Living without easy access to internet was surprisingly strange. If anything, it felt like I'd travelled back in time eight years, when I mostly hung out at the mall or the college, sitting in my car drawing, writing, or reading. An untethered little existence, and I have to admit I identified very much with Judi Dench's character in Notes on a Scandal, which I watched a few days ago*.
I truly didn't know if I was ever going to get this computer back, and so I begged people I know for use of their computers to work on my comic. But it was as if the gods were actively trying to deny me internet access. First I tried my mother's house, and I worked on my comic for one day there. However, her internet connexion just suddenly went on the fritz and was only there in spurts. And after that day, my mother, who seems to regard me as a walking virus when it comes to her computer, wouldn't let me touch the thing again because she was convinced I'd somehow caused the problems.
My next resort was Tim, on whose second computer, which is hooked to a widescreen television, I normally play Oblivion. Things seemed absolutely fine on his computer, and I got a lot of work done, except yesterday it started crapping out and restarting randomly. First just programmes, but then soon the whole shebang. Internet usage is somewhat awkward there anyway, as my weak eyes are too far away to comfortably read the tiny text. So I'm very glad to have this thing again. I know, it's only been a few days, hardly even enough time to relieve anyone reading of their Setsuled-fatigue, but it seemed like an eternity to me, especially since I missed Zombie Apocalypse Day.
*Sorry, sovay, but I thought the Philip Glass music was perfect. I thought it brought a wonderful stream of tension--it knotted my gut.