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Category: working

Desk Envy

Desk Envy

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I really can’t complain. I may not have the desk of my dreams, but it’s not bad. An apple-green table of a desk, only slightly dented and worn (a lopsided heart carved into the middle, a few splotches of salmon-pink paint in one corner, souvenirs of the girls who once used it).

True, it does not overlook the Atlantic Ocean, or the Front Range of the Rockies, or the harbor in Oban, Scotland. But it does have a lovely view of the backyard, the main street of the neighborhood and a corner of the woods beyond. 

My perfectly-fine desk doesn’t keep me from having desk envy, though. And last night I experienced a full dose of it while watching the movie “Something’s Gotta Give.” It wasn’t my first viewing of this film, but it was the first time I had desk envy watching it. 

Instead of focusing on the budding romance of Erica the playwright, I zeroed in on her writing space. The broad expanse of the (mahogany?) desk, the perfectly placed lamp. The windows! Oh, my gosh, the windows! And the door, open to sea breezes.

I keep telling myself it’s just a movie set. But still…

Up and Out

Up and Out

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Like many people these days I don’t need to leave my house to ply my trade. I can do it quite comfortably from my in-home office. The temptation, then, is to stay inside far too much, especially in the mornings, when I do most of my writing, and especially in winter, when it’s cold. 

But lately, I’ve been trundling out to a 9 a.m. Wednesday yoga class, climbing into a frigid car, battling rush-hour traffic (that again?!) and reaching class barely in time for sun salutations.

I love my small class — and the people in it. And I’ve come to realize that I also love getting up and out “early” one day of the week. Early is relative, of course. I used to leave the house before 7 every day. 

(A photo from the old days of “up and out.”)

Blanker Canvas

Blanker Canvas

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I’ve removed the standing desk from my office, a large black metal contraption that sat atop the scarred apple-green desktop. The standing desk was helpful when I spent more hours sitting. Now I’m free to jump up and down scores of times a day — and I do so, probably more often that I should.

But that’s another matter.

What I wanted to mention today is the geography of my workspace, how the terrain has changed. A vast, flat expanse has emerged now that I’ve removed the two-tiered standing desk. And with it gone, I realized I could shift the desk lamp from the far corner to the exact midpoint of the surface, between the windows, so as not to block the view of trees and sky. 

It’s a blanker canvas. A more open vista. It suits me now. 

(The prism that hangs between the windows makes rainbows on the walls.)

Bottom Lines

Bottom Lines

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For many years my professional goals were closely tied to the wages I needed to earn. I made a living from writing articles, editing a magazine, telling the stories of an organization. 

Now I’m glimpsing a different way of being, one where pen and keyboard are no longer expected to bring home the bacon. 

Both ways are worthy. Both ways work. They’re just very, very different, that’s all. 

(To be continued…)

A Single Step

A Single Step

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I live close enough to Dulles Airport that I can hear the planes taking off and landing, especially, I’m sorry to say, when windy or stormy weather requires the use of another runway. 

Until recently, though, the only way to reach the airport was by taxi or by wrangling a ride from a friend or relative. But that has changed recently. Now you can take Metro to Dulles … provided, of course, you can reach Metro. 

Which is how we came up with this crazy scheme: Today, we’ll embark on this journey of (more than) a thousand miles with a single step. We’ll walk out of the house and trek about 15 minutes to a bus stop, where we’ll board a bus that will take us to Metro, which will take us to the airport.

It seems an appropriate way to begin a trip that will rely almost solely on public transportation. But around here, it will seem pretty crazy. And that’s what makes it fun.

A Pilgrimage

A Pilgrimage

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Yesterday, a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, the largest Catholic church in the country, which was (amazingly enough) only completed this decade. Organized by my church, it was a day of prayer and discovery, a capstone of the bible study we’d been doing during Lent, with its theme of pilgrimage.

But for me, the pilgrimage took on an additional layer of meaning because it was also a return to Catholic University, which is next door to the basilica. Once upon a time, I worked at Catholic U., writing articles for their alumni magazine and website. This was in the days of in-person work, so five days a week I trundled down to northeast D.C. 

