I don't have a desk for several reasons.
1. The desk I have my eye on at Target will require the lifting assistance of another person, and I need to coordinate this.
2. I am not the most organized. (See #1.)
3. The desk I have my eye on is approx. $100, and Mama needs to pay off her Hawaii flight currently hanging out on the credit card.
4. I enjoy sitting with terrible posture, butt cushioned, as I type on my laptop atop the futon. Why move to a chair?
5. I live in a studio apartment. Space is limited.
However, I have some things that would/will sit on my desk, should/when I ever coordinate that assistance in lifting and get the sucker upstairs to my apartment. Below is what those things are, and why they will sit there.
(If I had an iPhone, and a desk already assembled, and an Instagram account, this would be a "Here's a picture of all the things on my desk, and what each of them means" post. But it's not.)
1. An Oscar the Grouch figurine.
This is to remind myself to write garbage. Not as, like, an overarching goal, but as a means to an end. I recently wrote about this concept after a discussion of writer's block (ugh) with my friend Stephen, but in sum, the idea is to remind myself to write garbage and slog through those days when I can't think of anything "good" to write, until I finally get to a day or moment when some good ideas start slipping through the cracks.
2. A strand of beads.
This is to remind me of this quote: "I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountain top, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten -- happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another." -- Brenda Ueland
3. A photo of Robin Williams.
This is to remind me to write about mental health. When people ask me what I write about, I answer: "Faith, family, and mental health." As you can imagine, it is received with strange looks. But those are my topics. Take 'em or leave 'em. (Please take them).
As any of you who have talked to me enough or read enough of this blog can attest to, I care very much about the sound mental health of people in this world, and I very much believe that the more we talk about it, the less of a problem we will have with poor mental health. After Mr. Williams' unfortunate death last year, I put a picture of him in a frame to remind me that I have felt called to do few things, but included in them are to write and to write specifically about mental health.
4. A miniature something (maybe a Lego person?).
This is to remind me of Anne Lamott's advice to write short, or small, assignments. She keeps a one-inch picture frame on her desk to remind her of this, but since I've got Robin in a frame, I figure to keep things unique I should put something else that's small on my desk as my own reminder.
Ooh, I have a teeny weeny jam jar that I pocketed from a restaurant (was that bad?) after I used the jam, which is currently holding bobbi pins, but perhaps I could repurpose it.
Or, I could keep the pins in it, move it to the desk, and then conveniently have something to keep flyaway hairs in place, because as we know, annoying hair in the face while writing is, well, annoying.
5. A laurel leaf, or something representing laurels. Maybe a eucalyptus sprig?
I saw a sign online -- but couldn't figure out how to buy one -- that said "No resting on laurels," so if I can swing that purchase, I'm on it.
This is to remind me -- you guessed it -- not to rest on my laurels. Not that publishers are throwing book contracts at me or anything, but we all have our little victories now and then, but that ai'nt no excuse to quit truckin'.
6. Some sort of tiny, cutesy hat. (If you can't tell from items 4 - 6, I need to do some shopping).
This is to remind me to put my hat in the ring. If I have contacts for freelance gigs, even if those gigs aren't too exciting, I should aim to do them. Why? Because they keep me published. Relevant. Keeps the resume up to date. All that jazz.
And I shouldn't have my nose so high in the air that I will only wait for jobs that are "good enough" for me.
Also, because contrary to what that previous sentence might imply, I don't actually have tons and tons of work opportunities coming at me, so the only way to get jobs is to let people know I'm interested. The only way to potentially win a writing contest is to submit a piece. I may not win, but I definitely won't win if I submit nothing.
So there you have it. Who wants to help me lift a desk? Dibs on putting it together, though, because I love building stuff!