You people are amazing.
When I wrote up my college field trip experience for the Accretionary Wedge, I spent most of my time doubting whether I should do it. “Ogod, I I I me me me– I’m sick of I, and so is everyone else!” Seriously debated whether that wretched thing should be published. Did it anyway because, well, what the hell. At least you guys could look at the pretty pictures and skip the text.
Then Chris Rowan tweeted it, and so did Brian Romans (twice!) and Silver Fox. Andrew Alden blogged it. Callan Bentley, David Orr (who does dinos, too!), Lockwood, Coconino, and Suzanne all said incredibly kind things. And I suspect the sudden influx of followers on Twitter is somehow related.
I had no idea that babbling would strike such a chord. I shall now promptly give the credit for that post to Jim Bennett, because without him, never would’ve happened. Credit also goes to you, my dear readers, because without you, there’s no reason to spend time babbling on this blog. You truly make this all worthwhile.
So, my dear Silver Fox, yes, I will become your ghost writer, and pay need not be discussed. Compliments (and field trips!) are coinage enough. Same goes for all of you. Only problem is, you lot don’t need a ghostwriter – I’ve read your work, and believe me when I say that a ghostwriter would only get in the way of already perfect prose. You inspire, entertain, inform and enlighten just fine on your own. All I’d be there for is cleaning up the occasional typo. Which, I’ll have you know, is perfectly satisfactory if it means I get to spend more time with you!
Each day, I carry you with me. When I’m out on adventures, I’m thinking of you. Every time I snap a photo these days, it’s with the thought of what might delight you. You make these excursions far more meaningful than they would be otherwise. Every time there’s a new post from you, my world expands. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. Figured you should know that, and refer back to that truth in case you’re ever feeling like no one appreciates you.
I do. And I know I’m not alone.