
Well, first you'd have to find thirty people, and THAT is a Herculean task in and of itself....
But, were you to do it, I'm fairly certain that they'd probably say that, on a whole, I'm fairly easy-going, with a strong sense of what I like and dislike, but mostly open-minded about people. Accepting to a fault, except if they happen to be in a boy band. Or completely, irrationally obsessive.
I try not to judge people, as a general rule. But the downside of that is, I judge myself harshly.
I never meant to turn out like this. I never set out on a self-destructive, obsessive path about learning everything I could from my mistakes. It's not even that I do; it's that I brood on them, like a hen on her eggs.
I think about what I could have done differently. I think about how I can make amends for my errors. I think about how not to make the same mistake again.
And this kind of thinking paralyzes me, sometimes. It hobbles me and shackles me to my mistakes, and no matter how many times I forgive myself, it all seems to rush back as soon as I mess up again.
Today would have been my daughter's fourth birthday. During her brief year of life, I was finishing off college, I was trying to hold down a stressful job, I was juggling a wife and two kids and a mother in law and a dog and a house and repairs and a lawn and a van and....
I know I did the best that I could. I think I did the best that I could. I'd like to think I did the best that I could. I tried to do the best that I could.
My inner demon tells me I should have done more.
I could have read more to my daughter. I could have let a couple things slide, just to spend a little more time with her. I should have prayed for her more, I should have had stronger faith, I should have...
I forgive myself, and look to avoid my mistakes in the future. I pick myself back up and keep going. Next time, it'll be better.
Next post will probably be about grief once more - the day Abby went home and everything that followed. After that, I promise to have some more light-hearted happy blogs. :D
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
45th Confession
TS Eliot, my favorite poet, once said that "April is the cruelest month, breeding/Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/Memory and desire, stirring/Dull roots with spring rain." He talks about the mysterious teasing of life from death that happens in April - the slow, creaking growth that comes after the dormancy of winter, painful and so very slow.
February is the cruelest month. My regrets, compounded by another year of experience and growth, come creaking to life on the first of the month. They lumber around like trolls, smashing and destroying for the sake of destruction, until about the end of the month. Then, troll-like, they go underground, hiding from the rising sun, until once again in August I hit a patch of regularly scheduled self-reflection.
Four years ago, February was a cold month. As I drove my wife to our midwife, I passed a car turned on its roof in the median on 270. I don't remember much about that day...fragments form a patchwork in my mind when I try.
Joy being unresponsive in the bathroom....a red sedan, on its roof, as I desperately try to head north, without flipping my own...the cold, professional nurse..Joy not responding again...being shoved into the waiting room...watching something about true crime, not knowing what's going on...hearing medical terminology that I understand, knowing that it applies to my wife and child...being told to get someone, cold nurse turned somber...
I hear that they're both alive, and it takes my breath away. I hear the mortality rate of what happened, and I lose my breath again. I'm wandering the halls of the hospital late at night, unable to call anyone. I'm hearing that my wife might still die. I saw her, and she scared me. The Who's Tommy is not the thing to watch in the ICU.
Finally seeing a coherent wife. Getting to see my daughter for the first time. Having faith for her future. Praying against fear. Stubbornly refusing to believe what the Groucho Marx-esque Pakistani doctor says. Believing, and seeing the fruit of that belief blossom.
One year, nine days.
Getting The Call. Driving to the wrong hospital. Getting to the right one. Believing for a miracle. Releasing her.
Calling my folks to let them know she's passed. Hearing my sobs mingle with my wife's in a cold operating room, as though they came from some other people.
February is the cruelest month.
February is the cruelest month. My regrets, compounded by another year of experience and growth, come creaking to life on the first of the month. They lumber around like trolls, smashing and destroying for the sake of destruction, until about the end of the month. Then, troll-like, they go underground, hiding from the rising sun, until once again in August I hit a patch of regularly scheduled self-reflection.
Four years ago, February was a cold month. As I drove my wife to our midwife, I passed a car turned on its roof in the median on 270. I don't remember much about that day...fragments form a patchwork in my mind when I try.
Joy being unresponsive in the bathroom....a red sedan, on its roof, as I desperately try to head north, without flipping my own...the cold, professional nurse..Joy not responding again...being shoved into the waiting room...watching something about true crime, not knowing what's going on...hearing medical terminology that I understand, knowing that it applies to my wife and child...being told to get someone, cold nurse turned somber...
I hear that they're both alive, and it takes my breath away. I hear the mortality rate of what happened, and I lose my breath again. I'm wandering the halls of the hospital late at night, unable to call anyone. I'm hearing that my wife might still die. I saw her, and she scared me. The Who's Tommy is not the thing to watch in the ICU.
