tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62690967938168322442012-01-28T10:26:51.250-08:00Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-4513618467466159292012-01-28T10:26:00.000-08:002012-01-28T10:26:51.268-08:00

Thursday morning I went for a run. It was still dark out, but my plan was to do 50 minutes total along the sidewalk. Now that the snow has melted I’ve discovered that the sidewalk runs straight north almost to the Puget Sound. It’s mostly downhill on the way out, and then, of course, uphill on the way back. I ended up running only about 48 minutes because of it. I turned around at 24 minutes,

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-40753479472045808732012-01-23T20:29:00.000-08:002012-01-23T20:29:40.415-08:00

His Right Dishonourable Loathsomeness, Master Thugfang, is a demon of great infamy among academic circles. He is a frequent columnist for “Tempter’s Times”, an assistant editor for “Wickedness Weekly” and current chair of Tempter’s Training College’s Department of Defense Against the White Arts, after the sudden disappearance of the most recent head under mysterious circumstances. Now, His Right

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-3479925747390237002012-01-19T09:44:00.000-08:002012-01-19T09:44:19.722-08:00

I think I should probably get out more. Apparently there is a video that went viral (is it just me, or does that phrase just sound bad?) on the internet of a young man standing in a parking lot rapping about why he hates religion but loves Jesus. I heard about it through the responses for days before I actually saw the video. I didn’t watch any of the video responses, but I read a great deal of

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-91539567202653640062012-01-18T08:08:00.000-08:002012-01-18T08:08:54.639-08:00

A young man, old enough to shave, was walking home from work one evening and took a back street behind the local super market, which he usually didn’t take. He saw that there was a martial arts dojo on that street and as he walked past the door a man came out with a gym bag in one hand and a wooden bokken training sword in the other. He was middle aged, with glasses, of very average build. He

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-57330348620855645222012-01-10T17:54:00.000-08:002012-01-10T17:58:02.900-08:00

 I stopped and took this picture at a scenic overview in Oregon. This was a six mile downgrade from the high desert to the fertile valley below. It looked to me as if the mountains just droped straight off to the farmland and the engineers had to come up with a way to get the road from the top to the bottom in a real hurry. So they split the Eastbound and Westbound lanes and sent them down (or

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-67993436850308697492012-01-09T20:47:00.000-08:002012-01-09T20:47:41.399-08:00

I saw these bales of hay north of Salt Lake towards the end of the third day (as you can tell by the light.) Tons and tons of hay. Some of the fields are about three or four times the size of our whole farm back home. The speed limit is also a pretty fluid concept. I was doing 80mph most of the way (speed limit was 75) but I got passed by someone doing about a hundred, on a curve. He had a

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-82464029916900208482012-01-08T19:08:00.000-08:002012-01-08T19:08:08.336-08:00

So, from Jan 2nd to Jan 5th of this year I drove solo from NY to my new spot in Washington. (That's states, not cities). A total of 3,000 miles, (I made a few stops on the way) and three 12+ hour days, with the last day breaking 8 hours behind the wheel. I think I underestimated how unpleasant that much inactivity was going to be. I did bring a camera so I can share some pictures. The first day

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-74713715690516881032012-01-06T06:08:00.000-08:002012-01-06T06:08:25.498-08:00

When I lived in Fort Bragg I would sometimes drive to a Church forty minutes away so that I could attend a Tridentine rite Latin Mass. It was so worth the drive, although the drive itself was a forty minute time for prayer, and therefore quite worthwhile in its own right. I was mildly amused by the irony of the numerous billboards along I-95 outside Bragg, advertising "Adult Entertainment".

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-51019911890161396952012-01-01T11:19:00.000-08:002012-01-01T11:25:55.321-08:00

This isn’t meant to be a personal thing, In fact it couldn’t be; I barely know Your name, or face, or home or how you go From home to work, and back, or what you sing In the car on your commute. This shouldn’t sting On any emotional level. I am not your foe Just a professional, with bills to pay; although In retrospect, it might be nice just once To know the man behind the face behind The

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-62335973434658759122011-12-22T14:22:00.000-08:002011-12-22T14:22:37.854-08:00

I know a non-Catholic who has been exposed to the Catholic faith pretty heavily for years, but who still has no interest in becoming a Catholic. When asked why he answers, “Because Catholic worship is so boring. It looks like there is no feeling, they are just going through the motions.” The typical response to this would be an explanation of the liturgy, and how worship is an action of faith

