Chat
I�ve recently started an ongoing email conversation with a complete stranger.

As many times as my Mom has told me not to talk to strangers, you�d think I would learn. But no, I�m always ready to strike up conversations when and where they happen. Unless the person involved is, you know, loco in the cabeza. And even then, I�d probably get a few sentences in before it really hit me that this person could probably leap over and harm me in some way if I disagreed with them. Only then would I abandon the debate and begin the slow shuffle backwards, toward safety.

Then I discovered the internet, and the chat that lies therein. Oh, I was hooked my friends. From the get-go. But I wasn�t a chat social butterfly, flitting merrily from room to room. I like to get to know the people who are typing from another location, sometimes the other side of the globe. I used to keep journals listing user names, real names, partners, children, education, employ, birthdates, etc. etc. etc. almost obsessively. I still have them somewhere; information on people I will never meet and with whom I have totally lost touch.

I guess I�ve made three major shifts in the online communities I�ve frequented over the past 10 years. The first was a rag-tag group of people from the four winds who spent their days chatting in that sad, pitiful language we call �chat shorthand�. They were funny, so I stuck around for the better part of a year. But regardless of what the geeks tell you, funny isn�t everything.

One day I was in chat and would up in a private room with three of the more interesting of the bunch. Bouncer mentioned that he easily tired of the antics in Main Chat and would toddle over to another group. He gave me the address and told me to introduce myself when I went in immediately, since they weren�t big on no strangers comin� in and disturbing the peace. I know them now as trolls.

What I found in this oasis of intelligence was a group of people who were comfortable with each other and generous to newcomers. They even arranged each year to have a reunion so we could enjoy the snark in person. It was in the summer of 200 that I took the risk and drove to Pennsylvania by myself to meet up with them. My family thought I was a nutter and that they would have to go down and claim various body parts when I went missing. Happily, I remained alive and had one hell of a great weekend to boot. Robin was so sad that I was forced to watch her weeping and waving in my rear view mirror as I pulled out of her laneway.

One year later, as I was working through my bookmarks, I saw a message on Sara�s site. It was the announcement of a new online community called Three Way Action, with Sara acting as one of the creators. Since I had always enjoyed Sara�s writing, I popped over to take a peek. I liked what I saw and signed up that day. Since that time, I�ve been involved in auctions, secret pals and the best damn chat there is. They make quick work of trolls and moderate their boards with an iron fist in a velvet glove. I�ve also made some wonderful friends and increased the size of my bookmarks file tenfold.

We�ve added members, lost members, created merchandise and gone to a paid model. Two of the three founding members remain, aided by a bunch of talented individuals who volunteer their time in a number of ways. We have all come to realize this venture is taking on a life of its own. I�ve learned more from those boards and discussion threads than I could have through one hundred years of formal schooling.

So if you want to start up a spontaneous conversation with me, whether it�s about Canada/U.S. relations or quotes from John Cusack movies, I�m listening.

Posted at 3:47 p.m.