The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pens

I was going to title this post, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pans in honor of Rizzo, but since I don’t cook, it really didn’t make much inherent sense.  Warning, I never read the book (or saw the movie), so I only have a vague idea what it’s about.  The reason I swiped the title, however, is because of an interesting phenomena that has finally overtaken me.

But first, some background.  Of course.  I am an internet whore.  I love researching, surfing, rooting out, and wasting time on-line.  However, up until the election, I would have adamantly maintained that I did not make friends on-line.  My last ex used to talk about this friend or that friend that he had ‘met’ on-line.  I used to internally scoff at him because how can you make friends on-line?  People craft on-line personae which may or may not be close to their real-life personae.  I mean, sure, my on-line persona is pretty similar to my real-life one (only more bold.  I can type things on-line that I may only be thinking, but not saying in real life), but I remained convinced that more people were not as they appeared on-line than those who were as or near to their on-line portrayal. 

I have dated a few people I’ve met on the internet, and none of them have panned out, for various reasons.  Therefore, I scoffed the power of the internet. 

Until the last election.  Now, as you may have guessed, I’m pretty political.   Up until the election, though, I was pretty disillusioned by politics.  During the silly season, that changed.  There was something about then-candidate Obama that just resonated with me.  So, I started reading political blogs and such.  Then, John McCain went and chose Sarah Palin to be one heartbeat blah blah blah.  I didn’t know much about her, so I let my fingers do the walking.

Boy.  A little research opened my eyes to the, uh, marvel that is Sarah Palin.  I had to discover more about this woman, and I stumbled onto the ‘Flats and the marvelous AKM (Alaskan Muckraker (or Mudraker, in my mind)) who took on the onerous task of exposing the Alaskan governor for the rest of the US to see.  I grew quickly addicted to the blog and the people who posted in the comments.  The ‘Flats became a community, and I felt comfortable there.

Then, Obama got elected.  Things changed at the ‘Flats.  While the blog entries are still wonderful, the ‘community’ has changed, and not completely for the better.  I withdrew commenting, and I mostly just read the entries.  I expected that to be the end of that, except a couple of hardy female commenters from the blog started e-mailing me wondering where I went.  I responded, and correspondences were established.

Still, I hesitated to call these women friends.  After all, I had never met them in real life, so who knows how we would get along?  As time went on, however, I realized that my objection to calling on-line correspondences friendships because you don’t really ‘know’ the people on the other end of the intertubes was not valid.  In real life, one part of my persona is more prominent when I am with, say, Kiki than with Natasha, and vice-versa.  I don’t see either of them on a daily basis, and I am still very good friends with both.   In other words, I didn’t have to physically meet these women to feel a connection with them.  

Now, the reason for the title of the piece.  Besides the fact that these women are spread around the world (thus the traveling part), the one thing they all have in common is that they can write.  Each has a unique, passionate voice that NEEDS to be heard.  Thus, the pens addition to the title.

In addition, I got on Facebook, and more of the Mudflatters and I found each other.  I realized that somewhere in the last month or so, I dropped the ‘on-line’ from my description of my Mudflat friends because I feel close to these women, in varying degree, for differing reasons.  These are women with whom I would love to drink a beer gin and tonic. 

I would travel to Nantes to see Rizzo, and we would nearly drive her hubby crazy with all our insane chatter and giggling.  She would cook dinner, and I would provide the wit.  We would talk into the wee hours of the night.  She would be sipping her wine, and I would be drinking my gin and tonic.  We would wax poetic on the beauty that is Alan Rickman, as well as the fabulousness of the Obamas and Joe-the-VP.  Her hubby would look at us like we were nuts, which would make us laugh even harder.  If Irishgirl came along, well, then there’s no telling what we might do.

I would continue onto Sweden, maybe with the former two in tow, to visit the zany and lovely Brit Abroad and maybe meet her Viking, too.  She wouldn’t let us talk, however until she’d had her coffee WITH milk, and then she would be off and running–or walking the funny walk.  She and I would compare tats.  We would all have a big snowball fight, and then we would settle down to a lovely dinner cooked by Rizzo (sense a theme here?).

From there, I would swing to CA to visit Icy, and she would take me to the best damn sushi/Chinese food in town.  We would plan something devious and devilish to do, and hope that someone would have bail money to get us out.  I would make her take me to all the cheesy tourist traps just so we could laugh at them, and then I would be on my way to Washington State.

I would be busy in this state because I would have to visit Rubo, Topaz, and SillyWhabbit, all of whom live there.  I would want to go to the chimp sanctuary with Rubo (hoping to run into Helen and Margaret), and I would love to meet her soul mate.  Topaz and I would swap stories of life in the Bay Area, comparing lovers and tats.  Who knows?  We may get one together.  She could tell me all about getting detailed, and I could ask her for tips on finding my own mechanic.  As for SillyWhabbit, we would go to a protest, go have a shot or two, and do some acts of civil disobedience.  I have a feeling that if she and I were ever to hook up, we may unleash havoc unto the world.

Then, onto the treacherous territory of Alaska to visit Juno . I would bravely face getting hunted down by Sarah Palin in order to meet Juno.  She would show me around town, pointing out to me all the great things about Alaska and all the shitty things about it, too.  She would introduce me to Gryphen, and perhaps even AKM if that’s possible.  We would drink tons and tons of coffee as we hashed out the problems of the world.  Once we solved those, we would go to a club and shake our asses for the rest of the night. 

Finally, on my way back home, I would stop off at the great white north (I can see Canada from my house!) and visit Iratwo.  I would pick up a bag of oranges and a box of chocolates along the way.  When I get there, we would chop some wood or shovel up the dirt or some useful thing like that.  Then, she would teach me how to shoot a gun, and we would sit down to a great pasta meal by the fire.  I would have one or three cats in my lap, and she would be petting Ira as we talked into the wee hours of the night.

These women are all strong, creative, funny, smart women who have added so much to my life just by being in it.  I may not have met them, but I know them.  I lift my gin and tonic to each of you.  May I see you soon.