Albert Eintein’s Desk
Thank you to Mayumi-H for linking to this article about Why You Should have a Messy Desk.
The article opens with my favorite quote from Albert Einstein:
“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”
I’ve always been messy. My parents lost hair (sorry Dad) and sleep (sorry Mom) over the unfortunate state of my room when I was young. My college roommate and I had only a few clear spaces on the floor from which we could access our closet and our beds. And my desk at work is proof that some things never change.
It’s one of those topics that comes up in my yearly review.
“Josh, you are a great employee,” says my boss, “but I’m glad that there’s a door on your office so I don’t have to see the mess.”
It’s true. But in my defense, a big part of my job requires that I think outside the box. And if a bit of clutter helps me do that, so be it. But there are times when I have to clean things up. The article that I mentioned earlier states that when it is time to buckle down and focus, a clean desk is best. Perhaps I’ll take a few minutes and move my piles around so I can see the surface of my desk again. I mean, I don’t want to go overboard or anything, but I do want to be productive today.
What does your desk look like? Do you find it helpful to have a bit of clutter about when you are doing creative work?
Although I exhausted the Innermost Secrets that were written in my little book of the same title, I have not plumbed the depths of my secrets. And so, here are more.
The mess in my office is deliberate; I am actually a very tidy person who wants to convey an air of creativity.
Perhaps I am doing too good of a job in pretending to be messy, as that is one of the things that has worked its way into the Baker Book House Summer Reading Program cartoons. I should probably take care of some things. You know, so I can be more comfortable, being the tidy person that I am.
My hamster, Bigfoot, was not named ironically for his overall size, but for the insanely disproportionate size of his genitalia.
True story. They were huge. At-least-as-big-as-his-brain huge. The same could be metaphorically said of most guys, I suppose.
I don’t shave my head; I electrocute myself regularly.
I’m not going to pretend that it isn’t painful. It is. Excruciating. But is it worth it? You bet it is. I look handsome.
My eyebrows and facial hair are drawn on.
Because of the electrocutions, obviously.
I have a penchant for going to the zoo and telling the koalas that they aren’t real bears.
Is it mean? Probably. Am I going to stop? Not any time soon.