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-53166575220676878812011-12-18T18:37:00.000-08:002011-12-18T18:37:09.895-08:00

This weekend I am visiting my cousins who live in Virginia, on my way north to NY for Christmas. Now, I always make pizza for them when I visit. I really love making pizza, but I seldom make it anymore. I never make it for myself. It is a lot of work, even though I enjoy it, and it just doesn’t make sense to me to go through all that trouble without someone to share it with. I’d just as soon

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-31231001130191988102011-12-16T14:44:00.000-08:002011-12-22T12:56:56.524-08:00

You dwell so much in shadow; at times it seems As if there is no hope, no peace, no strength. And days and nights grind on in weary length, Grueling days, and nights of restless dreams. For rent and gas, utilities and counseling fees, You last from one hard-earned check to the next, No friends close by, not even a friendly text, Living on Zoloft and lonely mac & cheese. But in God’s eyes your

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-21002405613066201742011-12-11T18:08:00.000-08:002011-12-11T18:08:25.277-08:00

“She had that great femininity which demanded of her lover what her lover demanded of himself.” I read this sentence last week in Charles Williams’ “The Figure of Beatrice,” and have been savoring it ever since. He wrote it of Dante’s oft-commented-on beloved, as she appears in the “Divine Comedy”, of which, I confess, I have read only the Inferno, and that only in high school. Despite my

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-65489658987320149002011-12-03T09:13:00.000-08:002011-12-03T09:13:48.238-08:00

Generations For I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments. Exodus 20:5-6 The phrase “Jealous God,” is one of those knee jerk phrases, and this is one of those knee jerk verses. Automatically it puts a

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-5670309607471422742011-11-26T19:33:00.000-08:002011-11-26T19:36:34.376-08:00

I suppose everyone has seen this video by now. I’ll start off by saying that from a big picture point of view, I don’t know much about this incident. I don’t know much about Occupy Wall Street, I don’t know what (if any) goals they have. I don’t know what these students were trying to accomplish, or whether they knew what they were trying to accomplish, or how legal their protest was. I also

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-56438524062504839082011-11-21T16:41:00.000-08:002011-11-21T16:41:34.832-08:00

My weekend in the woods was excellent. It rained cats and dogs the first day, and part of the first night. After that it cleared and after the first two nights it warmed up as well. I am not used to using a tent in the field, so I was a little surprised at how much of a difference it makes, but I think I’m probably going to invest in a hammock with a rain screen for my future comfort camping

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-76312452944072605962011-11-16T15:19:00.001-08:002011-11-16T15:19:21.827-08:00

This is what you get for volunteering: The newest students in the course are getting ready to go out for land nav practice and testing, (that’s the thing where you try to find your way around the woods with nothing but a map, a compass, a totally useless rubber rifle and an equally useless and much heavier rucksack.) The cadre running it have asked the graduating class for a few medics to do

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-31330907614127869732011-11-13T06:22:00.000-08:002011-11-13T06:22:12.614-08:00

This week was the culmination of a very long, long road. It started years ago, when I was only 17, and I first heard of the "Special Forces" when I was in basic training. Even before I left basic I had decided that I was going to leave the Army Reserves, go Active Duty, and try out for this elite unit. It would be years before I finally got the chance to go to selection, and I didn't make it

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-79535868088703777692011-11-05T14:45:00.000-07:002011-11-05T14:45:33.142-07:00

“Tramp!” goes the boot as it crushes the ground, “Stomp!” goes the heel, and “Slap” goes the toe. The rucksack creaks and squeaks, the ponderous sounds Of overloaded canvas, in time with the slow, Slow, agonizing pace of too many pounds At least a hundred, sagging from my spine. I feel it in my shoulders, I feel it in my feet Slapping down and down and yet again down, Always slapping

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-35651464678002834422011-10-05T17:55:00.000-07:002011-10-05T17:55:42.547-07:00

So this is a complaining post. I’m complaining about the fact that there are no good punching bags in any of the gyms I’ve been in on Fort Bragg, and I’ve been in most of them. I’m serious, this is an issue to me. You would think, on a military installation a punching bag, in fact, multiple punching bags, would be standard equipment. They had one hanging up in the student gym at the

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-81687543634378002312011-10-03T11:58:00.000-07:002011-10-03T11:58:47.297-07:00

One evening a little girl came into the ER. She was about nine years old, and she had fallen on her outstretched hand while roller-blading. Her right arm was in a sling and she had abrasions on both her knees, but what really struck me when I walked in the room was the fact that she was sitting contentedly and quietly on the edge of the gurney, kicking her legs and looking around with interest.

