While taking a break from writing two documents that are due this week for my degree program, seeing all the work scattered across my desk around my laptop made me smile. Not because I’m particularly satisfied with how the million thoughts in my brain make their way to the otherwise blank word document, but because I finally took a step back to see the process and not the result just now.
It’s a messy lab experiment-meets-twenty-first-century-graduate student sitting in her home office, books and papers seasoning what otherwise would be a clean white desk. Book pages marked with cards and postage stamp booklets, a tepid mug of tea holding onto its last bits of warmth, a candle flickering on a nearby bookshelf, my rug housing crumpled up papers that I’ve launched from my authorial island. My work environment is a familiar, comforting tsunami of paper, ink, and soft lights – as it has always been, as it will always be – and today, familiarity transformed into appreciation.