-------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where I Sit September 1996 This file contains messages from 81 people who responded to a request on the Red Rock Eater News Service (RRE) for a description of the physical environment where they are using their computer. The request itself can be found at the bottom of the file. I have reformatted the messages to 74 columns and removed personal notes, greetings, and a few other details, but otherwise the messages are just as I received them. Every message that I received is included, except for a very small number of messages which were clearly not responsive to the request. The messages are all Copyright 1996 by their respective authors. You are welcome to forward it to anyone, in its entirety only, and only in electronic format, for any noncommercial purpose. You are also welcome to store it in a database or Web page, provided that you do not change anything or add any advertising or other extraneous material. To use any of the messages in any other way, you must get written permission from each author individually. For more about RRE, see http://communication.ucsd.edu/pagre/rre.html This file is about 156K bytes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 02:34:02 -0400 (EDT) From: Alan Sondheim I'm sitting naked on my bed, typing on a small notebook computer, which I use for my work; the desktop is across the room. There's a ch'in, a Chinese musical instrument, on the edge of the bed, and both fan and air conditioner going in the space. The room opens to a small loft, which is where I live in Brooklyn. I hate it here. I feel I don't belong here or anywhere, not even in on-line space, but at least I work as wizard on a couple of small MOOs, co-moderate some email lists, and have developed a fragmented sense of extended community. You mentioned hacking 13 hours, etc.; and I keep myself under control - spending around four hours a day online (I teach Internet courses, and write theory daily on various Net matters - see my sig below), and check- ing this with a "last sondheim" command at the Unix prompt every so often. I also keep very small on-line and off-line files, in spite of the 30 or so email lists I sub to. Right now, there is a Bolex movie tripod next to the bed, as well as a three-foot telescope on another. I work in video/film as well, write on issues dealing with postmodern geography, and use the scope as well as binoculars to observe the building going up across the way, a mall which might bring some needed investment into the area. There are books all around me... cassettes of Cape Breton music, some Loeb classical library works, a huge poster of Courtney Love/Hole on the wall, artwork by Margaret Curtis, Tyler Stalling, and a map of Vancouver Island. The typing on this machine (Compaq Aero) is silent; only the stirrings of Boojum, my cat, can be heard with the whoosh of fan/air-conditioner. It's dark out, but I'm dealing with a MOO in Perth where it's nice and sunny. Australia is in the midst of being on-line at the moment. I don't deserve to be a wizard, by the way, but Cybermind, one of the lists I co-moderate, is having a conference there, and we're using the MOO as part of this. Yours, Alan Sondheim http://jefferson.village.virginia.edu/~spoons/internet_txt.html images: http://www.cs.unca.edu/~davidson/pix/ "as if it needed objects" -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 16:26:44 +1000 From: d.poulson@cowan.edu.au (David Poulson) I'm looking out, over the top of my trusty LC III, on a stand of pine trees and a typical WA cool blue winter evening sky. It's a restful, regenerative sight...deserted at the moment, but I'm disappointed if at least once during a normal working day a small group of the mob of the 60 or so kangaroos that still inhabit our campus don't come "bounding" past my window. (I can't think of any word in the English language which adequately describes the movement of a big roo in a hurry: it's more like flight than any form of earth-bound locomotion). I ought to be thinking the thoughts of an exile...nostalgia for my parents, brothers, cousins and their families in the North West of England. Or for the children of my first marriage in New York State. But I don't. Home is where the heart is and Western Australia...my part of it, anyway...is so heart-stoppingly beautiful that I couldn't feel anything else but - at home. I work on a flora/fauna protected campus, cycle to work and have two daughters who can walk comfortably to school. The price of this beauty and security is remoteness. Perth is the most remote capital city in the world and I live 20 miles north of Perth. But Computer Mediated Communication overthrows the tyranny of distance and allows me to chat easily and regularly with friends I have never met. A sense of place and a sense of distance in a comfortable state of equilibrium. Nice! David Poulson Senior Librarian: Joondalup Edith Cowan University Western Australia -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 05:30:43 +0800 From: davidc@cs.uwa.edu.au (David Cake) If you walked through the door marked 'System Manager', you would be facing me, standing straight in front of my desk. But its not just my office. There is another desk straight behind mine (he could see what I typed, if his vision was sharp enough), and my supervisors office to one side (but he has to walk through ours). Luckily there is almost no tension between us. I have worked in four different long term jobs now, and I have never had an office to myself. The room is new, and the furniture is new but cheap. Its all standard university issue. All three of us have desks covered in computers, at least three on each desk. We all hate the person we are talking to walking behind to our side of the desk, unless we ask them to. This is probably because then they can see our screens, see what we are doing. I don't like this office. There is almost no natural light, but bright fluoros. No air flows (just air conditioning). There is lots of ambient noise, from at least a dozen different devices with internal fans, some old and loud. And my shoulders and neck have started to ache since I started here - I think its because there are two keyboards on a desk built for one, so both are in uncomfortable positions. I want a window. David -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 12:32:00 +0100 From: Keith Hudson I work in a vaulted cave about 20 ft long by 8 ft wide cut into a cliff behind my house. It used to be an ice-room when the house was built in 1815 which was the date of the battle of Waterloo but also the year in which Tambora erupted. About four times more powerful than Krakatoa, seven cubic kilometres of mountain-side went into the air and circulated for years. 