I had no internet connection at home since Thursday. I almost went mad.
I wanted to write about so many things. I wanted to blog and to do research. I attended the Imaginarium, the multi-arts festival of the absurd, and had a grand, grand time. I watched two to three shows per day and was amazed by what I saw. I got to see the Korean dance company SEOP Dance Company and their work Red Exorcism and I also got to see Daloy Dance Company with their work Dysmorphilia and they were all so amazing. I wanted to write about it but couldn’t.
I wasn’t online.
For the past five days, I was relying on an intermittent 3G connection from my mobile phone and it was tough. I didn’t realise how faulty the signal was for my carrier in my home. When I’m home, I could always rely on the internet to carry me through. Most of my communications involve WhatsApp, Viber, and iMessage anyway.
These are the little things we take for granted.
I was on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook at the mercy of my connection and it wasn’t reliable.
The weekend came and I was distraught. I was so inspired and I wanted to do research. I wanted to work and write but I couldn’t. I needed to do serious research and I couldn’t because I had no access. I spent most of each day contacting and complaining to my service provider for technical assistance and it only came today. With a jiggle and a snap, the modem started working. I don’t know what he did, but it worked.
If I was really desperate, I would’ve gone to someone’s house but this was deep writing that I needed to be in my safe place at home where I could work. I have my post-its and index cards sticky-taped to my wall with my notes. I needed space to pace and to play my music loud. This wasn’t the sort of thing that I could just go anywhere to do. I’ve become a very spoiled writer in my older age.
It’s the way it is and I have to deal with it. That’s my creative process.