Both of the event planners greeted me warmly, smile and hug. They were so engaging it was as if we’d known each other for a while. We spoke in the greenroom and prepared for the event, unsure who would come or how many friends would bring friends. So we gathered together and prayed simple prayers.
We continued to talk and laugh about life, boys, failed jobs, and the birth of new dreams. And then they said it.
Ok, Katie and I kinda have a crush on you. We read your blog, facebook, and twitter! I know, it sounds stalkerish but we feel like we know you.
Then the whole room changed. I knew why I felt innately connected to Katie and Lauren—we knew each other! So it might not be the memories from around the campfire, down the halls of high school, or in cubicles at work, but they knew me. And in this weird, creepy, cyber way, I felt like I knew them too.
This is Lauren. We are Twitterpated.
As the doors opened for the event and the room filled with new faces, I was shocked to see how many blog readers were there. They were only a small percentage of the group, but the ability to meet blog readers who share my ideals, are equally as random, and desire to dream big dreams while working a 9to5 desk job was phenomenal.
Egyptian girls (hi, Giselle!), Orange County girls, Puerto Rican girls, new blog readers, old blog readers, reserved women, and even crazy, loud-mouthed women came by to say hi, hello, how’s married life. I couldn’t have been more blessed to have spent my Saturday night with a group of fun-loving friends!
If you come here on a regular basis, part-time basis, or you happened to stumble on this blog, THANK YOU. It’s very few places where I feel I can speak freely. But it’s also a place where you can be known, loved, and speak freely. We may not have it all figured out, but let’s walk this journey together… yes, as weird Internet friends 🙂
One day I’ll plan a lunch for blog readers. We can come together and talk about life, boys (or girls), jobs failed, and dreams yet to come. Until then, we’ll sit around pretend campfires, walk illusive high school halls, and whisper to the next cubicle over and think it’s someone we know.
In the name of love,
B
Thanx