Thoughts while Sitting at My Desk

I am sitting in our office right now — I am at my desk and That Girl is behind me, working on a project of her own. This is a very satisfying way to be, for a wide variety of reasons.

First, of course, is the very presence here of a place called ‘my desk’, to be found in ‘our office’ in a home that also contains That Girl. The second satisfying thing is the presence of That Girl’s desk in the same office. Third, there is the fact that we are both able to be productive in this arrangement. (Your definition of ‘productive’ might not match mine — for instance I consider writing this blog to be productive.) So that’s all good.

It’s critical that we can get things done in this arrangement, as That Girl was laid off while I was out stomping around in Kansas. If you don’t count the whole “no money, no security” part of the equation, it’s working out pretty well. That Girl has been ramping up her online poetical presence, working to market herself and maybe even get to where she can support herself doing what she loves most.

I’m hoping to get to that place as well, of course. I’ve been spending the last week working on Jer’s Novel Writer. A recent operating system update made a few pieces work oddly. (Yes, that is a euphemism for ‘wrong’.) While I had the hood up I wanted to fix a couple of other issues. The software is nearly ready for release, better than ever, but that hasn’t left a lot of space in my brain for using the software for its intended purpose, which happens also to be my intended purpose.

Once I get this release out, I will be turning back to my writing (and, ideally, blogging). I have a whole bunch of things to work on. At the start of the week I thought, “I’ll get that bug fixed and then get one thing ready for submission per day for the rest of the week. Here it is Friday and there’s not much rest of the week left.

If I sigh really heavily, sometimes That Girl rolls across the office and gives me a hug.

9 thoughts on “Thoughts while Sitting at My Desk

  1. So in the decision tree of life, how many faithful readers decide to click on the link above for That Girl? And of those, how many of the female readers click on reading room first and how many male readers click on an interesting link called galleries first?
    Nice pair of poems, there.
    It’s only NSFW if you don’t work at a university.
    What? I’m doing research. Yes, on poetry. Seriously…
    Jer you’re next,…what color boa will you be wearing?
    It looks like a darn happy situation – everybody needs a good hug under sigh-stress. Does that mean the window of opportunity to visit Prague with a free place to stay is closing?
    I hope TG’s career search goes well. On that note, I need a neo-logism for doing something futile but that makes me feel better (like applying for a CEO of Bank of America position). I was thinking about combining futility with felicity, but I’m not sure I like futilicity. Any ideas?

  2. I wholeheartedly endorse both futilicity and futiendipity. They both made me laugh.

    Jesse, the day I return to these shores is coming: the tanking of the dollar, the fact that my options for professional development are here, and the stateside presence of someone as cool as That Girl are all factors. However, should you find yourself in Prague (and really you should find yourself there at some point), I can find you a place to sleep.

    I’m not wearing a boa, but you will find pics of me on the site, if you look. In a couple of them, I think I look pretty good. The b&w hides a lot of sins, apparently.

  3. Where did your beard go? Did you and your beard decide to take separate vacations?

    I would never have recognized a beardless Jerry Seeger!

  4. In featherlight is that Jerry??? Or is it Gianni?
    zounds – I like futiendipity.
    I also like the name Harlean. That’s a keeper.

  5. The pics in “Two of a Kind” are of me and Harlean, taken by Gianni. The beard is there, just reasoanly short at the time. (I’m looking pretty fuzzy now.)

    The “Making of” pics are of Gianni and Harlean, taken by me.

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