Does Life Ever Make Sense

I ask myself this every day.  Why am I doing the things I am doing?  Why do I think the way I do?  Is what I think right or wrong?  Does it matter? 

I have a younger brother who is the beginnings of suave and debonair with a slight sense of dweeb and loser.  I say these latter parts not as an insult, but as a way in which he is sometime perceived by others.  Why are some people mean to him and others nice?  At the end of the day, this young man of 15 years old is one of the sweetest, obtuse, loving, vengeful, adorable, pimple faced shit to have ever graced this earth.  He'll kiss your puppy and take care of your kids as soon as he would strike you down with his ham-hock arms for insulting his family.  The child may be strange, beautiful, ugly, kind, mean and normal, but he is honorable, believes in chaste, will keep Chivalry alive until the day he dies.  And yet, he has no girlfriend and few friends.  But those who keep him, keep him in close company and cherish all that he has to offer.

I have an older brother, who at many times is like my kid brother who I have taught to grow.  To this day, there is an everlasting gripe between he and I, however small it may be.  Whenever we meet new people, whether it be because of our social interaction or my looks of maturity, I am always perceived as the older brother.  This has never really been a problem for us behind closed doors because as I have found with many people in my life, I can always be sought out in times of need or distress.  I can soothe those who may need it and rile those who are complacent. This is both a blessing and a curse.  I have found myself, many times, in situations that should have been well beyond my realm of maturity, but due to many mitigating circumstances, I fight my way out of them, bringing with me those that desire it.  In our childhood together, my older brother and I have found ourselves in many situations where my arrogance, combined with his insecurities have led me to act as the older sibling.  Whether it be teaching him to dance, to fight, to manipulate, to date, to hide or to reveal, I have always been there for him and in turn, he for me.  

I am really writing this post to give thanks at the beginning of this holiday season for my family.  My parents, without whom I would not be here, would not have screwed up, would not have succeeded, would not have tried and would not have sat lazily around when I could have been trying.  For my brothers, who have acted as my support and my pupils all at the same time.  To my father, who can wax poetic and roar like a wounded bear all in the span of a day, an hour a minute.  To my mother, who can be my greatest friend and my worst enemy in the blink of an eye.  

I could go on to my extended family who include my father's sister, one of my best friends in the world, but alas, classes call and if i want to persevere and survive, I must yield to her beckon.