Finally seeing a coherent wife. Getting to see my daughter for the first time. Having faith for her future. Praying against fear. Stubbornly refusing to believe what the Groucho Marx-esque Pakistani doctor says. Believing, and seeing the fruit of that belief blossom.
One year, nine days.
Getting The Call. Driving to the wrong hospital. Getting to the right one. Believing for a miracle. Releasing her.
Calling my folks to let them know she's passed. Hearing my sobs mingle with my wife's in a cold operating room, as though they came from some other people.
February is the cruelest month.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
44th Confession
It's happened again. The terrible, incredibly painful tragedy of death once again rears its head too close to home.
When there's nothing to say, say nothing aloud, but let your actions speak volumes.
Hug your children more. Model wise choices, as far as you are able. Above all else, let them know that you love them.
It's February. Next time, a February recollection.
When there's nothing to say, say nothing aloud, but let your actions speak volumes.
Hug your children more. Model wise choices, as far as you are able. Above all else, let them know that you love them.
It's February. Next time, a February recollection.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
43rd Confession
February is my least favorite month of the year.
I've heard it taught that time was the first thing God blessed and set apart as holy, even before there was a definition of the word "holy." The same teacher said that anything that can be blessed can also be cursed; therefore, bless your time at every opportunity.
It seems to me that February is already the absolute low point of anyone's year. Lewis Black once raged that it was the grayest month; he also claims that Valentine's day came about because someone slit their wrists just to see color. While I enjoy a good rage comedian from time to time, I think Mr. Black unintentionally stumbled upon a point.
I know some people whose greatest artistic binges come when the leaves begin to turn in the autumn; for me, this February stuff is the complete antithesis. I feel more lethargic and torpid during this month than during any other.
Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's the ice. Maybe it's the fact that spring isn't just around the corner quite yet.
Maybe it's Abby.
I don't know. But I do want to explore it this month, if y'all will stick around for it?
I've heard it taught that time was the first thing God blessed and set apart as holy, even before there was a definition of the word "holy." The same teacher said that anything that can be blessed can also be cursed; therefore, bless your time at every opportunity.
It seems to me that February is already the absolute low point of anyone's year. Lewis Black once raged that it was the grayest month; he also claims that Valentine's day came about because someone slit their wrists just to see color. While I enjoy a good rage comedian from time to time, I think Mr. Black unintentionally stumbled upon a point.
I know some people whose greatest artistic binges come when the leaves begin to turn in the autumn; for me, this February stuff is the complete antithesis. I feel more lethargic and torpid during this month than during any other.
Maybe it's the cold. Maybe it's the ice. Maybe it's the fact that spring isn't just around the corner quite yet.
Maybe it's Abby.
I don't know. But I do want to explore it this month, if y'all will stick around for it?
42nd Confession
Wow, it's been a long time since I've done this. Apologies to anyone who was hanging on my every update; January was a crazy busy month for me, and I think the new year is going to be quite interesting indeed.
Well, now that my mother in law is heading out on a Mexican cruise, I think there will be more time for me to sit and write, as well as a little more motivation, especially as February is one of my lest favorite months of the year. I have a feeling that this, above all other reasons, is unconsciously why I started this blog: to finally get some of my bottled-up feelings out on some kind of media, like a confessional booth. Which makes anyone who reads this a priest. Or a therapist. Which is kinda funny, really, if you stop and think about it.
So, some quick life updates: Joy is still doing Art school. We purchased a Wii. I'm very good at swordfighting on it. Edan is still adorable, but recently he's been taking to praying for a newborn child for the family. I'm not sure what brought THAT on, but I'm working on dealing with it.
We recently lost power to our house. There's nothing like an ice-storm blackout to show you how dependent you are on electricity. Especially when your whole house is powered by it.
Finally, I'm going to say that I'm sorry I haven't written for a while. Personally, I haven't heard too many complaints, so it hasn't been in the forefront of my "things to get done" list. So if you want more, let me know.
Well, now that my mother in law is heading out on a Mexican cruise, I think there will be more time for me to sit and write, as well as a little more motivation, especially as February is one of my lest favorite months of the year. I have a feeling that this, above all other reasons, is unconsciously why I started this blog: to finally get some of my bottled-up feelings out on some kind of media, like a confessional booth. Which makes anyone who reads this a priest. Or a therapist. Which is kinda funny, really, if you stop and think about it.
So, some quick life updates: Joy is still doing Art school. We purchased a Wii. I'm very good at swordfighting on it. Edan is still adorable, but recently he's been taking to praying for a newborn child for the family. I'm not sure what brought THAT on, but I'm working on dealing with it.
We recently lost power to our house. There's nothing like an ice-storm blackout to show you how dependent you are on electricity. Especially when your whole house is powered by it.