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-12431531752284011312011-09-30T07:30:00.000-07:002011-09-30T07:54:44.350-07:00

Part one, which explains why I was afraid in the first place, is here. So once I realized I couldn't go back to sleep I picked up my rosary and started saying it. I keep a loaded pistol with a tac-light on the floor by the head of my bed (there are no women or children in the apartment) and a large, razor sharp kukri knife strapped to the head board (no, it’s not paranoia. It’s just a convenient

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-12644456482291065722011-09-28T12:02:00.000-07:002011-09-28T12:02:06.672-07:00

I had a very unpleasant experience this morning. Back track, though, to what started it. Yesterday afternoon I went to see a movie. It was an action film, and not a particularly great one, but good enough for a matinee. One of the previews, however, was kind of a shocker. At first it was just a home video of two little girls playing in the backyard of a ordinary American home, one jumping on the

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-48247382553820201702011-09-27T07:55:00.000-07:002011-09-27T07:55:22.342-07:00

One night the EMS brought in a girl who was found unresponsive in her home. By the time she arrived at the ER she was answering questions, mostly appropriately, albeit with a significant delay. We were able to get a complete but contradictory history from her. She denied remembering anything, although she said she had had one drink and some marijuana with her friends that morning. We told her

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-88981329820842978742011-09-25T20:06:00.001-07:002011-09-25T20:06:50.535-07:00

Pineland Bivouac Light on the cheekbones Strong fingers of airy gold Bright, blazing, baked smell Of soft, sharp, sunkissed pine straw. Carpet thick like thatch Fallen on forest floor. Dusty, drifted, dry Burning, bright blanket Myriad acupuncture needles Under bare, bruised, battered, butchered feet: Glorious after the march.

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-27045806844696198502011-09-24T11:59:00.000-07:002011-09-24T11:59:14.326-07:00

I came up with a theory of spirituality this weekend, based on a quote from Rambo: First Blood. I think I made a real stride forward in spiritual understanding. We all know some people who just can't seem to thrive spiritually. Whether it's in our church or our family or a larger circle of acquaintances, they just can't seem to draw any nourishment. A sermon or homily that inspires and ennobles

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-15898817330485595282011-09-16T09:02:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:02:35.010-07:00

Let’s take the idea of nakedness a little bit further, by taking a look at the history of clothing. The first garment ever modeled by humans was a fig leaf, or several fig leaves, sewn together by Adam and Eve to cover themselves after they ate the apple. Shortly after that, God made them clothes out of animal hides to cover them better. You don’t get a lot of wear out of fig leaves,

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-7005341506450687202011-09-13T11:11:00.000-07:002011-09-13T11:11:54.782-07:00

One time in Afghanistan, around Christmas I think it was, we stopped over in FOB Tillman. We were doing some blasting to cut out rock so the construction engineers could build a nice new road to the top of the mountain where the FOB had an observation point (OP). It was a nice easy job, only during daylight hours, and the cooks knew what they were doing at that FOB. They left the chowhall open at

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-25965576636762051992011-09-06T15:13:00.000-07:002011-09-06T15:13:10.628-07:00

A few weeks back I posted as my facebook status “Naked I came into the world, naked I shall depart it. One could say that a truly wise man spends his entire life naked.” It got some laughs and some semi joking agreements, and at least a couple of people thought it was a disturbing image. The truth is that it was half a thought. It came into my head for some reason on the tail end of an ER

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-77742281722795518992011-09-01T16:22:00.000-07:002011-09-01T16:22:25.136-07:00

I had a man come into the ER one day. He was 94 years old. He had had diarrhea for two days, and then that morning he had felt tired and drowsy. So much so that he didn’t go out to walk his sheep to pasture and watch them all day, as he had done every day for nearly a century, with hardly any breaks. His daughter had gotten nervous and brought him into the ER. He spoke very little English, but he

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-59370614821596452492011-08-27T15:12:00.001-07:002011-08-27T15:12:47.744-07:00

I had a 19 year old patient one night who came in with her boyfriend for “arm pain”. She had her left arm in a sling and she wouldn’t let go of it with her right hand. I went in to check her out after the nurse had her signed in. She was anxious and emotional, and her arm was obviously in pretty terrible pain. She had good sensory function in her fingers, good pulses and capillary refill, but she