1815 was called the Year Without a Summer -- with an average of two hours of sunshine a day. Millions of people died that year because of failed crops. Also, the semi-darkness meant that my house was built with scarcely a right-angle in the place. The ice that used to fill this cave came from a fresh-water lake near Boston, Mass., and was very clear and very expensive, but this ceased suddenly in 1856 when an ice-factory was built in Walcot Street, about half-a mile from here down a steep hill. Horse-and-carts carrying the ice used to hook themselves onto a continuous iron chain in the centre of the road, helped by the empty horse-and-carts hooked onto the chain going downwards. Despite its origin, this ice room has an equable temperature all through the year and I sit here in shirt sleeves whatever the season and take no notice either of the weather or of the radioactive radon gas which seeps out of the rock in these parts. As I don't intend to father any more children, this doesn't worry me. Nor does hacking away at this keyboard bother me either -- but more like 15 hours on a good day, rather than the 13 mentioned by Phil. I arrive here at about 6.30am armed with a large pot of tea and a fresh pipeful of tobacco to start the day, read my mailbox, sit around, cogitate, and then usually write an e-mail or two. Send them off and then take my dog Gemma for her walk and read my morning papers. Back at about 10am, I eat my morning porridge and then get down to some heavy scanning of articles, extracts of books, etc, for a Vannevar Bush-type database in which I am involved and which one day, hopefully, will appear on the WWW. In the afternoon I look at my mailbox again, maybe write a few replies, cogitate again and so on. Sometimes I have to work if my business (elsewhere on the premises) is overstretched, so I step out of my ice-room and into my studio which is a glass-topped conservatory connecting the house to the cave. The curious thing is that when I look at the white surface of the drawing board after spending a few hours in front of the monitor there is an oval surround of crazy dancing lines in my field of vision but if I look through the middle of it when working it doesn't bother me and after half-an-hour or so it disappears. Whether this is due to the X-rays from the monitor or the alpha particles from the rock around me, I've no idea. In the evening I usually spend more time here at the keyboard, sometimes till 10pm. I hardly watch TV now and I rarely use the Web, except about once a week to read journal articles. My better-half is very understanding. If I were younger, or had a family, I couldn't possibly get away with it with this perfect mode of life. On a summer's day, my house front door is always open and, sitting here at the back of the cave, I can see straight through the studio, the hallway and into the front garden where I can see tortoiseshell butterflies on the buddleas. What more could anyone wish for? Perhaps a saner and more sustainable world for my grandchildren. But I doubt that that will happen, unfortunately. We are truly in a mess and I can only hope that the many who are writing on the Net will find some answers before the politicians and our existing political systems make the world a far greater tragedy than it already is. ________________________________________________________________________ Keith Hudson, 6 Upper Camden Place, Bath BA1 5HX, England Tel:01225 312622/444881; Fax:01225 447727; E-mail:ac972@dial.pipex.com ________________________________________________________________________ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 06:43:14 -0500 (CDT) From: Steve Gunter My study contains blue (light) walls with bookshelves to the right and in the middle of the room and L-shape pair of desks. One-to the right of my computer keyboard is a traditional desk which I purchased in 1975 as I began teaching (it was all chalk, all talk, all paper then) and the new computer desk with my Compaq rigged for deep Net diving. To the left I have (on blue paper) a hand-sketched copy of Picasso's GUERNICA. Immediately before me and on the wall above the computer is a magnificent framed poster portrait of Einstein. My guitar is on the floor and papers are scattered everywhere (mainly with notations for HTML authoring and web page design). OK? cya! ::::P:e:a:c:e::in:::e:v:e:r:y::S:t:e:p::thich:nhat:hanh: ======================================================== Steve Gunter http://comp.uark.edu/~sgunter sgunter@comp.uark.edu BHS|NWACC R.257 ======================================================== ::::K:e:e:p::On::Thinking:::F:r:e:e:!:::: :::: :::: :::: -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 07:48:55 -0400 From: FitchDonS@aol.com Where I Sit is in the middle of Chaos, physical and mental. The computer (Mac Centris 650) is in the living-room of a '50s suburban house in Southern California, on a desk piled high with papers and documents (the lower ones about a year old). This "work" ("play" might be a better word) area, in turn, is surrounded by boxes and stacks (mostly about four feet high) of Stuph that would (mostly) be useful if I could find it when it's needed. Usually, being Retired, I can take a distinctly casual approach to computer activity, but currently things are getting hectic because I'm helping co-ordinate, and acting as on-site agent for, the Fanzine Lounge at the upcoming (Labor Day weekend) World Science Fiction Convention in Anaheim. (Think of it as a five-night Party with maybe a couple of thousand people dropping in from time to time, with about 50, most of whom I know, being there at any given moment.) Unlike Phil and most other Internet participants, my activities in that medium don't involve a substantial majority of faceless electronic _personae_ -- mostly, I stick to three or four forums where the majority of the hundred or so participants are people with whom I've been fairly well- acquainted (in person, or though the exchange of on-paper amateur publications, or correspondence) for an average of somewhere around 15 or 20 years. A few of /u/s/ them are even less tactful on-line than in-person, but on the whole I seem to have figured out long ago, and in a different forum, what assumptions it's usually safe to make when people are operating from behind the shield of a typewriter, and the on-line medium seems to be, at worst, a slightly-imperfect lens, magnifying and distorting their virtues and imperfections only a trifle. Don Fitch +++++++++ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 05:21:47 -0500 From: iq@usinternet.com (John Farrell) I lease office space in a beautiful old building in downtown Minneapolis. I can see Nicollet Mall from my second-story office window. Pictures of my family are scattered throughout my office. My little girl's artwork covers part of two walls. My computer sits on the skinny part of the "L" on my desk. There are two large "flip-chart" papers covered with the outline of a course (in black, blue, green and red marker) I and a colleague are teaching later this week. My desk is covered with papers and my "project box" is stuffed full of work to be done for various clients. I have four unopened "TRY AMERICA ONLINE FREE!" diskette packages sitting on my little computer speakers. I think I'll throw them away. There, that feels better. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 15:40:02 +0200 From: Kirk McElhearn My computer sits atop a good-sized desk, given to me by a client that makes office funrinture. Since I got this desk, I can lay things out and still have room to type. I work as a translator; so next to me are piles of dictionaries. On the right side of the desk, which faces a wall, is a plant. I don't know what it is called, but it thrives. Sunlight comes in from a window a few meters away on the right, so it helps us both grow. On the wall in fromt of me are pictures made by my 5 year old son. They give me somthing to reflect on when I am at a loss for words. I have a pair of speakers hooked into my CDRom drive; it's funny how it is used more for listening to music than for lloking at multimedia. A few glasses with pencils in them (yes, I am a born-again luddite!); a few piles of floppy disks; a bowl with feet underneath, from the Metropolitan Museum, for putting M&Ms in. A cup of Darjeeling to the left of me, and, of coures, pictures of my wife and son over to the left next to the wall. This space seems to take on things like a cubicle I once worked in (I work at home, now). Pictures, post-cards, they all take