My desk is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My desk, without me, is useless. Without my desk, I am useless. I must sit at my desk true. I must focus straighter than my enemy; distraction. I must ignore his call as his aim is to consume me. I will…
My desk and I know that what counts in story is not the interminable minutes we sit, the noise of our out-loud ramblings, nor the smoke we make from grinding pencil over paper during furious thought. We know that it is the story that counts. We will create…
It is good to be back! I didn’t want to leave Arizona, but as I am sipping coffee from my Kartchner Caverns souvenir coffee mug, catching up on correspondence, I am also enjoying the dogs sleeping at my feet, the cat meowing at me from my inbox, the sound of of the pump from my giant fish tank. I’m reminiscing on the whirlwind vacation I have just returned from and reminded of how much I love sleeping in my own bed, drinking my flavor of tap water, and… sitting at my desk. It is my space–more intimate sometimes than my bed–where I find myself more exposed than anywhere else. The new discoveries over these last ten days will make my blood buzz with adrenaline for a while to come because I’ve built memories that won’t ever fade, but in the end it is always good to return home.
Leaving the nest and stretching my legs–my horizons builds a better me, allows me to exist with stronger confidence and recognize that the world beyond my usual walls is incredibly freeing. Having the freedom to explore is different than sitting at my desk and dreaming of it. Imagining. Everywhere we went in Arizona was by scenic route and I cherished every second of it. I tried to will time to stand still so that I could soak every detail up, store it away in the vault of my memory. Yet, somehow, time slipped by. At times it soared by before I could grab hold. If anyone knew how many pictures I took… Each and every pit stop along the way, all the junk food we ate *groans*, all the sights we saw, all the conversation…
Arizona was beautiful in all its dry, purple mountained–prickly vastness. I could see myself living there for a month or three at a time. (Hmm, winter in Arizona, summer in Washington or Oregon… might be a thing.) As I stated earlier, I didn’t want to leave. But as I sit here, returned to my desk I am reminded that my desk is my creative space. And, it needs me to step away from it, regularly, but I must always return, dedicated. It is where my heart resides, too. I must stay true to my craft and own my space–no matter it’s state of cleanliness. I need to get out, take in the world around me, both near and far. I must leave the boundary of my desk in order to return to it refreshed, brimming with all the words that want nothing more than to spill from my brain and fingertips, from my pencil onto my paper, from my keys onto my screen.
It feels good… no–great to be back home. To sit at my desk. It feels a little like a throne. I am the Majesty here. From here, I can scrawl worlds upon worlds of endless desire and know that real exploration and desire have created them.
Even now though, I cannot wait until my next adventure. But first, and before I get to all the correspondence and such, Big Daddy needs to run me a bath, make me a sandwich, and tend a few other more pressing duties that he’s neglected over the last several days.
Rose and Big Daddy at Biosphere II