When bloggers collide

Contrary to the opinions of many about meet-ups between those who know one another solely through the internet, Ant and I both turned out not to be 60-year old ex-cons.

(Wanting corrobarating evidence? Check out his artful assessment of me and our assorted hijinks. Though we really could both be working together as crafty ex-cons
..... So, anyone wanna come meet? I will make lemonade and we can have a pyjama party!)

As I mentioned in the previous post, still being a relative amateur at this blogging thing, my weekend encounter with the worldly Scotsman was my first attempt at blurring the boundaries between the blog world and my real life. And thus, though getting the sense through his comic but observant musings and our regular exchange of comments that we would likely get along rather smoothly in real life, my mind was also amenable to the possibility that the next five or so hours would have a substantial potential for awkwardness.

Perhaps it does speak to the power of this medium of communication that the most awkward part of the day was holding up a bright pink sign at the train station to aid in the recognition process. Once he sauntered through the gates, I'm quite sure that there wasn't more than a few moments of silence (mostly due to umbrella induced breaks in conversation while negotiating the rainy sidewalk) for the entire day. It did actually appear as though our online communications had served the same purpose as getting to know you conversations in the more typical venues/mediums.

One of the more interesting things was to actually have a conversation about the nature of blogging. As I've mentioned a few times previous, I am fairly invested in my anonymity. As such, those people in my day-to-day life aren't even aware that I am writing in any form outside of the academic, meaning that I don't really verbalize any issues that may arise in bloggie-land. Talking to someone who is a part of that network kind of validates these odd (but genuine) relationships I've found myself in. I started literally laughing out loud when I referred to myself by my blogger name out loud-- it sounded so very strange to refer to oneself as "Princess".

An apparently positive aspect of anonymity, however, is the sense that I am being true to myself, and that was confirmed in my interactions with Ant. He said that I was quite similar to the person conveyed in my writing. I found this a relief, somehow, as though by being guarded in my actual identity allows me to be free in my self-expression. I'm glad to see that I am not portraying myself as something I'm not. Further reassuring me of this point was the fact that, though you never can quite predict the exact quirks of another person through their writing, I felt as though he was being equally sincere.

The flip side to our serious conversations was our propensity for immature displays of humour. As conveyed photographically in the link above, we served as quite poor chaperones for our stuffed friends, Titus and Phelony. What the photos don't betray is the fact that the two stuffed maniacs had merely being propped up on the table as we were having some sort of regular conversation, when somehow the table was bumped, and Titus toppelled forward, his head straight into Phelony's lap. We promptly dissolved into fits of giggles, and, as was recounted, began a fierce competition of positioning the two frisky beasts in the most shocking manners possible when they other person was in the bathroom. Though it is a little embarassing to be seen by oneself at a restaurant table trying to best arrange a stuffed Moomin between a stuffed Tasmanian devil's knees. The waitress looked more and more disturbed upon every refill attempt.

We drank in the afternoon, wandered the waterfront, snapped photos, indulged in a little caffeine (though my attempt to verse him in our coffee culture failed, as he insisted on ordering a black coffee and snickered at my multi-adjectived latte), and I promptly returned him to the train station at 5pm.
And then I walked back out the door into a world where these words are again-- for better or for worse-- my little secret.