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-87233665279876118892011-08-25T17:45:00.001-07:002011-08-25T17:45:58.241-07:00

I had a 58 year old patient one night who came in because he couldn’t stop bleeding. The first sight I had of him was when I glanced into the room where the nurse was checking him in. I wasn’t planning on talking to him, but he was sitting on the gurney with his feet towards me, and a bloody washcloth between his feet. My eye zoomed straight in to a definite blood splatter right across his

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-82570661057350976872011-08-23T16:08:00.000-07:002011-08-23T16:08:57.478-07:00

This is a very old photo. I think it is actually a digital picture of an old film photo my mom took before they invented digital cameras. The muscular gentleman with the ax is my dad. The slightly less muscular gentleman on the stump is my littlest brother. Or rather, he was my littlest brother at the time. Now he is only the youngest. At nineteen he's actually the tallest of us five

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-40929353011936724702010-03-17T15:23:00.001-07:002010-03-17T15:23:59.243-07:00

Recently, we were wondering what to do for our Korean teacher at the end of the course. There are only three of us, but usually the class pitches in and gets her a plaque or framed photograph or something. There was also the baseball bat, the cavalry saber and the infamous Mae-Mae Stick (that's another story!) but she already has a bunch of both ornaments and weapons. However, in a stroke of pure

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-54270602205244698512010-03-04T18:05:00.000-08:002010-03-04T18:05:36.701-08:00

See, he returns, in grave triumphant joy, The warrior returning, from the wars, from the strife Proud and fierce and tall, who before was bent Strong now he, whom lately we thought crushed And bowed, and wounded sore and maimed And in the end destroyed, yet here he comes. Beyond all hope, beyond all looked for joy, The foe lies slain, the hero's sword is sheathed And he, himself returns to claim

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-22088600188739276152010-02-26T13:49:00.000-08:002010-02-26T13:49:34.577-08:00

All things work together for good to them that love God. I was reminded of this verse (Romans 8:28) today in my xanga subs this morning, and then again after daily Mass. It was good to be reminded of this, since I was very busily engaged in reviewing an second guessing all the decisions I've ever made, which is kind of fun, if you've never tried it. It makes you feel important. You can feel like

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-42254022330280124032010-02-05T17:14:00.000-08:002010-02-05T17:14:22.074-08:00

My name was Dullus Marius, stationed in Galillee, I was a centurion, the toughest in the valley. Of all strong, hate-filled men I was then the worst, Now I fight for The Nazarean, but I saw her first. I saw her only once and stopped to stare. She was tall and stood straight, forthright and fair, Fair, divinely fair, with spring blossoms woven In dark honey hair, in smooth locks cloven.

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-54059230589202141652010-01-29T13:24:00.000-08:002010-01-29T13:24:10.163-08:00

The date was sometime in september of 2009. The days tend to run together. The dates that we assign in the outside world have very little meaning in SFAS. The days are numbered sequentially starting at 00 and going to the last day of the course. This was the second time I went and this time it was a fourteen day course, and so the only date that had any meaning was the number of the class day.

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-3513128409699119312010-01-27T16:02:00.000-08:002010-01-28T13:46:07.798-08:00

Deep in a thicket, a wolf lived alone, Scorning the pack he hunted on his own. He fought the puma and the bear and stole their kill, Roaming free, he lived by his own will. Free and fierce and utterly untamed, He killed and ate and did all unashamed. He nothing knew or cared of pity, he stood apart Exulting in his strength and hardness of heart And fleet flying paw and earth gripping claw, That

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-43477200423506432282010-01-27T15:38:00.000-08:002010-01-27T15:38:21.198-08:00

This one time, in Afghanistan, I made a stupid and potentially fatal mistake. I failed to check up on my driver to make sure he was doing his job. He failed to do his job, and as a consequence, we rolled out on mission one morning without water. It was the middle of June in the Helmand Province, and the temperature broke a hundred before 0900. It's not as hot in Afghanistan as it is in Iraq, in

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6269096793816832244.post-24638345258860203002010-01-27T15:31:00.000-08:002010-01-27T15:31:44.715-08:00

We can never tell who is catching a glimpse of our story at any given time. It is too wonderful for us. What's even more wonderful is why. Why is God doing this at this time? Not quite a year ago, while driving from New York to Virginia, I stopped at a gas station in Pennsylvannia somewhere. Pennsylvania has always seemed, to me, kind of like the Wood between the Worlds in "The Magician's Nephew

Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10149992370708449951noreply@blogger.com0