Piercing the Real World

I am no different from any other aspiring blogger, except that I’m a fictional character. Twice a week I’ve scraped out my heart and soul and posted the resulting glop online. I’ve written about thoughts that have made me laugh and about people who’ve made me cry. I’ve been witty, deep, careless, mindful, obnoxious, or charming, depending on my mood.  Writing the journal has enabled me to navigate my thoughts. Writing the journal online has allowed me to pierce the real world in ways most fictional characters have never known, and that—has made all the difference.

When my first Google Follower appeared on my sidebar I felt I’d taken a giant leap outside the written page. What a tremendous sense of validation!  It was as if a passerby, a stranger, had paused in front of me and said, “Oh, hello there. I see you, and by the way, I like you too.”

My relationship with readers only grew more interesting from there. I ran polls and readers responded, impacting the flow of my life. I ran a contest asking readers to finish the sentence, “Happiness is—”. The winner of this contest received a spunky handmade t-shirt. I on the other hand, got to see the beautiful minds of my readers, as expressed in their responses. You can see a mash-up of those responses here.


Over the last two years, I’ve received comments from an assortment of fictional readers, like Fake Steve Balmer, The Murray’s, Kira Jay, and Harry Zade. I’ve also received comments from many real life readers, including Doug Worgul, author of Thin Blue Smoke. All of this reader/character communication has been fantastic, but the most interesting encounter I’ve had, is meeting Caddie Murray. Caddie is fictional like me, but she is the most real person I’ve ever met and we became friends the instant she left her first comment. We comment on each other’s blogs profusely, and twice our stories have crossed as we’ve met face-to-face.



This blog has been quite an adventure and through it, I’ve grown.

Back in January 2010, shortly after I launched the blog, I posted this entry:

“2009 was a horrible year of loss, frustration, and disappointment. I was glad to see it end. The twenty plus preceding years weren't so hot either. If I were to choose a theme song that would capture the dysfunctional nature of my adolescence, the twisted elements of my teen years, and the consecutive failures of my young adult life, I would pick "Loser" by Beck, from Mellow Gold:

Soy
Un perdedor
I'm a loser baby...

“So I gratefully throw open the gates of 2010. It just feels different. In July I'll be twenty-five. I'm relieved to be single, and it looks like I'll be able to keep my job for at least another year. I went to a Thai restaurant last night and after inhaling fried banana and coconut ice cream, I opened my fortune cookie: You Will Soon Find More Adventure in Life.

Sigh.

I’m astounded to see how much my life has changed since then. Where I was once hopeless in relationships, I now prepare to marry the man of my dreams. Where I was once terrified of being alone, I now prepare to leave all my friends and family behind to travel into unfamiliar territory. Where I was once lost and flopping about without meaning or purpose, I now claim Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.

I no longer creep forward in trepidation. I walk confidently, with an outlook swelling in hope. I have never felt such joy.

In January 2012, I’ll travel to New Zealand where Ethan and I will be married, and then we’re off to Somalia for an assignment with Doctors Without Borders. My life in California has been swept into a typhoon of change. I have no more time for blogging, nor do I have the need. Tears spill from my eyes as I realize how much I will miss interacting with my readers, but the time has come for this blog to end.

I would not dare retrieve one ounce of the blood and tears I’ve poured into my blog. It has been well worth the time. I am grateful to every digital traveler who has stopped by to read, comment, or to simply observe. I have no doubt my transformation of heart has been a direct result of the people I’ve encountered on this magnificent journey—these wonderful people, who have helped me find my way, which includes you, dear, precious, reader, and I hope your visits have been as much of a pleasure for you as they have been a gift to me.



Now, as I prepare for the next phase of my life, I must say goodbye, and walk in through the out door.


The End.


KRISTEN




[But what about Millie, and the others? Check it out:  "Where are they now?"]