Last night, around 12:15 AM (which is prime time for me to be writing or programming), there was a completely random internet outage. This hasn't happened for about three years. So, after staring at my connection icon in shock for a moment, I forced myself to step back, sit-TF-down, and take a few deep breaths. I was present with myself and the world for a while; about three hours, as a matter of fact. It wasn't like I could get any work or art done, not easily.
Sometimes it takes a moment like that to start pondering what, exactly, you're even trying to do. It isn't that I haven't done anything; I've got some phat beats going on my DAW, I'm getting instinctive at 3D modeling, and I've made a number of wonderful contacts—but, I've also bounced between three different engines, and reorganized the art studio ground-up more than once.
I think I'm going to take at least three hours a week, and avoid everything electronic. I don't think it's inherently evil or anything; but it may be advantageous to reach that hard-reset point from something other than circumstance. Being so busy might be the enemy. Getting work done, might be keeping me from getting the job done. Knowing, might be keeping me from feeling.
Growing up, I was something of a nemophile—that is, a sort of spirit of the wilderness. I would spend hours, sometimes a full day, out on a country property just knowing the world for what it is. Of course, that was during an era in which the public internet literally didn't exist. My computer had maybe four megs of RAM and a 486, with a 200 MB hard drive. They weren't easy times for sheer-faced cultural reasons, but those escapades left me more complete. I now live in a city; with a development desktop, an i7 laptop, a 10" tablet, and an S8+ smartphone, which is all good; but it might also sporadically be the problem.
Three hours a week.