Yesterday’s return didn’t disappoint. There were the old buildings I remembered and a few recent additions. There was the grandly grim McMahon Hall, home of the College of Arts and Sciences and where the communications team had a small warren of offices on the third floor . 

I never tired of walking two floors up the broad and inviting stairway, never stopped being amazed that I was working in an office again after 17 years of freelance work. I turned my desk around so I looked out the window over the campus and beyond, into Maryland. There were treetops and steeples. I felt like a bird perched on a ledge. In fact, birds did perch on my ledge, and the stones of the thick walls were medieval in their size and roughness.

Then and now the neighborhood feels like a world apart. Yesterday’s visit reminded me that one of the things I loved about working at Catholic was its sense of place. I felt at home there. I still do.

Human Content

Human Content

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At the end of its segment on artificial intelligence last night, CBS’s “60 Minutes” included a disclaimer it never has before. “The preceding was created with 100-percent human content.”

This kicker was the perfect conclusion to a jaw-dropping report on Bard, the new chatbot released by Google. Interviews with the Google CEO and other members of the company revealed a team of humans who seem genuinely concerned about the implications of this earth-shaking new technology. But even they seem to be struggling with what they have created. 

These bots are not sentient beings, they said, although the content they produce (including a story built on Hemingway’s famous six-word novel “For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”) make you think that they can. 

These new bots are something of a black box, said Google CEO Sundar Pichai, who brought up the problem of alignment — the divergence between the models we use to create artificial intelligence and the intentions we have while creating them. They teach themselves subjects they weren’t programmed to learn. They will take our jobs and create ever-more-hard-to-detect fakes. 

As a student of the human condition (the title of the class I’m taking this semester) I’m thinking about the new technologies we’ve experienced in recent decades and how we will adapt to this one. Many knowledge workers will lose their jobs and many others will be teaming up with robots on a daily basis. How will we face this new challenge when we can’t even keep up with old ones? 

Lots of questions. Not many answers. But of this you can be sure: This post was created with 100-percent human content. 

(Above: a small printing press, vestige of a lost world.) 

Hopeful Signs

Hopeful Signs

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For years I rose early and left the house, then drove 20 minutes to the Metro station, where I boarded the train that took me to an office in the city.

A couple days ago, I made my first Metro trip of the year… of the year! And this, of course, in the eleventh of twelve months. What to say, other than once again how much the pandemic has upended our lives.

This week I rode in during evening rush hour but the train was only half full, and I felt myself strangely longing for the bustle of evening at the Vienna station. 

There were hopeful signs, though, new stations that will open next week as part of the Silver Line, and the crazy fact that even though my return train was emptier than the one heading into town … I ran into two people I knew. 

Deadlines

Deadlines

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I’ve been alarmingly sedentary the last few days, working on a paper for class and other writing assignments, proving once again that one thing I don’t have is ADHD.  

Yes, I can sit still for hours, noodling over some nuance, re-reading the paragraph I just wrote more times than is necessary, looking up an arcane fact I could live without. But the rabbit holes are tempting and I finally have time to explore them.  All of which is to say that I can sit still and write (or pretend to) for the entire day. 

And so … thank God for deadlines. I’ve lived with them since I was in grammar school and had to write book reports and term papers, worked as a magazine writer and editor where they were so much a part of the furniture that I hardly gave them a second thought. Now I have deadlines to submit analytical essays and research papers. 

Of course, I deplore deadlines. I rail against them. But without them the learning — and the sitting — would be eternal. And we can’t have that. 

Doing Nothing?

Doing Nothing?

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As I’ve probably made more than clear through the years, I seek variety, changes in routine. They keep us out of ruts; they keep us young. Changes of scene, of workout and workload. Even changes in cuisine (though I’m not as good about that one). 

Lately I’ve been juggling short-term to-dos (writing here, completing schoolwork) with longer-term writing projects. 

I enjoy having both until deadlines loom. And then … the only change in routine I crave is to do nothing all day.