Hello to my intimate entourage of discoing diarists. I hope this email finds you pandemic well.
pan•demic well (pan dem’ic wel) adj : fine-ish, one guesses, considering the shit circumstances
A room …
In a fully operational and pandemic-free world, a freelancer like myself might be inclined to spread their workweek over a series of cafes, courtyards, low-key bars, lap-top friendly restaurants, and libraries. Now that so many people are forced to follow suit and work away from their office, it’s a shame that these options aren’t there to enjoy. I move around the apartment quite a lot to make up for it, working on couches, floors, beds, yoga mats, and blankets spread out like beach towels on our sandy colored carpet. As I reflect on what made the perfect office-away-from-home, I consider the ways to bring this enjoyment to the confines of our apartment.
Finding the right level of noise is key to productivity. Over the winter, I’d take my busy days to a local library branch. There, the ambience of people checking on holds or asking for help making copies was just enough to keep me company while I stayed focused. On days when I could spare some attention, I’d choose a coffee shop instead, preferably one with bar seating and a friend working behind the counter. The work suffered, but I’d be getting social needs met at the same time, so still fruitful, no?
Now, at home, I keep myself company on focused days with soundscapes made to mimic the Hogwarts library, or the right album of instrumental music. If I want to be a little (read: very) distracted, I might put on a podcast as a substitute for company, or randomly FaceTime everyone in my Favorites.
Season and temperature also play into the perfect spontaneous workspace. The aforementioned library is perfect for winter, because there’s a big square table situated in a west-facing bay window, where the sun acts as a natural space heater. That table is right in front of the shelves of the day’s newspapers and magazines, and gets regular visits from hushed elderly folks reading up on the news. To prevent newspaper vandalism, each day the library prints copies of the most popular puzzles from publications like the New York Times. The stack is left on the table with tiny golf pencils.
I lament the fact that I can no longer bring these crossword puzzles home with me. Instead, I take distracting game breaks with solitaire.
In the summer, I like working outside as much as I can stand it, but trying to see a laptop in the glaring sun while I’m casually dripping sweat down the backs of my knees and underarms is not conducive to work. Even so, sometimes it’s worth it if only to balance what is sometimes very boring copywriting work with the reminder that I am completely and thrillingly free to go wherever I want, whenever I want, within reason.
My more traditional workspace, complete with a copy of Jake’s passport photo and an old polaroid of my Grandma.
… With a view
I and my cat Holden have something in common, besides our love of ice cream. Both of us can be found staring out a window numerous times a day. I picked up this habit of his during quarantine, as a way to take in the world from a safe distance.
I know we’re not the only ones. Occasionally I notice Jake standing and looking down upon our street, paused and observant. Probably lots of city dwellers have been glued to their windows this year. We look through the glass and screens longingly, curiously. From a distance, the world might look like life as we have long known it. More than once I’ve caught myself slipping from context, forgetting reason, and wondering why I don’t just go out and frolic, if I want to leave so badly.
Looking out our windows gives us a tiny chance to feel outside of ourselves, and our homes, even when we’re stuck inside. Maybe, when we peak through the blinds, we hope to capture a moment of that intrigue that comes from checking out a new view from a hotel room on holiday.
A pair of creatives in Singapore sought to bring that particular experience to the homes of anyone with the internet. Their website is called WindowSwap, and it does what it can to satiate the urge to travel by providing views from all over the world. People submit their windows to a library of seemingly endless submissions. With a click of the mouse, visitors can be swooped away to a new view.
I start staring out onto a sunny, breezy patio in Stockholm. A click takes me to to Munich, where I can enjoy the ambient sound of people speaking German in the background, and the occasional meow of a cat. Like the Swedish view, this window looks out onto a balcony surrounded by trees and potted plants. These people have framed their window view from further back in the room, so that you can see the interior of their home — white pillar candles in glass jars, a sleek, futuristic floor lamp, a gemstone displayed on the windowsill.
And now I’ve found my way to Denny’s window, some stranger out there with a gorgeous view of Honolulu, rows of little houses and the ocean beyond.
I don’t know who Denny is, but for me the person hosting the image is more interesting than the view itself. It’s so intimate to be let into someone’s home, even virtually and behind a wall of anonymity (only first names are displayed). It takes me back to my CouchSurfing days, when, in the context of a trusting community, I would link up with strangers for free lodging and thus more affordable travel. In my first go at it, I and a friend had immense luck, and ended up staying with the most generous Frenchman in Québec. Christophe made us meals, leant us his bikes, and took us out on the town. I still remember his apartment, observing its clean, minimal furniture and reading the spines of his huge CD collection, all while thinking how strange and magical it was that he had welcomed our intrusion.
The home is such an intimate place. To look upon the same view that a stranger sees day after day creates a sense of closeness, even from the other side of the globe.
Looking out across Denny’s desk, I notice three pens atop an open notebook of graph paper. I want to know what they’re working on. I can’t make out the title of the book beside it, but I wish I could. In my imagination, Denny will tell me all about it when we grab lunch and Mai Tais later this evening.
Denny’s window
A song for you
Two favorite bands in one track.
Haiku 7.22.20
A moody sunset
Slathers my blue emotions
Onto a pink sky
Take care, my friends,
Katya