Isolation and the Internet - a Year at the River

My view out the car window as I leave for a meeting this morning.

If I were keeping a scorecard of how I've been doing compared to what I thought I'd have been doing, then I might not be doing so well as I come to the final week of my first month at the river.   I envisioned this year as a Waldenesque exploration of myself in semi-hermitage married with a hyper-productive schedule of research and writing.

From the moment I started thinking about moving to the river for a year I've had in mind that this is my year to write a book. I have the topic narrowed to two possibilities: fashion designer, Norman Norell, or, or maybe and, journalist ex-pat Janet Flanner.  What better opportunity will I ever have to devote long hours to writing interrupted only by a couple of days a week when I have to go to Indianapolis for work.

So far, things haven't worked out quite as expected. My pipes have frozen twice since I've been here. New insulation in the basement on the to-do list.  Oh, and my car's alternator has given up the ghost twice in two weeks. At least it was still under warranty the second time.  Frustrating and time-consuming.

But the real story behind my so-far lack of Thoreauvian zen is that until very recently I had neither a reliable internet connection nor a TV connection. The latter I could do without, but not unless I have the former. With neither I have been feeling isolated and lonely. Two feelings I don't experience often and don't know how to embrace as the life lessons they undoubtedly offer.

Instead I spent my time in Indianapolis searching ways to get connected in rural Shelby County.  TV is out. No place to put a dish and my electric-powered antenna, so far, only receives channels starting at 63. Those seem to be an all-Rocky channel, and three shopping channels.  I did order a nice eyebrow liner pencil. But I can spend less than 20 minutes watching and hearing about the fabulous pet shampoo that smells like the beach invented by a Prince, or maybe he was a Count?

Ok. I can easily give up broadcast TV. I do get enough radio reception for NPR thankfully.  But what I really wanted, what I desperately needed to enjoy my rural life, was the internets.  Verizon's 4G network. Nope, not in the river valley. So it's a DSL line for me. 5Mbps. I learned that means megabits not megabytes per second. And I learned that's nothing to get excited about.  But I was. I am. I am connected again.  And my TDS installer, who's also on the volunteer fire department in case I ever need them, promised me they are ready to drop a gigabyte into the service so I'll soon be humming along at 12 Mbps.  Whoop!

So now I can get on the worldwide web. I can stream TV.  I'm caught up on Downton Abbey. Starting House of Cards.

It's so reassuring. Like a big bear hug of technology. 

For the times when I'm not watching the river ice dam break, sending the ice roaring up the banks and over the dam. Or watching how that one stripy sparrow hogs all the birdseed, chasing off the titmice and the black-capped chickadees. Ruling her little seedy roost. Until the Bue Jays show up.

It's ok. I think I'll be fine. Facebook is at my beckon call now.  I'm finding it far less interesting than before, but sure am glad I can hop on once in a while to see what the rest of you are up to. 

Maybe I can make time for some research soon. After all, I have a book to write.