control of a small spcae, and try and make the area more livable. Kirk McElhearn Translations from French to English, English to French Traductions francais-anglais, anglais-francais kirk@lenet.fr http://www.nirvanet.fr/kirk/kirk.html 91 rue de la Mesangerie 37540 St Cyr sur Loire France -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 10:21:44 EDT From: "David M. Chess" I sit in an office, with my back to the door (the screen is reflective enough that I can tell if someone moves around behind me, but I can't see who it is without turning around). My wrists are on a rather dirty but familiar red OS/2 wrist-rest, my fingers on a PS/2 keyboard (also starting to get dirty, now that I actually look at it). Beyond the tube are two big slanted-inward-at-the-top windows, overlooking a parking lot, a Topps Appliance City, wooded hills across the highway beyond that. Coming back inside, most of the horizontal surfaces in the office are covered with piles of paper, drifts of books, clumps of diskettes, Rubik's Cube(tm)s. Whiteboard on one wall, shelves opposite it, little two-drawer file cabinets holding up the above horizontal surfaces. Three other computer displays, all off at the moment, sitting under the shelves. My chair, my laptop, my sandals. The rug's getting dirty, because there's usually too much mess in here for the cleaning people to bother trying to get their vacuum-cleaner in. I should really do something about that... DC -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 16:49:37 +0200 From: William Hoffman My door is usually open and if someone should peek in as they usually do, they would find me sitting behind a grey desk staring deeply into my MultiSync monitor's glow as if it were my fiance's eyes. My monitor has a few tattoo's to show its individuality...a cut out dilbert comic that leave's my twin wringing his hands and me rolling, two buttons advocating poetry which keeps me human and libraries which keep me, and of course an ever present, always changing yellow sticky. If my comfortable blue chair was empty and they wanted to know what it is I do a quick glance at my six binder titles would lead them in the right direction; System/OCR, Network/Internet, Master Planner, Exton Profile, Electronic Services, EDI. If they were unduly curious they might root through my incoming and pending trays and the papers on my desk and find a couple of trade magazines; a notepad with meeting notes; various advertisements and catalogs; papers of various sizes with URL's to be added to our intranet; notes on our phone system; correspondence with library system vendors, customers and colleagues about interfaces, DataSwets, quotation loads, upgrades, purchases etc... A picture of my soon-to-be wife and I sits next to my monitor, so it may be her eyes that I stare deeply into rather than my monitor's glow. My mouse rests upon Dilbert who states "Technology - no place for wimps". Speakers occassionaly announce new mail with the classic Homer "doh". A post card of a packed Camden Yards (is it ever any other way) hangs on my wall. A Phantom of the Opera coffee mug will be full of Dutch Coffee if I'm feeling brave. Each day a battle is fought in my office: Glare on monitor -vs- radiant sunlight, glare usually wins and I shut my blinds. Some titles you might find on my bookshelf would be Using HTML, Webster's II, The UnDutchables, Holland, Novell System Administrator, Familiar Quotations, Microsoft Excel VB, Shelley, Extra! for Windows User Guide. I probably get the most Good Morning's and Have a Good One's in the office because I am to the right as soon as you walk in our front door. I often pop up with the message "Will you allow William Hoffman to access your screen?" on needy colleagues' monitors. >From where I sit this is what I see, but what would others view of me? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- William Hoffman whoffman@swets.nl Swets & Zeitlinger Inc. www.swets.nl Suite A 440 Creamery Way fax: 610 524 5366 Exton, Pennsylvania 19341 tel: 610 524 5355 ext 348 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To furnish the means of acquiring knowledge is...the greatest benefit that can be conferred upon mankind. It prolongs life itself and enlarges the sphere of existence. John Quincy Adams ______________________________________________________________________________ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 11:06:39 EDT From: spot@hopeless.mess.cs.cmu.edu small office shared with two others, but nobody else is there, five computers, hazy morning light through the window, cluttered desks and bookshelves, telephone, closed door to shared lab with video tower, seven machines, and five more adjoining offices. silent but for the fans, disks, and my typing. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 11:07:22 -0400 From: "Mario O. Bourgoin" I am sitting in my home office, one of two top rooms in the house. I am at my home desk, as opposed to my office desk which is smaller and behind me. This is a large room, 14x14, decorated by my wife's paintings and by the whimsy of previous occupants. It has a large north-facing window, but not enough sun come through (in my opinion) because of a large oak tree. I have books, a couch, a treadmill, and behind a screen, some things I've been meaning to give to S.A. for three months. My home computer is a Mac IIci running 7.5, with many attachments, including a 14" color screen. I am logged in to Media-Lab through a 14.4 modem and a terminal emulator, as they say they can't give me a PPP connection. My office computer is a Compaq Deskpro 5133 running Windows 95, and also with many attachments, including a 17" color screen. I am logged in to work (I work from home now) through a 28.8 modem and a PPP connection to a Shiva box. While I'm writing this, I'm waiting for Lotus Notes to get to the next message. It's been 5 minutes since I asked, so I'm whiling time away by answering this. For some reason systems has not been able to explain in 4 months of my asking, my computer's EMail response is wicked slow about 1/3 of the time, such as now. Ah! The next message. Off to work! --Mario -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 11:06:56 -0400 From: Madis Pihlak I am writing this on a beautiful 20" Trinitron monitor in a very old dirty building. The message before this was my MIS guy sending a memo to the chiar's office about roaches. In five weeks we move into a building with 96 computers for 80 undergraduate landscape architecture students. They will have powermacs and SGI's. But back to my desk, it is a mess. I have light from two directions and i get a view of the undergrauate library. Madis Pihlak Associate Professor and Coordinator Landscape Architecture University of Maryland -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: 12 Aug 96 9:38:53 From: John L Smart True story! A friend of mine was disillusioning the CIO of his company by explaining all of the ways he could get superuser access to their systems in one minute or less. Wringing his hands nervously, the CIO asked "This must have taken you years to know this stuff, where did you learn this?" and my friend bluntly answered : Hacking is something that you do in your underwear in your mother's basement after drinking too much jug wine. