It is almost 1AM. Read this post at your own risk. Ramblings ahead.
My laptop is alive again. You have no idea of the immense relief that this fact gives me. More than two weeks ago I decided to clean it up and reinstall everything to factory settings to help recover some of its old speed. The operating system would not install. I tried many times and it wouldn't, kept saying there was an error somewhere. I did research online and the symptoms pointed to a problem with the internet connection. Then our internet service went wonky for almost two weeks. I had to wait before calling customer service because we had to scrape the cash to pay off the balance in the bill, just to be sure that we are not simply being disconnected for overdue payments.
It turned out there really was a technical problem with the service and it's all fixed now and I finally got to reinstall the system in the laptop and I am so relieved. I would not have been able to afford a new one if this old laptop (a six-year old Macbook Pro) died. I need it for my dayjob projects which almost always requires a presentation, and I work best with Apple's Keynote rather than Microsoft's Powerpoint. It would have crippled me to lose this laptop. And I think it would not have made a good impression on my clients for me to have to borrow their own machines to make my presentations.
I think the threat of almost losing the laptop two weeks ago was one of those layers that added to the pressure that led me to decide to put my art on hold and to focus on the money-making dayjobs. I could have easily lived without a laptop if I were a full-time artist. I have a desktop and a tablet that served my creative needs. But I still needed to do the dayjob work and not having a laptop is unthinkable in this day and age, and for a freelancer.
The thought that if I lost it and that I would be utterly helpless and without any recourse for a replacement further impressed upon me the direness of my situation. So out of frustration, exasperation, desperation, and sheer loss of hope and shattering of faith, I decided on a break-up. With my art. A cool-off.
Believe me, all those memes and cartoons of people missing out on the last crucial turn or step to success because they gave up too soon ran through my head.
But unless I get an unmistakable huge flashing neon sign that says "Keep going with the creative journey" and with an unmistakable Undisguised Blessing, and a cache of cash that would last me the rest of the year at the very least, then I am pushing forward with the day job detour. Because I have been hardworking and trusting and faithful and hopeful and even so much more patient than I have ever been in my entire life, but the magic's not sparking enough. And I don't know if it's me or my art or the people around me or am I just really in the wrong at the wrong time, or if am I simply wrong about everything.
The break was a logical rational thing to do. I need to be composed for dayjob work, not always wanting to run away to grow imaginary gardens and play at artshop-keeping.
But I suspect the break was also a punishment of a sort. Because I failed. And perhaps I was naive. And silly. And foolish.
I'll try to sleep now.