A little more meat please...

My last post left me feeling quite empty. I was writing for the sake of filling the void in my blog, and it just felt there was no substance to what I had written and it made me contemplate what I truly wanted out of this blog. As I sit here munching on chocolate covered pretzels, I am still not quite sure what that is yet, but I feel the need to fill the void with some meatier subjects. I thought it was about time that I talked a little more about myself (Don’t worry for those of you who look forward to my plucky comic relief, it’s not going anywhere, and I will upon occasion use silly subjects or updates on the kids when I need a quick posting). So, before you click the mouse to visit the next blog, please hear what I have to say.

Most of you know who I am. And as a person, you know what sorts of things I’ve been through in my life. Or maybe you think you know, but really you aren’t too sure, and never felt the need to press any further for more details. Ok, and just maybe some of you have no idea who I am at all. I’m the kind of person that talks about myself. I’ve never really been closed in emotionally. My childhood was rough at times and even as a young adult wasn't a piece of cake, and I have always been comfortable talking about my problems with anyone that cares to listen. Sometimes I wish that others, especially a few of those closest to me would open up a bit more, one in particular, keeps her emotions bottled up to the point that I think she is going to explode one day. I feel that my comfort level in talking about my past has led me to feel more stable, emotionally speaking. Not 100% stable, but I balance it well.

When my mom passed away last April, I felt myself unraveling, as we slowly started to go through her things (and to this day I still can’t bear the thought of finishing that project, no matter how often my sister reminds me of the task), our goal was to find bits and pieces we wanted to keep of her or share with others at her celebration of life. A few years ago one of my sisters got our mom a journal of sorts, it asked a bunch of questions a lot like, “What was your favorite memory as a child?” My mom actually managed to answer quite a few of them, but it would have been so nice if there was more, especially when I was grasping for something more to hold on to.

Within days of finding this journal and using excerpts from it for her services, I began to ponder what I would leave behind for my own children and other loved ones, should I leave this world sooner than expected. Even if I live to be 100, for that matter, what is it that my children will find comfort in? My art? Maybe. But really most of it was created long before they existed, and while I loved looking at my own mother’s artistic pieces, none of those hit home as much as her own words. So I went to the store and bought a journal. My thoughts are my motivation to fill this journal and maybe more to come after it, with my own words. Let me share with you the first page:

~April 20, 2008~

My earliest memory is a dream I had in which I was sitting next to my Aunt Virginia on a ferry boat. I must have been no older than 3 or 4, and most of the memory is dark with a lot of sepia toned color. I just remember looking up at her and smiling, there is no sound by the way. I don’t know where we are going, all I know is we were going somewhere together. I’d see this image while I slept occasionally, and it was always as if I were looking upon the woman from the child’s perspective. I always knew it was Virginia though. Later as a young adult I found out that she had in fact taken me on a ferry trip to Skagway from Juneau and back again when I was around the age I speculated.

Memories are often great things. They link us to our past, and sometimes they are windows to things we never knew. Occasionally our memories aren’t so great, yet they are apart of us and make us who we are. I’ve chosen to write down my thoughts about my memories for my children, or anyone who chooses to read them. I hope my writings will inspire, enlighten and give knowledge those who read this. These events are told as I remember them, but some of the facts may be inaccurate.

I love my children more than my own life, and if they can learn from me and be better people for it, then I have served my purpose. We all share the same emotions and desires and we all make mistakes from time to time, hopefully we learn from them as they happen. This book is filled with my own mistakes, happy moments, tragedies and really so much more.

Candice

It is now March 2, 2009. Almost a complete year since the first entry of that journal. I am sorry to say that the habit of writing in a book has not exactly set in. I haven’t written much since July. I’ve had a lot going on this last year, and now that the new year is well under way, I’m hoping to make a dent in the journal. My plan is to take an entry from time to time and post them on this blog when I see fit.

There is so much more to me than the aforementioned plucky comic relief and silly posts about men in costume, I’m going to try and let a little bit of “me” shine through. Hopefully, you will find this as rewarding as I do.

My Mom

I miss you every day and love you so much!