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 08:22:46 -0700 (PDT) From: Gary Gach My computer is against a far wall in my kitchen. My keyboard is on a board atop a sewing machine base. The monitor is to the right, atop some shelving: I've had to raise it a half foot recently, drastic pain causing me to re-examine my ergonomics. I use the kind of ergonomic chair whereupon one kneels. As a freelance writer (magazines & books) I work out of my home: no one throws a snitfit if I change the radio station, and I stop to look at the bird outside the window, take a walk around the block, cook lunch whilst I work, etc. Computer plays three roles in my work: [1] filing cabinet (folders and files ... and, soon, OpenDoc hyperlinks), whereby I invariably enter (F) for (F)ind, enter the name of the document, and, Presto!, it appears; [2] wordprocessing station, for revisioning/cutting&pasting; and [3] telecommunications, whence I get leads, do research, submit work for critique, dialogue with publisher/ editor, etc. Usually, I work every day, whether a little bit or 12-14 hours; lately, mostly the latter. Have bought Wiley's book on RSI and am seeing myself in it (having been using keyboards almost all my life). The sound of the keys a familiar tapdance, like rain on the window. If my computer could talk, what would it say about me? gary gach |_|_|_|_| the pocket guide to the internet ggg@well.com |_| |_| isbn 0-671-56850-7 * $5.99US (forthcoming, january: |_|_ _|_| http://www.simonsays.com/titles writers.net) | | | | | 0671568507/index.html -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 11:48 EDT From: Paul_Green@vos.stratus.com My daytime environment is an 8 ft by 12 ft office, one floor off the ground, at Stratus Computer, in Marlboro, Massachusetts. By politicking with our facilities department, I've managed to get and keep a window office that faces east. As I write this, I can glance up from my terminal, look over the blacktop driveways and parking lot, and see a well-maintained green lawn with ornamental maple and pine trees. Beyond our property, and looking left to the north, I can see the beginning of heavily-wooded, undeveloped land. The woods is mostly mature oak and maple trees, but I can see a few ash trees that are slowly dying of a blight. Directly ahead, to the east, I can see four or five undulating, wooded, low ridges. In mid-September, the maple trees will start to turn yellow and orange; later the oak trees will turn a light brown. I've had this few for several years, and the fall season is my favorite time of year. I should really close my vertical blinds to shield my video screens from the glare, but I don't want to give up the view. On the window ledge sit pictures of my family, places I've been, mugs from customer visits, a stuffed lion from solving a problem for a customer, and other reminders of my life here at Stratus. My desk is fairly neat at the moment; for me, at least. I can see most of my white blotter. My projects are arranged in piles. Today's papers are scattered over the blotter, waiting to be acted upon. A long row of manilla folders, each containing some old, mostly-forgotten project, extends from left to right across the front edge of the desk. Last week's crisis project is piled deep, in a single pile, on top of these papers. The crisis project from the week earlier blocks my telephone. (I'm a problem solver and crisis manager; so the crisis label is normal...) Bookcases line the wall with unread journals and reference manuals. The bottom half of my door is covered with charts showing the company's financial results over its lifetime. A matrix of Dilbert(TM) cartoons fills the top half. My floor and round conference table are covered with papers from old projects, unread newspapers and unread technical magazines. The cubicle next door, annexed in a futile attempt to create order out of chaos, contains even more papers. Under my desk sits my box of soda cans waiting to be recycled, and a box of blank-on-one-side, nonconfidential-on-the- other white paper that will be given to the local school when it is full. To my right is a white board that hasn't been fully erased in 3 years, a calendar with railroad scenes, a clock so my visitors know what time it is. Pinned to this wall are my 1996 resolutions (Be early to meetings, Focus my efforts on a limited set of activities, Be optimistic, Communicate what I do to other people, Share my concerns, Push support activities back onto customer service), org charts, and General Colin Powell's rules of life. (I think they are kind of banal, but it still helps to see them now and then). My sturdy and faithful Dell 33Mhz 486DX, Windows 95, PC sits next to my terminal on the secretarial wing of my desk. It is my window onto the corporate intranet and worldwide Internet. It isn't fancy, but it gets the job done. Not very fancy, but as a consultant, this arrangement provides the tools of communication and storage I need to get my work done. PG -- Paul Green | Mail: Paul_Green@stratus.com Senior Technical Consultant | Voice: +1 508-460-2557 FAX: +1 508-460-0397 Stratus Computer, Inc. | Video: PictureTel/AT&T by request. Marlboro, MA 01752 | Disclaimer: I speak for myself, not Stratus. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 09:05:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Scoop What a neat idea! I sit on the second floor of an apartment in Petaluma, California (a very charming town, by the way), facing north. I'm the afternoon drive-time news anchor for a local radio station, so most of my hacking is done in the morning over coffee (Mocha Java/Espresso blend) and muffins (poppyseed or banana) or late at night. My box is a patchwork 386 that my wife and I inherited and I've made improvements on over the years. It sits on a sparse, two-drawer writing desk; the monitor is propped up on one volume of Webster's Unabridged Dictionary and two volumes of the Britannica Edition of Funk & Wagnall's Standard Dictionary. To the right of that is a plastic milkcrate containing various tech manuals a la Ed Krol and Brendan Kehoe, DOS and UNIX texts and _The New Hacker's Dictionary_ (for reading during slow downloads). Atop the crate is a small case of 5.25" disks and a coffeecup full of pens. Proceeding to the right, we see a computer case with a dot-matrix printer on top of it, with 3 cases of 3.5" disks squeezed into the space between the printer and the milk crate. The whole assemblage is anchored by a two-drawer filing cabinet to the left of the desk, which is piled high with magazines and correspondence (I really have to clean that up, since I have no idea what's in there). Above the desk is a Rand McNally Cosmopolitan Series World Map (Mercator). The room stays pretty cool in the morning, but it mutates into some form of organic blast furnace as the day progresses (no air conditioning!!). I try to get my mail, browse a dozen or so Usenet groups, write, check various press-related and purely recreational websites and so forth before about 11 o'clock. The room's window faces east, so by the time the heat of the day is upon us the sun is high enough so that the light isn't quite so lethal. - Neal Ross, KSRO Internet Reporter --------> scoop@sonic.net - - Voice: (707) 543-0100 ext 333 Fax: (707) 542-1077 - - Snail: KSRO 1350 1410 Neotomas Ave. Santa Rosa, CA 95405 - Key fingerprint = 7E 61 F2 CE 73 E5 D0 1C 4F D1 26 E0 EC C7 76 A0 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: 12 Aug 96 9:09:29 From: Dean Cochrane/IS/HeadOffice/Weldwood I'm one of those lucky cubicle-dwellers, one of the tortured many whose workplace environment would make a battery hen feel right at home. The walls of this cell are a kind of faded, speckled green washed with yellow, like urine-stained jade, and the countertop (I wouldn't presume to call it a 'desk') is a bland and inoffensive shade of tan. You can hardly see the keyboard against it. The machine that I am typing this on is a sort of Frankenstein's monster: no two parts are from the same machine. Here in tech support, we get what's left over. The box sits beside me, without its cover (which sits on top of the tacky roll-front thing hung on the wall of the cubicle, along with some software boxes and possibly defective printer cables) with cables hanging out o f it: I leave it open because I'm always testing cards, or attaching a HDD to try and recover data for some idiotic user who has somehow never heard the word "backup" in spite of the edicts and papal bulls that are regularly circulated from On High. The inside of the cubicle is papered with phone numbers, Dilbert cartoons, Microsoft religious tracts, tech notes, and those velcro circles that 10base2 tees come packed in. I use old Microsoft TechNet and Lotus CD/Prompt CD-ROMs for coasters. There are stacks of diskettes teetering dangerously on my right. I really have to sort them out one day, but for now I just shuffle through the entire stack until I find one. There's a plastic Godzilla on top of the monitor, and a cheap plastic Daffy Duck mug stuffed with screwdrivers and jumpers lurks amongst scratch pads, pencils, and stacks of printouts. