Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 4

Blog 4 - Something You Have To Forgive Someone Else For

I always wonder if I should forgive my Dad for killing himself. After all, he did apologize in a suicide note. He said it was too hard to live the way he was, that he'd made too many mistakes, and how he didn't want to continue. I can understand that. Life sometimes gets too hard to handle, and if there's an easy way out, some people can take it.

And I guess I can forgive that. If he'd stayed alive, he would've continued to be a financial burden, and he would've continued to make life a living Hell for my sainted mother. For that, I'm glad he's gone.

But I don't really think I can forgive him for what he did to my mother. According to her best friend, my mom used to be a lot more fun and adventurous, and staying up worrying about my dad all the time changed all of that. Now she's a bit more of a homebody, and she really hasn't re-established herself in the world. Her life now revolves around my sister and me. She hasn't re-married, and I don't think her life has ended up the way she wanted.

She was such a cute and fun person, and my dad took the best years of her life. He lied to her, abused her mentally, and took all of her money. And while he gave her two kids (and she says it's worth it), I don't really want to forgive him for doing that to her.

So, I guess, I can forgive what he's done to me and my life. Like I said in blog two, my life is a lot better than most. But as far as what he did to my mom, I can't forgive him. And won't. Because while I can imagine that I deserve bad things, I know for certain that she doesn't.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 3

Blog 3 - Something You Have To Forgive Yourself For

The one I let get away.

Imagine you're at a barbecue, and you see two grills. One grill is shiny and golden, and a small stack of juicy steaks are beside it. On the other grill are a stack of hamburgers. There's a long line for the steaks because everyone loves steak. There's less of a line for the hamburgers, but you get in the steak line. After all, they probably won't run out by the time you get there.

You smell something good, and you look around for what it is. You think, for a second, that it's the steak. But it isn't - it's actually the hamburgers. They smell good, and you start to wonder what it would taste like. But you stay in your line - you want steak.

A few minutes later, you start hearing that the steaks are running out. You check, but you can't see for sure. You can see the hamburgers though - there seem to be plenty. You rationalize that if you can't get a steak, you can probably still get a hamburger. You wait it out. You can still smell the burgers, but you start to ignore the smell. It's a matter of principle now - you're getting the damn steak. If not, the burger will be there.

News hits that the steaks are out. Everyone who reaches the grill leaves unhappy. But you have to see for yourself. People from the steak line get in the burger line and leave happy. You see it, but you still aren't affected. There was a huge stack of burgers - one will be there for you if you need it.

You get to the front of the line, and the news is right. Steaks are out. You notice that the smell from the steak grill isn't even as great as you'd imagined. Maybe the meat wasn't good, or maybe the chef wasn't. Either way, no steak for you, and the steak you wanted maybe didn't even exist.

But there will always be burgers, right? You walk to the burger line, and it's closed. All the burgers have been eaten. One wasn't saved for you.

In college, I tried for a steak and they were out. When I tried to go get a burger, it was gone too. And even though it smelled and looked good, it didn't matter. I went the more difficult route when I would've been happier with the easier one.

And I still beat myself up about it. Even though, at the end of the day, I was a dumb kind. Of course the hungry guy's going to want the steak. If I knew what I knew now, things would be different. But I didn't - I made the choice with the information I was given.

There's other burgers out there. Maybe even other steak. The barbecue isn't over, and I need to stop pretending that it is. I need to forgive myself for being choosing poorly and move on.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 2

Blog 2 - Something you love about yourself

I'm really lucky. As much as I like to focus on the bad, I "won the genetic lottery" as Tucker likes to say it. To be born where I was, to the family I was born to, in the time I was born...it's one in a billion luck. I could've been born as a starving child in Africa. Or during the Black Plague. Or as a Cubs fan. It could be so much worse.

My family is great, and my mother gives me endless strength because she's faced challenges that make my problems seem like nothing. My friends are great and offer enormous support. I'm healthy, safe, and intelligent. I'm able to do things that 99% of the world can only dream of, and that's an amazing blessing.

There's a Twitter hashtag called "first world problems," and it's really funny to read sometimes. Problems with lattes and books and DVDs and smart phones. But the fact is that it's true. We have problems that most of the world wouldn't even consider. There are people that are starving in Africa. Not starving like "I skipped lunch and am starving" but actually starving - to the point of death.

I'm so blessed to be able to be on this blog. On the internet. In a safe and wealthy country. In a relatively safe time. I'm surrounded by good people that love me (and some that simply tolerate me). And as bad as I think life can get sometimes, it could be infinitely worse.

And I'm glad that I have people in my life that can remind me of that. Because God knows I need it more than I should.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 1

My friend Brian (http://bmwooddell.wordpress.com/) did a blog series that I'm going to steal. He called it the "Thirty Day Challenge" but I'm calling it a "Thirty Blog Challenge." Primarily because I don't know if I can (or want to) do thirty consecutive days of blogging. Secondly because I would like the freedom to blog about whatever I want in the mean time. So this is something that I'm going to start and eventually finish. I won't make it neat and tidy like Brian did, but I'll do what I can.

Day 1 - Something You Hate About Yourself

That's a delightful way to start, isn't it?

Well, most people know that the defining moment of my life was the day my father committed suicide. It impacted my life in ways I probably still haven't figured out, but the primary way was my confidence.

