On Being Back on the Grid

In more ways than one, I have returned.

First, I'm writing in this here blog. Which several of you actually noticed I hadn't been doing lately. (Awwww....you care!) Second, I have internet access available to me almost every minute of the day, which is something I have come to learn is vitally important. You think I’m kidding, but I’m as serious as Condi at a press conference. You don’t realize how much this wacky thing we call the web has infiltrated your daily life until you actually have to travel in order to access it. (And then stand up to use it.) Let's look at an example.

Last Thursday, I moved into my apartment in downtown Boulder. Psyched as I was to finally have all my stuff back in my possession, something felt slightly off. I realized that I was jonesing for my computer (how depressingly 21st Century is that, people). So I rushed over to the big Dell box and unpacked it, setting everything up carefully on my two-legged desk.*

But even once the computer itself was up and running, I still had no internet—and didn’t know when I’d be getting it. This was because the day I moved in my upstairs neighbor came down to say hello (we're not in NYC anymore, my friends) and our first decision was to go in for wireless internet together. Being Boulder, no deadline had yet been set. (Note: Upstairs neighbor hereafter referred to as Veggie Boy. Not because of his eating habits, which are suitably carnivorous, but because of his job, which is selling organic produce. An even more suitable name would be Ganja Boy, but who knows if his mother is reading this?)

It took only one more night before I was upstairs knock-knock-knocking on Veggie’s door, to lay down some internet-getting plans. It so happened that it was Friday night, and he invited me in. He was hanging out with a tall and very lanky bloke from Valparaiso, IN. Together we decided to go out for Vietnamese food, which Boulder is known for. Another thing Boulder is known for is a nightlife that shuts down at 10pm, and as it was almost that time, we needed to go online to check the restaurant’s hours. Which is when I realized that Veggie Boy already had internet. Or seemed to. In fact, he had been making use of some of them wireless waves what’s blowing through our heads all the time, unbeknownst to us. But they are knownst to Veggie Boy, and he was pirating them.

Enough with the waiting for cable, says I, dashing out to Best Buy the next day to purchase a wireless adapter. I am now the proud user of some of them wireless waves myself. (This is not stealing, people. It said so in an article in the Times just last week.)

The moment my (I'm using the term "my" loosely here) internet was up and running, it was like the whole universe fell back into its grooves. I suddenly didn't mind that my new apartment is, like, the farthest thing from being new you've ever seen. I stopped seething over the fact that it smells like your grandma's house.** And I started actually unpacking the boxes that were strewn about me, finally feeling like I had arrived.

*Casualty of the move. Don't ask.
**A direct quote from Jane Yamanaka.