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 09:46:58 -0700 (PDT) From: Bruce Jones Brazil w/o the political intensity (the movie, not the country). Wire everywhere (I sit in a wiring closet (albeit a 250 sq. ft. closet) with a glass-block window that faces a passageway ... neon light competes with the glare from two to three monitors, wound 'round the hum from half-a-dozen cooling fans in various CPUs, hubs and bridges. I sit with my back to the door - makes it easier to complete what I'm in the middle of when students and other users come by for a chat or some help. To make things livable, a comfortable chair and a small laserprinter. Coffee pot on a table in the corner, sitting between the machine I use for backups over the net and my Condensed OED (oh, and the coffee bean grinder and amongst the parts of one or two disembowled machines in various states of dis/repair). All in all, an inhabitable if busy space, much like that occupied by system admins anyplace where one person does 90% of what needs to be done, at least at the technical level. Bruce Jones Department of Communication bjones@ucsd.edu University of California, San Diego (619) 534-0417/4410 9500 Gilman Drive FAX 619/534-7315 La Jolla, CA 92093-0503 =-= http://communication.ucsd.edu/bjones/index.html -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 13:48:16 -0400 From: MacEvoy@aol.com I'm working at a Gateway Pentium 133 running Windows 95 with a 17" Vivitron monitor, generic PC keyboard and low-end multimedia speakers. The I/O stuff sits on a $40 8 foot folding table and I sit on a $300 ergonomic plum office chair. The table stands against a blank wall in an 1800 square foot unpartitioned office on the second floor of a building in SF's multimedia gulch, just across the street from the 2nd & Bryant clock tower. We get north light from a wall of windows looking out on the 101 Freeway, always crawling. Four other guys work in the office on equipment and tables and chairs more or less like mine, no cubicles, no plants; we also have a PowerPC (my machine of choice!) for web surfing and a Pentium 200 box with a 4-bit monitor for our web server (these are also on or under my table). The sounds are keyboards typing, phone calls, random conversations, and music CDs off the computers (we rotate DJ responsibilities). The only other furniture in the office is a compact refrigerator in the kitchen nook, a coffeemaker, microwave, toaster oven, four beanbag chairs and a few milkcrate bookshelves. Yes, we are a startup. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 13:58:55 -0400 From: CurtisL611@aol.com Here is a sidebar to a story I wrote for Talkback! ezine about pseudonymity, anonymnity, and virtual personae on the Net. (See http://talkback.lehman.cuny.edu/tb) The sidebar describes a scene in a loft I used to live in on Horatio St. in Manhattan, right by the Westside Highway. Here's a picture to go with it, done by my wife Jane Sherry. (You can see more of her fine book art work at her gallery's website www.granarybooks.com, the New York Public Library, Yale University collection or the Getty Museum.) "Late one crisp spring night, a multi-dimensional apparition emerged from my computer terminal, blurring the boundaries between the Real World and the Virtual Planes of existence. I looked out the window and the West Side Highway had been replaced by towering stands of birch, white pine, hemlock, fir and cedar. The aroma of oxidized gasoline and raw meat modulated into the heady perfume of the black locust. I recognized the mysterious shape-shifter called Coyote. Coyote is known to anthropologists and students of comparative mythology as an American Indian version of the ancient archetype of the Trickster. Like the cypherpunk virtuosi of remailers and steganography, Coyote has many identities, but the key to Coyote's character can be divined from prolonged meditation on Tarot Trump #1, The Magician. According to Robert Wang's Qabalistic Tarot, the Magician is the First Key of Enlightenment, and represents the Twelfth Path of Wisdom, "the place whence issues the vision of those seeing in apparitions (That is the prophesies by seers in a vision.)" Coyote, Hermes, Thoth, and Mercury are one and the same deity, always associated with the magical power of words . Coyote is the messenger of the gods and goddesses, and it is through the power of words that Coyote works his magical will in the world. Coyote is the patron deity of cypherpunks and all those in cyberspace who use words to create, through the power of digital incantation, entirely new "virtual" personae on the Net. As Coyote and his beloved mountains billowed like smoke from my monitor, I felt for one lucid, laughing moment that I could see myself clearly for the very first time--CL" Jane and I now live in Mt. Tremper NY, in a three hundred year old farmhouse, surrounded by Coyote's favorite trees, as above. Hope you enjoy this. Curtis Lang -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 11:16:44 -0700 From: John Ahlstrom I sit in one of the best designed office buildings I have eaver sat in. WHen it has the designed-for number of people in it, it has many small conference rooms that the people can use for private conversations. When it has more than the designed-for complement, the small conference rooms get turned into multi-person offices. The building is on the banks (actually the flood plane) of the Guadalupe River in north San Jose CA. In the winter we can look out the second floor windows over the levee and see the water rising. The building has many windows and next to the windows are aisles to communicate with the cubes that are the major work sites. The windows offer very good views of the river, the costal range mountains and the range at the eastern edge of Silicon Valley. I sit in one of the small conference rooms that has become a multi-person office. At the time we were moving into this building we were contractors so they had on compunction about putting two of us in a small room instead of 1 in each of the (too scarce) cubicles. A week after we moved we became employees and people began complaining that we "got to" share an office. The previous week we "had to" share it. And so it goes. The office has a door and walls that go all the way to the ceiling. Next to the door is a door height, 1/2 (approx) door width window with a blind that can provide a modicum of privacy. The door is essential; my room mate and I get quite loud in design meetings. I share the office with another software