Accompaniment: "Hear Me" by Imagine Dragons
Ah, my desk. As I've explained before, I work for the school newspaper at my university. I'm the Web Editor. I get paid to play around on the internet! Exciting, no?
I've had this job for four semesters, but this semester....something strange seems to be happening. Prior to this semester, I used to hang out in one of the student hangout spots on campus with a myriad of fellow nerds and gamers. We played Magic the Gathering between classes, browse Tumblr and play Minecraft on our laptops, or just sit around and chat. It was an all-day affair every day, starting around 9 in the morning and ending around 7pm. An endless variety show, when one person left another came in. It was almost never boring, and never ever quiet. It was my sanctuary, the place I went to feel comfortable. All of my friends were there.
This semester the newspaper staff changed a bit. Where previously I was the youngest, the newest, and the most indimidated, I am now the second-oldest editor in the office. Yeah, seriously. Most of the other staff doesn't get picked for editor until junior year, so they're constantly changing. The skills for my job are so specific and so different from everyone else in the office that I'll be holding it for a while.
These people who were once acquaintances are now practically family. We use the office as our second home! My desk computer is ten times faster than my laptop on campus internet, and the use of the inter-departmental server makes getting my homework and assignments done much easier. Now that I'm heavily into my Mass Media classes, I also need the more advanced software my desk computer provides.
Thanks to my desk being such a pleasant place to work, I almost never go back to see my gamer friends anymore.....it's sad, really. Some of them I miss, others not so much. Some days I tell myself that I'm a horrible friend for ditching like that. Some days I just tell myself that this is part of growing up, not wanting to be with the same people day in and day out. But isn't that what I'm doing by hiding out at work? I only have about nine coworkers, and I see them all day.....isn't it the same?
I don't know if I could leave my desk at this point without breaking its heart. The poor thing's gotten used to all this attention. And why not, I ask myself? Why not shower my desk with love and affection? It a wonderful desk. You know, I first fell in love with it when I started my job at the newspaper. It belonged to the Features editor then, who wound up being one of my best friends. I didn't have a desk, I just worked on my laptop or on one of the random freebie computers along the office walls. When my friend got a promotion and moved to the editor-in-chief's desk, I realized that somehow we had more desks than before. They asked if I wanted one, and I claimed the old features desk. Now it's the Web desk. It's made of dark wood, and is very sturdy and old-fashioned. The two drawers on the left-hand side are full of snacks and papers I don't want to lose, and the small center drawer holds all of my pens, trinkets, and sticky notes. The top right drawer is my coloring drawer, filled with coloring pages and crayons. Under that is my Assistant Web Editor's drawer, and below hers is the drawer claimed by the former multimedia editor, who stepped down last semester and is now assistant multimedia. On top of my beautiful desk sits my computer, angled into the left corner to provide me with a broader view of the room on my right side. To my left is a wall, coated with posters, checklists, coloring pages, and reminders. Next to my computer sit my little desk decorations: a miniature sand castle aquarium toy, a take-apart Marie Antoinette figurine (complete with removable head), a lime-green squishy duck that lights up, a bottle of lotion, and a flower vase filled with ketchup packets.
I love my desk so much. This office is so quiet and peaceful, and on the occasions when it gets loud, it's worth stopping to listen to. Unlike my old hangout spot, it's not so large that everything echoes five times, bombarding my poor ears with an overload of sound. We have walls here, not giant windows that reflect the sun painfully no matter where said sun happens to be. I'm safe here with my flourescent lighting.
Why would I ever leave?
At least that's what I tell myself.
