Cafe wireless? Now I know I’m a pro.

Laptops. Artists and laptops. Is one a prerequisite for the other?

I must admit: I’m a laptop newbie. I’ve only had my beautiful MacBook, named Cleopatra, since July. Before this best-birthday-present-ever I’d only ever been able to call myself a desktop computer owner, and the sight of my friends’ laptops, while inspiring the odd thoughts of envy, simply perplexed me. I didn’t know what to make of the “mouse” that wasn’t, this strange square I had to pull my finger across to make things happen. Macs, I understood, having worked at a newspaper office inhabited by Marvin, iMacDaddy, and the oh-so-moody Bonnie. But the combination of the two? A dream I didn’t experience until age 22.

This morning, after crawling out of bed and sleepily making myself a cup of coffee, I sat down to check my email only to discover that the internet was not working. There was no wireless connection, and, being a sneaky little signal-stealer from who-knows-where, there was nothing I could do about it!

In a panic, I called Sarah, for I knew from endless Indyish team meets that she was a MacBook-er and a wireless café devotee. I, a relative neophyte, didn’t even know where the nearest wireless connection was! Sarah calmed my hysterics and told me where to go.

So I’m here, reflecting on the pure enjoyment I’m feeling from sitting in a crowded Mile End hotspot for caffeine addicts, a near-empty cup of coffee to my right and a crowd of loud Italians on my left, jazz music playing in the background and a silent TV strapped to the ceiling above me, and I do indeed feel like a professional.  Like I’ve achieved something grand simply by venturing out of my apartment with my laptop to work solo in a café.

Ridiculous? I’m not sure. I do know that at the beginning of September, when I went back to school full-time and cut down my working hours to part-time, I convinced my boss that working from home would be best for me. I’d always dreamed of working from home, just like the true freelancers I wanted to emulate. I could sit on my bed with my coffee, in my pj’s, and get my work done on whatever schedule I wanted so long as I met my deadlines. Bliss! (Again, Sarah played a role in this, with her post on freelancers who work from home, which just served to motivate me more to create such a situation for myself.)

Now here I am at Club Social and I don’t feel like leaving anytime soon. Granted, I’m not exactly sure what a café-writer does when they have to use the facilities and don’t want to leave their laptop unattended, but I’m sure my friendly neighbours wouldn’t mind watching it. Especially if I let them check their email. (Is this just a little too naive for a 21st century girl?)

Crossing this barrier was like earning a PhD in being an indie artist. Though I’ve done nothing more than walk two blocks, it’s as if I just graduated from the School of Self-Sufficiency with a major in Your Craft and Technology.

Am I completely out of my mind, or is there some truth in my ramblings? Does the fact that I can now officially and truthfully say that I have written in a café on my laptop mean something? All these years, I’ve watched others do it as I longed to join the club. Now that I’m “in,” does it really mean that I’ve crossed a barrier and am a Writer, rather than a wannabe?

Point is, regardless of the circumstances that led to it, I ventured out of my at-home rut and installed my writing self out in public, and I’m darn proud of it. Yeah, I think I’ve earned some art-cred.