engineer/architect. There are three desks, the third for the third computer, a whiteboard, 3 book cases, a poster of Big Bend National Park, 2 3-tube florescent lights in the ceiling, two air in/outlets, a smoke detector, a fire alarm and a battery-powered clock. Two wastebaskets (one for white, paper only for recycling). Two PCs and a Sparc. Two telephones. In addition to this company issue equipment there is a battery-powered radio, a large rubber-maid container for pretzels, my back chair and too numerous piles of stuff that we will never get around to look at before we throw them out. Through the door and its window companion I have a view of the levees and the river and the trees beyond. Not the best view in the company but a good one. Twenty years ago I worked with Whit Diffie at BNR in Palo Alto, he estimated that he had 2 gigabytes of paper-resident info in his office. I am about to get an additional 2 gig for my computer. Will that hold all my paper-resident info? Will I ever get someone to scan it in? The pretzels are not so much for our nourishment as to entice others into our space. Software development is a social process; if I had my way we would have a large development lab with all the serious computers in it and tiny little cubes where we could go for some quiet thinking. Till then we try to entice people to our space. John Ahlstrom jahlstrom@cisco.com 408-526-6025 Using Java to Decrease Entropy Any neural system sufficiently complex to generate the axioms of arithmetic is too complex to be understood by itself. Kaekel's Conjecture -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 14:22:15 -0400 (EDT) From: Sarah W Salter Although a portable, my computer and I are almost always at my desk in my bedroom - a cool, darkish basement room, near the main line of the Toronto subway. I can never tell if it is thundering outside, or just another train going by - the gentle rumble happens every few minutes day and most of the night. My cat is sleeping on the desktop, by the computer on top of papers that need urgently to be attended to - printouts and source notes for articles rushing toward deadline, urgent mail, phone messages & my to-do lists. It is great having them under the cat -- I hate to disturb her. Just about every thing in sight is "industrial quality" - grey utilitarian table-desk, carpet, plastic milk-crate toolboxes (3), plastic laundry basket and a couple of garbage bags of clothes. My eye delights in my graceful small wooden desklamp, a nude drawing (of me) on the wall, and stacks and stacks of books - for work, general information and belles-lettres. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sarah W. Salter Salter@world.std.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 96 11:17:00 PDT From: Shelly Julien The phones always ring -- after all, I'm in PR. Just try composing an intelligent and grammatically correct email missive when you're interrupted three times by reporters who've waited until their deadline is 30 minutes away to do their interviews...but I've jumped ahead of myself. Actually, my workspace is rather nice -- my calendar from the British Virgin Islands is at my right, so I can look at sailboats and blue water whenever I need to. And of course my adorable son's face is all over -- in a baseball uniform, in a tux, as a baby. That keeps me grounded and helps me remember what's important. On top of my computer is a prayer candle, "Our Lady @ www.com" which says, in part, "...I turn to you to help me navigate the tangled mess that is my computer. Banish systems crashes and power surges from my consciousness, and protect me from carpal tunnel syndrome..." (Since I spend most of my day at the keyboard, mostly with email, that last protection is the important one.) There are lots of toys around here, most from various trade shows, including my dear Mrs. Potato Head. In fact there is a lot of flotsam and jetsam from various software companies, all of whom want to turn me into their walking billboard, residue from 16 years in the industry that I can't quite let go. And piles of books and papers, four sections of the WSJ spread out on my conference table right now, so many things to read and so little time! I have windows that look to the south, so I can watch for the storms that come in and make sailing rough (as if I ever have the time to slip out anymore!). The huge whiteboard on the far wall has small saxophone drawn on it, courtesy of my son's last trip to the office with mom. I'm enough of a nerd to have my WWW5 poster up on the wall -- and the fact that it's kind of hidden behind the door means either that I'm a little ambivalent or, more likely, that it was the last open space on the walls. The computer itself? Well, it's just a computer. Lots of memory, a laptop/docking station setup, Windows 95 and Internet access from my desktop. I put it on a narrow table so I couldn't indulge my natural tendency to stack up papers all around it. An island of organization in a room of lively chaos. Regards, Shelly Julien shellyj@wagged.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 13:37:57 CST6CDT From: "PAUL DOTY" Most of the computing I do is from my office. My office is my portion of a library that dates back to the early sixties, is cinder block walls painted white. My computer sits on a nondescript desk that covered with paper, a multch of system wide memos, so that the terminal looks something like a mushroom up from the forest floor. There are two large red filing cabinents covered with children's art, newspaepr clippings, computer lab use rules written in haikus (by a retired colleague). There is nice wood bookshelf filled with computer manuels, database facts in binders, and those books of mine that have found their way to my office (titles such as William Carlos William's Paterson, Jack Kerouac's On the Road.) There is also an unplugged old purple-pink radio that is evocative of public school. Paul Doty Jim Dan Hill Library University of Wisconsin, Superior pdoty@staff.uwsuper.edu -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 12:22:18 -0700 From: "Olivia C. Williamson" I'm sitting at a computer help desk - I spend 2 hours a day here, waiting for people to come in and ask questions about their computer problems. This desk is familiar to me, but it's not really "my own" - I have to pick up my belongings at the end of my shift. As a result, there is always some random detritus left around by the other people who staff the desk - the pens change daily, post-its in different handwritings are stuck around, and I'm often not sure if I'm supposed to follow up on a note that reads "call professor X about e-mail", or if that was a personal note someone made to remind themself. The computer is also oddly de-personalized. Whenever I start up e-mail, someone else's name is already entered in the login box. The background keeps changing - right now it's those blue kittens from System 7.5. I'd change it, but I know it'll be back to those kittens tomorrow. On my right is a window, overlooking the parking lot. It's lunchtime, so I can watch people coming and going - often very interesting, as I see who is spending time with whom, and how long someone else spent at lunch. Next to the parking lot is a field/swampy area, and some days I can see various large birds (eagles, etc) soaring over the field looking for their lunch, as well. - Olivia Williamson olivia@leland.stanford.edu -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 12:17:31 -0700 (PDT) From: Stanton McCandlish Myself: I am tall, thin, darkhaired, and edgy, usually with most of the world tuned out when I am online, though I come and go