On Sibling Rivalry

Owl Brook Oinkers

I've been thinking about starting a blog for quite some time. I've even known what I wanted it to be called. My thoughts have  started to arrange themselves into neat little posts during my morning walks and I have a small stock pile of budding blog ideas. But I hadn't really found the right motivation to move forward. 

Until now.

You see, I'm in the habit of over-thinking things. Continuously. For everything. And before I started a blog, I wanted there to be a good reason behind it. Why? Well, I'm a little self-righteous. And whenever possible, I like to do things in support of some noble purpose. You know, if I was educating the masses, say, or ending world hunger, or at least forwarding some really enlightening philosophy, then starting a blog would be justified.

Obviously, people start blogs all the time with no justification whatsoever. On a whim even. A friend of mine just did this in fact. While I'm sitting here trying to figure out how a post on remodeling my kitchen could somehow free us from dependence on foreign oil, he nonchalantly mentions on facebook that he is now blogging. I assume for no other reason than the fact that other people blog, and he thought he might try it. Initially my reaction to this was something like Waddaya mean you just started a blog?!?!! You can't just start blogs!! You have to have a reason! It did get me thinking, though. If he could just start one, (or three, you over-achiever) then maybe I could too. But still, this wasn't quite enough for me. But it turns out it didn't have to be, because I now have the greatest motivator of all.

Sibling Rivalry.

I grew up in a family of seven children. People hear this and tend to imagine that it must have been great. Think of all that familial love! Like we were the Waltons or something, building people pyramids on the front lawn and posing for kooky pictures. Quietly offering each other well-aimed advice, sitcom style, and lending a hand when the going got rough. In reality though, we were more of a scratch and claw bunch. We locked each other in closets. We called each other names. We got into spitting fights. At the beginning of each new school year I would write long essays about how my little sister ruined my summer vacation just by breathing. I can't be sure, but I might have even convinced her at one point that she was adopted. And you can imagine how this kind of thing escalated when we reached high school and found ourselves liking the same boys.

As I've gotten older though, this rivalry has started working to my advantage. Just after I finished high school I made one of those false starts at college. I took a semester or two and then just stopped for a couple of years. My little sister starting school and the very real possibility that she might graduate before me was just the kick in the pants I needed to go seriously pursue a degree. I didn't actually get going with Etsy until somebody else looked into it first. And now, just recently, one of them launched an entire website. And released an album. Pretty much simultaneously. 

Now I make art too, but handing somebody a bowl with a flower on it to see if they think it's pretty just isn't the same thing as creating music, writing lyrics, putting it all together on a platter, handing it and yourself over to the general public and then waiting to see if they want to stab you with forks. It's just not. So I figure if she can do all of this and be so f-ing awesome, then the least I should be able to do is get this little blog together. I'll just have to figure out how to bring peace and love to the planet another time.

And so here I am.

But clearly I'm in trouble. Because she's just one of six, remember. And every last one of them is a smart, talented motherfucker. Some of them have even threatened to write books.

I may have to become President.