My mother always said that my brother and I were like twins. Born 18 months apart, we enjoyed the companionship of one another and leaned on each other through our less-than-picture-perfect childhood.
Few of us ARE the product of picture-perfect childhoods so we are nothing special here.
The rivalry of siblinghood touched us (hell, it tackled us!) just as most brothers and sisters. I was born with a natural pension for the arts - whether it was music, writing, drawing, photography, clay, dancing (not SO much there), public speaking/acting... you name it. For some reason, if I tried it, I succeeded at it.
My brother, on the other hand, didn't have things come so naturally to him.
Affectionately known as "Big Guy", my brother struggled through his adolescence to find ways to partake in creativity without reminding the common audiences we shared that he was not as adept at the sorts of things that I was.
As we grew older and more independantly from each other, Big Guy found his passion, his talent, and his art in digital media. His eye was incredible. His creativity was endless.
And for the first time in my life, I became jealous of the things he was able to create.
As we grew older, and we grew professionally, he developed a nice business for himself in graphic design, digital media, digital photography and website design.
I went on to do very little with the talents that were once so robust in my youth. I settled into admistrative positions that utilized my affinity for writing or occassionally utilized my eye for graphic elements. It was at these times that I taught myself Photoshop and called my brother for his genius and experience. He walked me through HTML, Photoshop, etc.
It was common for me to call him, text him, email him or all three to swoon about my most recent (extremely basic) digital accomplishment.
By the time my brother took his life in 2010, he has established an incredible career for himself and the expression of my creativity had waned so significantly that most people didn't even know I once drew/sculpted/wrote/sang/performed, etc.
As I struggled to find a way to cope with the grief of losing the person who inspired me to create (or at the very least allowed me to live my creative life vicariously through him - who achieved far more than I ever would using my talents), what was left inside me was this obvious, nagging, need to create. But how?
So, in an effort to utilize a skill Big Guy always felt was a marketable talent, Memoirs of a First Time Mom was born.
I write in honor of my brother. I write in rememberance of my brother. I write to make him proud. I write to appreciate the things in my life and to work through the challenges which enevitably come with life.
The purpose of the blog is merely to share my own perspective on many of life's common issues. Mine is a perspective which is, unwaiveringly, neutral. There is no anger or animosity behind it, but is designed to emphasize how we (collectively) have a tendancy to live in a very polar way and usually judge each other in the process.
Above all else, I am comitted to honesty in my writing and will never adjust my opinion based on what might offend people. It's not who I am here (though it can VERY much be who I am in life). The blog is my haven to speak candidly.