A new school year is starting, and I always like to use this time to reflect on what’s working and what isn’t. Since kindergarten my life has followed the rhythms of an academic calendar, and I treat late August the way most people treat January—joining gyms, trying new work hacks, Fixing Everything. This year that process looks a little different, because one aspect is my work is really, really different. I have a Good Office now.
isn’t she lovely
I’d never thought much about workspaces until I saw a Good One. Specifically, a few years ago my friend Mariana showed me her home office and ruined my life. That office worked in ways that I didn’t know spaces could work; different corners were assigned to different projects or cognitive modes, ideas and evidence were attached to the walls in ways concretized Mariana’s trains of thought. There were fairy lights. It was perfect.
It felt like I was inside a genius’ brain, or more precisely that a genius’ brain had colonized a room and arranged it exactly to her convenience. I don’t know why I was surprised that a philosopher-dating-a-jazz-musician would have such a thoughtful setup, but I was briefly incapable of speech—to enter her office was to be submerged in her workflow. Thought had inscribed itself in space.
she knows Plato AND design
I didn’t know that kind of thing could happen, and I have not known peace since that day. Since I started teaching professionally I’ve always had an office (which is very good fortune), but I’ve never really decorated or organized those offices; it’s always just been a space with a computer and a kettle where I can write stuff. That was fine, and then it stopped being fine. Seeing a Good Office was like trying on expensive jeans for the first time, and realizing that it actually kind of is worth the effort. Alternately, I turned into Depressed Buffy from season 6: I had tasted paradise and was inconsolable.
how your e-mail found me in 2024
Anyhoo, I’ve moved offices this summer and took the opportunity to bring that same kind of intention to my new space. Some of that is simple fixes. I have more desk space, which can support a water feature that makes a nice sound and a lamp that I’m obsessed with. I’m also thinking less monolithically about workspace, and assembling different stations for the different kinds of work I do. If writing slides or taking meetings feels better at a traditional desk, I can do that and still have room for other modes of thinking and writing.
There is also an element of chutzpah. My work practices are weird, and I’m trying to be less apologetic about building a space around them—I read better when I’m walking or pacing, so I’M USING A TREADMILL DESK AND DON’T CARE HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT IT. I like my spaces to smell like an overpriced home goods store, so BAM! REED DIFFUSER.
I’ve been set up like this for a week or so now, and the main change I’m noticing is that I’m much less aware of work. I show up to the office, and can just do things; the space feels like it’s subtly steering me towards the different kinds of things I have to do, and the tools I need to do them are where I need them to be. I write at the standing desk, which means my bookshelves are a step away; I read on the treadmill, where I can take basic notes if needed and sit down when I’m done; I have a Stupid Little Wheelie Chair for when it’s needed. The sofa is coming next week!
We’ll see how this lasts, and everything always feels great in August/January. But I’m finally starting to understand those people who, like, put things in their offices. It’s jarring, and exciting, and I’m trying to decide what my Fall Scent will be. Make suggestions!