from net-mode to offline mode rapidly, as the phone rings often. Pics, bio, etc., at http://www.eff.org/~mech My environment: A large but el cheapo L-shaped desk. In the center (the corner or elbow of the desk) is a Powermac, on top of which sits a small color monitor. On the desk to the left of these is a huge (21" I think) greyscale monitor, often with up to 6 telnet windows open. Mosaic is usually open on the color monitor (Netscape crashes my machine, so I stick with the slower but slightly more stable Mosaic). All around me are foothills of paper (various faxes and printouts and drafts of documents and so forth), leading up a mountain of diet coke cans precariously stacked to the right of the Mac. Other items in evidence some or all of the time, depending on the drifting of the papers, are a CD player, diskettes, a surge protector/powerstrip, notebooks, yellow sticky-notes all over the place, and various office supply items that can never be found when I want them, but are always in the way when they aren't needed. To my right on the wall is a phone that rings to often, next to which is a calendar that is often on the wrong month. In front of me on the wall is a corkboard with almost nothing on it, since I've yet to find the time to put anything of not there. Both monitors have papers and things on top of them, probably urgent 2 months ago. To my left across the room is a messy bookshelf, mostly Wired mag, computer books, and some general reference works. Most of my books are kept at home, just work-related stuff here. Next to that on the wall are various beer-related posters (good beer, dammit!), and a "Sink Clipper!" poster from RSA. My door is always open, and on it are taped various letters I have written to legislators and the President. On the floor is a splilled box of diskettes that's been that way for ages, more mounds of paper, old postal mail, and a computer box. Behind me the windows have the blinds drawn, though I'm told the view is beautiful. The lights are off. I hate screen glare. ______________ |\ _____ | | \ | ____|| | | | | |_ |_| | | | | |_|________________| -- Stanton McCandlish
mech@eff.org

Electronic Frontier Foundation

Online Activist -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 12:00:17 -0700 (PDT) From: Sara Miles I work in a big, sunlit room the color of roses. On the walls are pressed flowers my great-great-grandfather, a Transcendentalist, picked a hundred years ago and labelled in his spidery hand: "Convovolus Sepium, Hedge Bindweed, June 19, '86." On my desk are piles of paper from current projects: Queer as Fuck, the anthology I'm editing on gay and lesbian sexual cultures for NYU Press; a piece I'm writing for HotWired on interactive gaming; an essay on electronic cash, and a manuscript about the prophetic tradition in law. There's an old White House press pass on a metal chain that my daughter's been playing with, a story I clipped from the business section of the New York Times, a gorgeous photo of my girlfriend laughing, six pens, two pencils, a pair of scissors, and a PowerBook165 with the slowest modem in the world. My windows look out on the Cesar Chavez Elementary School, a bright blue building covered in murals; there's a sign in Spanish taped to the front door directing ! ! parents to the Wednesday night computer class. I can see the drug dealer from down the block walking his Rottweiler, Mrs. Mayzyk sweeping her stairs, and the guys on the corner fixing their car. It's not that I don't care about the future, but the tangle of many pasts and the gravity and beauty of the undeniable present tend to focus my attention at this desk. Sara Miles 824 Shotwell San Francisco CA 94110 smiles@igc.apc.org -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 16:13:32 -0400 From: the Littlest Orc i'm in our enormous living room, full of musical instruments and linux boxes; i'm sitting on a big old green couch using the vt320 on the coffee table. a stripy cat is washing herself in an armchair. there's a cd playing, a bluegrass cover of a jimi hendrix tune. it's early afternoon; there's wind and sunlight coming in through an open window, and i can hear one of my roommates rustling around in the bath. i just came back from a meeting with my graduate advisor, and i'm pausing -- an hour or two's "pause" -- to eat a bowl of cereal and deal with some correspondence before i go back to my lab to run a subject. this is the fourth letter i've written, in response to perhaps the twentieth i've read. i was up all night watching the perseid meteor shower, and it's been a busy day.... --vicka -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 17:12 EDT From: "E. ALLEN SMITH" There are three main places where I access email. My most common is in a long room with lots of Macintoshes set along one wall and various sinks and other lab equipment along the other (it's the Interlab between some medical student laboratories). How many other people are in there varies; since I can get to it 24 hours a day, I tend to access it in the evenings, nights, and early mornings, when there aren't very many. One problem with that lab is that it's freezing cold (I wear a greatcoat when I remember), I believe due to having a couple of cold rooms in the area that they don't want getting too much heat from the surroundings. The second most common, and the one I'm in when I'm typing this letter, is a white-walled office; I'm typing on an (early) IBM clone that's mainly just serving as a terminal. Sometimes there's someone else in here with me; sometimes there isn't (especially later at night). I'm sitting at a metal desk, the sort (unsurprisingly) one sees in most underfunded bureaucrat offices. Unlike my other two locations, the keys clatter pretty loudly (especially at my typing speed of 80+ WPM) on this machine. The third most common is a pretty usual computer lab, with tables on which one or two computers are sitting, a mixture of Macs and IBM clones (I prefer the latter - I hate GUIs and like to be able to exit from them). There are normally quite a few other people in there while I'm there, partially because it has set hours and thus I'm in there earlier in the day. It has the most modern machines of the three. I can't say that the chairs on any of these are particularly comfortable, although I've sat in worse; particularly with the first one, I get up a lot to move around. They do have a pretty adequate amount of padding, though. In all three cases, I tend to be on several hours at a time. When this isn't practical with the third one (due to the time limits on it), I go over to the first one. I spend a lot of time on the Net, both with Email and with the Web. Part of this is fun, part of this is work, but the biggest part of it is political activity. -Allen -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 21:06:51 -0400 (EDT) From: Will Sitch It's dark outside, and I just had to reset the lights - they turn themselves off after hours. Noone else is here in a building usually bustling with energy, and I listen to my headphones as they lay on the desk in front of me. BushX is playing. I'm sitting in the middle of a square room, facing east. To my right is the door to the lab, and on my left, two windows overlooking the grounds around our buildings. I sit at an open cubicle, one desk holding five machines, mine the middle one. Each machine is partitioned from the others with a half cubicle wall. The monitor is large, and the text crisp. A meagre Sparc2, but with a recently-acquired external CD-ROM drive. My desk is a mess, papers everywhere. I've been rewriting some code obviously written by a high school dropout, occasionally