I was the popular kid in school until my dad died. I was the first one to run up and kiss a girl. I would entertain the kids by lip syncing Weird Al songs. I played sports, and my dad always brought pizza to class. I seemed to be friends with everyone in school, and things seemed to be on track.

When he died, it all stopped. I stopped being friends with everyone. Anyone. I stopped going out and having fun. I stopped being funny. From that point on, I could count my friends on one hand. I ate lunch alone at school, and I came right home and spent time alone. Middle school and high school were about the same.

And because I spent most of my middle school years alone, I missed out on a lot of the social challenges that middle school provides. Elementary school is all about being social with people from your own gender. Middle school mixes things up a bit, and you start spending time with people of the opposite sex. That way, by the time high school starts, things are comfortable.

Not for me.

My awkward years were high school, when I finally started to mix and mingle. By then, it was too late. I'd disappeared in middle school (coincidentally the time when I was supposed to meet all the kids from all the other elementary schools), and the people I did meet probably wondered why I was so weird around girls. I didn't date in high school.

When it came time for college, I was still a step behind. I'd done middle school in high school, and now I was doing high school in college. I was naive, and I was uncomfortable.

The problem with confidence is that it doesn't really seem possible to manufacture it. Confidence is built on a foundation of other confidence. You're confident that you can hit a baseball because you hit it before. You know the girl will say yes because the previous one did.

But what happens when you have no confidence? You have no foundation. And with no confidence, you can't build more because you don't have a foundation. It's a vicious cycle, and it takes something extraordinary to break out of.

Finally, I feel like I've broken out of that. But what all did I miss? All those times in high school and college that I could have been a part of. Heck, what about the popular kid that I was back in elementary school - what if he had been allowed to grow up and mature? Where would I be now?

So I wish I'd had more confidence. I wish I'd handled the death better. And, most of all, I wish it just hadn't happened. I hate that it affected me so much, and I hate that it had to happen to me.

It made me who I am, and I understand that. A lot of people like the person I've become, and I'm not sure they would've liked the person I would've become otherwise. But I often think about the parallel universe where I had a normal childhood. Where I'd be now, and how things would've been differently.

And until I've completely conquered the fear that stops me from being as strong as I want to be, I'll always wonder what could've been.

A Good Hit to the Gut

You'll hear the phrase "a good hit to the gut" when dealing with knocking someone off some sort of pedestal. Someone gets a little too big for their own britches, and they need to be knocked down a peg so they can live in the world with the rest of us.

Tonight, TCU got a good hit to the gut. And I'm talking about everyone, but I'm especially talking about the fans. Yes, the game was a nail-biter at the end, with the final score coming down to a field goal. But I'm talking about 47-23. Deep touchdown after deep touchdown. A royal ass-whipping.

At that moment, TCU fans knew that this was different. No more perfect seasons. No more BCS hopes. A normal season for an average football team.

The last time that TCU lost a regular season game was November 6, 2008. They lost a 13-10 game at Utah, who ended up going to the BCS. The only other loss on the year was at Oklahoma to a team that eventually went to the national championship game. That year ended with the Frogs beating Boise State in the Poinsettia Bowl. Both of those losses are forgivable.

You have to go all the way back to 2007 to find a loss like this one. Four years ago. To a team that was starting a redshirt freshman quarterback named Andy Dalton.

That team lost five games. They lost at Texas, at Air Force, at Wyoming, at BYU, and home to Utah. They went 7-5 and won the Texas Bowl over Houston. For the most part, I can't remember this season at all. I remember the Texas and the Air Force games, but I don't really remember any of the others. It was a mediocre team that was trying to work in a brand-new quarterback.

After that year, TCU went 34-2 in the regular season and 2-1 in bowl games (including two BCS bowls). All three losses were to teams in the top 10.

Five losses in one season. Less than that over the next three. And a Rose Bowl championship to tie it all off.

Tonight's game signaled that it was time to start over. And it didn't really matter if they won or lost. TCU could, very well, lose their next game at Air Force. They could lose a couple different games in the Mountain West schedule. They could lose to BYU. They could lose to Boise. This team could easily go 7-5.

And we all knew it going in. No one was talking BCS this year. We all predicted two or three losses. A lot of people thought we could lose to Baylor.

But it was all just talk. TCU fans could barely remember what it meant to lose a game. It'd been so long that we just grew accustomed to finding a way to win every game. I mean, think about what's happened since November 2008. It's a long time.

Until it happened. Until we looked up at the scoreboard and saw what was happening, we didn't really understand. And, as it happened, we all remembered what it's like to have a mortal team. To walk out of a stadium with that depressed feeling of "we'll get them next time."

And we needed that. We needed to see our team bleed, and we needed it to happen early so that we'll be prepared for what's going to happen.

And it will allow us to pay attention to what's being built. Tonight, we saw that the Casey Pachall era could be very good. After Patterson took the leash off, Pachall made some very solid throws, and it looked like he had great command of the team. He got the the team back in the game and almost won it.

I'm not saying that we can have a bad season and then immediately move on to greatness again. There's a chance that TCU will never reach the heights that it reached under Andy Dalton.

But now that we know that 2011 won't be special, we can start looking toward what's being built for 2012. And 2013. Because if it works the way that it could work, we'll all barely remember 2011. And tonight's loss will absolutely be worth it.