Space

Ever since the recent demise of my computer, I struggle to find the perfect place to write. It used to be I could hole up in my room, put on some acoustic rock and/or mindless sitcom and let the muses do their work. Now, with no computer, I find the challenge of discovering the perfect place to write almost as difficult as the writing itself.

A computer lab is not the perfect place to write. From the incessant typing of everyone else but me to the creepy men in the corner covertly trying to look at porn, there are just too many distractions in the computer lab. Of course, there are as many computer labs as there are buildings on this campus but none of them are quite right. I do, on occasion, check out a lap-top and sit in the coffee house but again I am met with a sea of distractions. This time it is anything from the disconcerting indie rock (that I don't particularly want to listen to) to the yelling of drink orders behind my head. At least there are couches.

There is a certain comfort in having a routine, a place that is your own. (I believe Virginia Woolf writes on the same subject, no?) So maybe, it isn't writer's block that hinders my attempts at writing anything and everything, but a lack of space to call my own, my writing space.

What then, is the ideal? I wish I could tell you. Even for myself, I find that no situation is the perfect one. Someday, I would like to live in a place where I could have a room all to myself with a big comfy chair in the corner, a window seat and a desk. Walls must be blank. If they are blank, then I can make them into something. If there are things on the wall, then I'll get distracted.

Oh yes. And we mustn't forget the coffee pot.