In the category of be-careful-what-you-wish-for, we’ve been out of internet for an unparalleled three weeks. Of course, no-one is owning up to the swift and massive drain on our paltry 50GB of data (currently the most we are able to access, here in the Fringes) but I have my suspicions. But since those suspicions are grounded in the devastating loss of a great Canadian and the associated grief of a certain massive fan who has only a vaguely working knowledge of exactly how much data a YouTube video gobbles up….we shall quietly draw a veil across the whole event and instead I shall reflect upon the gift of no-internet.
We don't exactly have zero internet, it’s more of a case of diabolically s-l-o-w internet that precludes much more than checking email and/or the weather forecast. I’m actually writing a draft of this post in Scrivener (on October 28th, we roll-over on the 5th of November) whilst waiting for the NaNoWriMo site to load. I figured I should do something productive while I wait. I may easily get this whole post written before I get more than a white screen and a blue spinny-thing. Oh! A log-in screen! Frabjous day!
And yes, that was a bit of a giveaway, wasn’t it? Hopefully, by the time you read this, I’ll be well on my way to the target goal of 50,000 words. May the gods smile favourably upon me. I’m not sure I want to say much more about this right now - I manage to sabotage myself with alarming ease when it comes to my writing and this particular round of November lunacy is my quiet effort in an exorcism of some tired old baggage I’ve been toting around for far longer than seems sensible. Besides, I’ve done it before, right? I have a notebook, stickers and a box of my official novel-writing chocolate biscuits to hand. And tea, always tea. I simply cannot fail. :)
Right - so no internet.
It’s made my Instagram experiment an easy one, more on that anon. More importantly, though, it’s given me lots of time to ruminate on all of my internet habits and what I might want more of and what I can do with less of once it’s readily available to me again. I’m hopelessly without will-power though — I need to be an Abstainer rather than a Moderator — so I’m going to be looking for ways to give my interactions a merciless pruning. The first thing I want to tackle is my dependency upon that Moste Loathesome Entity known as Bloglovin. Ugh! Hideous creature. Apart from the eye-bleeding advertising, I find myself frequently being followed by rather dubious personages with questionable affiliations to soft-porn and mail-order brides. Serious. You can’t make this shit up. A dear and wise friend had the notion some time ago to use a Blogger page to track favourite reads — like in the good old days of having a blogroll — so perhaps that’s something to consider. Any and all suggestions, gratefully received.
Otherwise, I’ve been spending my days adjusting to the new rhythms of being back at work. It was a rough transition, I don’t mind admitting. I had become very happily accustomed to the rhythms of my not-working-outside-the-house days. I fell delightfully into a creative groove of writing and taking photographs, of time in the garden and time in the kitchen. Even with my physical limitations, which chafed at the time, I managed to find a happy sort of flow that delighted me in all ways. Going back to work - even though it’s never more than 4 hours of work per day — was very fraught with feeling….grief, resentment, discouragement. When he saw me struggling, B assured me that I needn’t carry on, but the truth of the matter is that my wages, paltry though they may be, keep us in the Extras. Music lessons, books, outings, not to mention, that great and beloved, four-hooved money-pit, Buzz. And so without that little bit of income, managing those things would be a strain. And financial strain, although a state in which I’m very well-versed and quite adept at managing, just isn’t a place I wish to dwell unnecessarily. So then, a wobble, a mind-set shift and I’m re-finding my groove. My shoulder - thanks to all of you who’ve asked after it - is bearing up well and I’m encouraged to feel it getting stronger.
November 5th - early morning
Daylight savings time, that wearisome dinosaur of a thing, is upon us.
I woke up at 4:30am (actually 5:30am) then finally got up at 5 (actually 6). The cat has super-feline powers of detection and can somehow sense, through the closed bedroom door, that my eyes are open and so immediately commences declarations of starvation at volumes that threaten to wake the entire household if I don’t leap out of bed and hurry to the kitchen to open up his tin of breakfast. He is, without a doubt, a tyrant and we are mere peasants under his paw.
I got a bit muddled in my thinking of whether it would be darker or lighter in the early morning and left The Ladies languishing in the closed coop a shade too long this morning - much to their extreme disgruntlement, which they were only happy to share with me once I finally opened them up. I’d been lost-in-scribble and only just lifted my head to notice that I could see the outline of trees against the lightening horizon. I scurried out in pajamas and wellies to let them out, apologizing profusely as I went. I remarked to the girl-child the other day that we spend an inordinate amount of time scurrying about to do the bidding of the various non-humans in our midst. She’s currently lobbying for the adoption of a pot-bellied pig, seizing upon my fondness for Mabel and Oscar, and I shudder to think of the manipulations of which such a darling beast would be capable. Which is precisely why it’s all very much hypothetical at this point - and quite likely to remain so!
The weather pendulum continues to swing wildly between unseasonably warm and surprisingly frigid. As such, my autumn garden routines are completely out of whack and I fear I’ll be caught napping once the weather finally decides to act appropriately. I still have manure to spread, a dirt-heap to relocate and the roses and strawberries to tuck in. The fact that it’s rained for the past two weekends hasn’t helped my to-do list at all.
Right - there’s much rolling about in my Thinker, but I believe I’ll save all that for another time. A large part of what I’ve learned over these past weeks of no-internet, is how well I do - how much more I’m actually capable of achieving - with a slower, gentler and minimally-distracted pace.
So I will leave you here, Dear Reader…with a promise to return….perhaps not as often for the duration of the November Lunacy, aka NaNoWriMo (which, I can happily report, is going well, if not exactly on target)…but return, I shall, and if you’re in receipt of my TinyLetter, I shall certainly send a postcard before long.