A very good place to start...

I think the hardest part about blogging is the "getting started" part. This is followed closely by the "managing to post timely updates" part.  So...now that I'm started, I'm over one hurdle. I hope to be motivated and have the time to post a few times a week, but we'll see how that goes.

So what on earth is this blog about anyway? What's up with the mountain theme? This blog is a brainchild started when I was in church on the first Sunday in Lent, listening to the sermon (and lest you turn away thinking this is going to be a Very Religious Blog, relax. It's not.). Now, the whole reason I was listening to the sermon at all was because it was the first Sunday in Lent. I sing in the choir of a fabulous little Episcopalian parish in town, and like any good member of the choir, I pay zero attention to the sermon. That's not where I get my God in my worship. That's in the singing. So my friend Isaiah and I are notorious for being on our blackberries during the sermon. It's a good way to pass the time, but we figured it was kind of a little bit rude, so we're not allowed to use our phones from organ to organ during services during Lent. Let me tell you: it's HARD.

But what I got out of the sermon that day was pretty interesting. The rector talked a lot about finding and exploring one's personal wilderness during Lent. For some people this could be thinking about how life is different from what they know in developing countries. For others it might be struggling with some sort of addiction. He said that for yet others it might be taking time to explore and reflect on some of the darker parts of ourselves. That's what hit me. I do have my own dark spot, in fact. I'll get to that in a minute.

So, wilderness. I am perfectly happy in what I consider the actual wilderness--surrounded by trees, flowers, flowing water, nature--that is my happy place. I love the mountains. I've got several I consider to be at least partially "mine" for some reason or another. Some people hate being outside, but I love it. Hiking, camping, climbing, backpacking, you name it, if it involves being outside and hanging out in the woods, I'm all over it. That's part of the reason for the blog name. Mountains that I consider my own. Then we get to the whole symbolic part of it...this personal wilderness I'm exploring, in which I am not at all comfortable, unlike the real wilderness...those are my mountains. They are mine to look at and contemplate and ignore if I will. They are also mine to explore. So I'm going to try to explore those mountains, as uncomfortable as it makes me, because I believe it will make me a better me.

I'm planning a wedding. Have I mentioned that? This blog will likely have lots of posts about my wedding and the plans that I have and all of the excitement surrounding it. It's on the horizon now...less than two months to go! Here's a catch: my fiance lives 4,000 miles away in Alaska (I'm in the Great State, by which of course I mean Georgia). I haven't seen him since the end of February, and won't until the week before the wedding. That's a big bummer. Here's a bigger catch: I'm planning this wedding without my dad. That's my big mountain. My biggest dark spot in my soul. In 2007, my dad was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia, or AML. He did all kinds of treatments in town, as well as at Emory. It didn't help. He died on September 11, 2008 (as I like to say, an appropriate day for a personal tragedy). I didn't talk about it much then. I hated when people told me how sorry they were. I hated more when they hugged me or touched me. I hated it the most when they told me that they understood.

I still don't talk about it much. It's hard, you see. It's not something that you ever get over, and it really is something that you deal with on a day-to-day basis. Some days it really is ok. Some days, though, I forget, just for a second. I pull up to my mom's house and think, "Oh, Dad's truck isn't here, he must still be at work." Then I think, "Oh." Then I cry. Some days it's not at all ok without forgetting.

I've been working hard at planning my wedding since I got engaged in October. Some days it's ok. Other days, when I let myself think about it too much, it's all-consuming; just about every girl dreams of having her father walk her down the aisle on her wedding day to give her away to her future husband. I thought the world of my father. So did a lot of people. His funeral was held at a church in town with a large sanctuary, one that can probably hold about 400 people. It was standing room only. Downtown shut down because every lawyer in town, as well as many other people who knew and respected and cared about this wonderful man was there. It was a wonderful tribute to his memory. I hope to make my wedding another wonderful tribute to his memory, without becoming and complete and utterly uncontrollable mess on the day. We'll see.

 So this post has been Very Serious Business and not much fun at all...but it had to be said. This, after all, is the whole reason for the blog. I need somewhere to reflect on the ups and downs of planning my wedding without my father, and with my fiance halfway across the world. I promise it won't always be Very Serious Business. Likely most times I'll talk about my fiance, or wedding plans, or other random things like how my apartment complex said they weren't going to do any showings of my apartment until after spring break (next week; I'm student teaching now, I NEED spring break), and then today they were like "oh, by the way, this guy wants to see your apartment Wednesday." WHAT.  Anyway. What I'm trying to say is not everything here is going to be a big ol' downer and about how much I miss my dad. Some of it will be, for sure. But there will be lots of other things going on as well.

And so, for now, dear readers (all few of you that there are), I bid you a good evening.