Circles.

In American Sign Language, the sign for “family” is created by making two letter “F’s”–one with each hand–and then drawing them around in a circle to meet again on the opposite shore. It’s about creating an enclosed space in air, a visual representation of an emotional reality.

When I think of the circles of emotion that resonate in my life, I certainly do include the circle of bloggers that I have come to know during the past two years or so through the written word, over the computer screen, as their narratives have unfolded piece by piece, without much pretense, in that way that is unique to blogging. The bloggers I read are united by a common thread, a community, which is the world of international adoption. That is the online neighborhood of which I am a part. Within that neighborhood, there are particular houses I visit, more specific reasons why I follow who I follow, read who I read, and I’ve been trying to pin that down lately, in my own mind.

For me, the bloggers I follow are of three or so ilks. No–scratch that. It’s ME that’s really being defined here, not the blogs. But, rather, ME, as the audience of the blogs. So, here are the reasons why I read:

First, the blog-candy. Or, more precisely, the baby-candy. Blogs I look at, more than read. Many of my fellow bloggers are guilty of this indulgence come referral time, but a few candy blogs have indeed stuck to the roof of my virtual mouth. I also find my own blog teetering in the direction of baby-candy, now that The Bee is home. I’m not sure why. I suppose it’s easy enough to throw up a photo or two and be satisfied with a post created. Perhaps, too, it’s a self-protective move, despite the loss of privacy that results from posting photos to the web in the first place. If I concentrate on the daughter’s lovely smile, I don’t have to try and explain myself on the controversial subject of the day, which I have found is almost always a losing battle on the faceless internets anyway. There is more than a little to be said for face-to-face discussion, especially when an argument is brewing. Newborns learn to read faces for a reason. Survival.

Second, the blogs not put off by controversy. The intellectual bloggers. The Ones Who Have Something To Say. I like to read people who are engaged with ideas, mostly because I’m not anymore. I wish I could say I had enough time to read all the links, look at all the videos, that accompany Engaged Bloggers, but clicking on links was one of the first things that went when I came home with The Bee. I read the main posts now, but nearly never click over to read links anymore. Despite that admission, I still enjoy a person who has something to say. I admire it. I sometimes wish more people said More, myself included. And I wish more people listened when the More is said.

Third, and by far the most urgent reason of the bunch, is that I read blogs to follow A Story. Interestingly, this more important reason didn’t exist for me when I first began blogging. It takes time. It takes time to know another blogger’s backstory–the details, the personal gripes, the tragedies, the job(s), the pets, the kids, the vacation destinations, the unfoldings of a day. And then a week. A month. A year. And soon, soon…I have to know. I have to know what’s going on over that blogger’s morning cup of joe. Not really what’s going on, of course. But what they want to tell me. The Story they’re weaving of themselves.

I’ve also, of course, stopped reading some blogs over the course of the past year. Deleted some from my Bloglines (and, yes, I’ve been converted to Bloglines post-mommyhood, if any of MY diehard readers remember that perverse rant against it I posted last winter). Partly, I think, your experiences shape your interests…new experiences, new interests, new blogs. Or, maybe I should say that your new experiences tend to edit your life for you. Certainly, I read more blogs now that include children adopted with special needs than I used to. I never read blogs focused on infertility anymore–unless, by default, they’re also part of the world of adoption.

In the course of following these Stories, a handful of bloggers have also become email buddies and snail mail buddies and even–fewer still–I have exchanged facial expressions with. I am the first to admit to the limitations of the internets, to the insanity, to the cruelty, to the drama, to the tedium that can develop–in fact, that can be nurtured–in an online medium. Snark is fun, satire is priceless, but edginess is, by definition, capable of cutting. And so it goes. People also change, move into and out of circles, become a different audience. I accept the vagaries and the risks of interacting this way, even when I want to scream and run and pull each hair out of my head individually with a tweezers. Families are like that sometimes. And there are times I don’t accept those vagaries and risks and drama and tedium. I like circles both for what they keep in and for what they keep out. And I love watching the ways in which other people draw them for themselves.