Finally, I'm going to say that I'm sorry I haven't written for a while. Personally, I haven't heard too many complaints, so it hasn't been in the forefront of my "things to get done" list. So if you want more, let me know.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
41st Confession
So someone asked me for some links that I like. Fine -- here ya go.
Angelo Inc. -- The best web comic out there. Ever. Go read it. Right now. NOW, I said!
Dracula's Full Lament -- The praise and worship song, done by a secular Muppet. Better than some things out there today.
Sham Rock - "Tell Me Ma" -- a great Irish techno song. Just kinda stumbled across it accidentally and fell for it.
Kongregate -- Whenever I need a good break, I head over and play a few rounds of whatever I feel like. All kinds of timewasters on this place.
Google -- More powerful than anybody realizes. My homepage.
Facebook -- My social networking drug of choice. I used to have a MySpace page, but then I turned thirty, and decided to take it down.
Hulu -- One of several online video services. My personal favorite for recent domestic television.
AMV Cake -- For those of you who don't know, AMV stands for Anime Music Video. This is a good example of it.
Common People AMV -- One of my favorite versions of this song, being done in a slightly more grown up style. It's a grown-up song, though, so it's all ok.
That's eight, and that's enough for right now. Comment me your favorites, and we'll do lunch or something.
Angelo Inc. -- The best web comic out there. Ever. Go read it. Right now. NOW, I said!
Dracula's Full Lament -- The praise and worship song, done by a secular Muppet. Better than some things out there today.
Sham Rock - "Tell Me Ma" -- a great Irish techno song. Just kinda stumbled across it accidentally and fell for it.
Kongregate -- Whenever I need a good break, I head over and play a few rounds of whatever I feel like. All kinds of timewasters on this place.
Google -- More powerful than anybody realizes. My homepage.
Facebook -- My social networking drug of choice. I used to have a MySpace page, but then I turned thirty, and decided to take it down.
Hulu -- One of several online video services. My personal favorite for recent domestic television.
AMV Cake -- For those of you who don't know, AMV stands for Anime Music Video. This is a good example of it.
Common People AMV -- One of my favorite versions of this song, being done in a slightly more grown up style. It's a grown-up song, though, so it's all ok.
That's eight, and that's enough for right now. Comment me your favorites, and we'll do lunch or something.
40th Confession
So tonight, I'm gonna take a quick look at Contemporary Christian Music. Only a quick look, because much more than that and I get sick to my stomach.
Most CCM has fallen into the sameness trap: it all sounds the same. It tries to be "fresh" and "pure" and "holy", when all it comes across as is sweet and ineffectual.
QUICK DISCLAIMER -- THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO ALL CCM. NOT ALL CCM GROUPS ARE SYRUPY SWEET SUBSTITUTES FOR "SECULAR" MUSIC. THERE ARE A FEW - VERY FEW - DECENT GROUPS OUT THERE.
When I look around for decent music, I look for a group that knows its sound and works it to the best of their abilities. U2 has anthem rock down pat and they play around with it in creative ways. Delirious has a similar sound, but they put it to use not to rock stadiums, but to challenge believers. Queen's songs changed the way that it meant to rock the world; Third Day has done something similar to the CCM world, without the extra makeup or the leotards. Although, I think Mac Powell would look lovely in the harlquinn...never mind. No I don't.
When I look at both the CCM and the "secular" world of music, all I hear and see is static. The local alternative station plays some decent stuff, but all of it sounds like the 80's or earlier. With a couple notable exceptions (Mumford & Sons and Cake), all the new, fresh, alternative sounds all are played out and tired, too.
Which means it's time for a new sound to come out of somewhere. I just hope that we recognize it when it happens.
Most CCM has fallen into the sameness trap: it all sounds the same. It tries to be "fresh" and "pure" and "holy", when all it comes across as is sweet and ineffectual.
QUICK DISCLAIMER -- THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO ALL CCM. NOT ALL CCM GROUPS ARE SYRUPY SWEET SUBSTITUTES FOR "SECULAR" MUSIC. THERE ARE A FEW - VERY FEW - DECENT GROUPS OUT THERE.
When I look around for decent music, I look for a group that knows its sound and works it to the best of their abilities. U2 has anthem rock down pat and they play around with it in creative ways. Delirious has a similar sound, but they put it to use not to rock stadiums, but to challenge believers. Queen's songs changed the way that it meant to rock the world; Third Day has done something similar to the CCM world, without the extra makeup or the leotards. Although, I think Mac Powell would look lovely in the harlquinn...never mind. No I don't.
When I look at both the CCM and the "secular" world of music, all I hear and see is static. The local alternative station plays some decent stuff, but all of it sounds like the 80's or earlier. With a couple notable exceptions (Mumford & Sons and Cake), all the new, fresh, alternative sounds all are played out and tired, too.
Which means it's time for a new sound to come out of somewhere. I just hope that we recognize it when it happens.
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