Some of the blogs I follow were established for a specific purpose -- product reviews, film criticism, recipe-sharing. I love that there are those out there who know what their vision is for self-expression, and can discipline themselves to keep their musings to a particular topic.
Not me, so much.
I started this blog ages ago with no clue as to what I wanted to explore, capture, share or learn. I just started thinking and typing. As a result, over the last two years, this blog has seen its share of diverse topics. Very little of it hangs together (though the recent addition of lots of baby-related posts suggests an emerging emphasis).
That's why it's so incredibly flattering to me that anyone would read what I have to say here on anything approximating a regular basis. Sure -- if I wrote exclusively about tree frogs, then there would be amphibian-enthusiasts who checked me once a month for a new posting about adhesive feet or multiple sets of eyelids or something.
But no. I toss out random entries on diaper blowouts, control issues and how I eat M&Ms. I post musings about cab rides in Los Angeles, things that make me smile, and explanations of what I like about reading novels. If you graphically approximated the topics I cover with a scattergram, you'd have something that looked like the big-bang theory -- dots everywhere, with no discernible pattern.
And yet, my 23-year-old brother checks this blog every night. I get e-mails or text messages at midnight or later telling me that he's read the latest post and loved it. On other occasions, when I've alluded to a post, he's right there with me, quoting myself back to me with sincerity and earnestness. I still have the text message he sent me one night when I texted him that there was a new post as of the night before. "already read it. dont u know im your biggest fan? :) "
His regular readership is all the more ego-boosting to me because I think he's one of the best things that ever happened to me. Though ten years younger than me, he's the one who has steered me to elements of pop culture I love that I never would have discovered otherwise (like "The Office," "Family Guy" and more). He is constantly making me laugh -- me, and everyone else who knows him -- he's cripplingly funny. He has always, always accepted me for who I am, never once seeming to go through that "my-older-sister-is-so-very-LAME" phase that has struck just about every other younger sibling I've ever known. He always helps me when I need him, whether it's with rebooting my iPhone, creating custom ringtones, taking out the trash at my house when I was nine months pregnant and my husband had to travel for work, or helping my neighbors get into their house when they locked themselves out (he's got mad lock-picking skills). When I'm down, he reaches out to tell me he believes in me, and that it'll be ok. When I've had some small victory in my life, he celebrates with me, even if it's as small as losing three pounds, or as unrelated to him as enjoying a great night of swing-dance-teaching.
And it's not just ME to whom he's amazing. He's so supportive of our mom, acting as a sounding-board when she needs it, a shoulder to lean on when it's required. He's a great brother-in-law to my husband -- they think the same way, and seeing them enjoy each other's company warms me to my core. Best of all, my brother adores my son, and delights in his babyness in a way that melts me. He's an incredible uncle to my little guy, and I can think of no greater wish than that my son grows up to be like his youngest uncle.
And so, youngest brother -- this one's for you. I am YOUR biggest fan. I will always rejoice in whatever brings you joy, whether it's a good bowl of Thai soup, an amazing friend and partner in miss M (as I call your girlfriend), or an entire season of Seinfeld on DVD. Thank you for making this disjointed little blog a part of your daily life. Thank you for reading it sincerely and absorbing it for the random things it says about me. Thank you for making me feel interesting -- because if YOU, whom I find fascinating, think I'm interesting, maybe there's hope for me yet.
My life is better because you're in it.