I stop and wonder how I would torture the original author of the meanderings I find before me. My brain tumor is acting up, trying to kill me before I reach the tender age of 20. His name is Hermit, although he thinks I should call him Hermie.. he is, after all, killing me. The cubicle walls are a grayish beige, almost a non-colour. Flourescent lights pour down on me from above, and on the worn carpet rest my sneakers. A screensaver on the machine to my left has caught my eye again, it appears to be a collection of diamonds placed in position based on their previous position, according to some mathematical equation relating the existance of a diamond to the number of surrounding diamonds. The Galium Arsenide (GaAs) Lab, in the Advanced Techology Labs, at Northern Telecom, is where I reside. My beeper stands beside a glass of water on the table holding the machine, ever vigilant. I had a date with a good female friend tonight, we were to get together and quaff a few brews, but I cancelled. I could not. I had to finish the work I had laid before me. Bullshit. The draw of the machine is powerful, I cannot remember the last time I moved from this seat. The music I'm listening to is very zen, Everything Zen is the first track. I am happy here. A long day has passed and noone else remains, they have all returned to their homes and families. A home and a family waits for me, but they will wait a while yet. My bike is probably one of the only ones left on the racks, funny that I seem to never see the slew of other bikes that must appear after I arrive, and leave before I. The other bikes must exist, for the racks are extensive. I awaight a friend. She is dining on salmon and wine, with good friends who are close and comforting to her. She too, however, is drawn. She will arrive in a few hours, walk in, sit down, and login. We will exchange simple conversation, and proceed to play an old game, the one of discovery. --- William J.D. Sitch -- wsitch@engsoc.carleton.ca; wsitch@nortel.ca Data Analysis, Northern Telecom, Advanced Technology Labs Technical Director for the Carleton Student Engineering Society Member of the EngSoc Board of Governors; ISIS Consultant 2nd Year Electrical Engineering Student @ Carleton University -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 22:16:24 -0400 (EDT) From: Michael Weholt My computer is tucked-crammed-slipped into a monstrosity, a rolling thing I built for it out of two-by-fours and plywood and wood screws and a few stove bolts. The wood is stained cherry everywhere except where my two cats have discovered that vertical two-by-fours of cheap pine make terrific scratching posts. They have carved deeply into one of the verticals, around a place where a knot has hardened the soft wood. I suppose the cats could eventually carve deeply enough into the wood to collapse the vertical, but that won't be for a while yet. The cart is just under six feet high (with its big rubber wheels on), two feet deep, three and a half feet wide. It's built to fit through every door in my apartment (well, except the bathroom door) so I can roll my computer around the joint and work wherever I want to work. There are shelves and nooks and hidey-holes and secret trapdoors up and down and all around the cart where I can shove books and small boxes of things, wherever I want them to be, so they can travel with me and my machine whenever I move the cart. I write ideas on bits of yellow paper and use thumbtacks to stick the bits of paper onto the wood, wherever convenient or most likely to recatch my attention. My favorite part is the "undershelf" bar-light glued to the plywood just above the space for my keyboard. Clicking it on, illuminating my keyboard, seems to tell my imagination it's time to go to work. Clicking it off means it's time to chill. The wood and books and all of it makes the thing very heavy, like a tank. It creaks and sways dangerously when I roll it around. Working in front of it is like sitting crosslegged and daydreaming at the end of an old, familiar pier. -- Michael R Weholt -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 23:03:23 -0400 From: lamaryates@igc.apc.org (Larry L. Yates) I have a room that has been set aside as my space since I moved in with Carol, now my wife, five years ago. The room, in a pre WWII garden apartment just outside Washington DC, is small, plain, and serene -- white walls, wood floor, second story, off to the side of the apartment. For a long time, it was also a spare bedroom and the home for most of my books. In one corner, I had an improvised office space where two wall units from Ikea held some items, including my aging Mac 512. I got into the habit of writing late at night, before going to work the next day, doing what now seems lush and exotic work -- writing a nonfiction book, poetry, letters to the editor -- expressing myself. Then a year ago I made this a full time home office. A lot of the personal items and the mattress went elsewhere. I got on the Internet. Now, I am always aware of work to be done here, and perhaps as much, of the presence of other people who will connect to me here in this room, once a private space, by phone or by e-mail. I still work late, but I'm more likely to be straightening out my accounting than writing a poem. And the larger screen of my PowerMac, the color, the speed of it, is more convenient, but also, by being transparent, in some ways less of an environment drawing me in than the gray/black intensity of my Mac. The space is very much mine, though. In two ways. One, that I always have paper running oot of control -- piles on the floor, stuffed drawers. But more important, that I always bring along fragments of my life with me as I move and change, in a very conscious way. Not far from my eyes, I have a shrine of objects of spiritual significance to me -- reflecting twenty three years (half my life) of intermittent and idiosyncratic ritual. Persons, places and events that no one could comprehend as I comprehend and connect them live there, in letters, masks, figurines, sea shells, dust. I have one window, but it's small and I don't face it. During the day, I feel a little connected to the outside noises and the Washington heat. At night, my mind is pretty much in the computer. Despite the appearance of this room, I am an intensely orderly person. I often amaze people by coming up with records from years ago. I simply use a dynamic system of ordering reality, so that new categories must constantly be created while old ones have not yet been disassembled. In many ways, once I connected to my original Mac, I found a way to reflect what was in my mind that was much more satisfying than the piles of papers I dragged through the years. But I know that the piles, the boxes, the pouches, the memorabilia, are a kind of memory that cannot be rendered obsolete, that i s not vulnerable in the same ways as electronic memory, that is as durable as my skull. I close with these words on a scrap or paper near my computer. I have had them somewhere close by for two decades in a dozen rooms. They encompass this room and the other rooms I have written in, the rooms inside my computer and along the Internet, the old heavy typewriter that I learned a lot about myself on and this very different machine that I type on tonight. The paper is torn, wrinkled, and stained and the words are handwritten in thick black pen strokes. this shrine is dedicated to art to revolution and to treachery this shrine is dedicated to all amphibian or hermaphroditic gods and to the continual mutation of their natures and of the nature of their worship this shrine is desecrated and consecrated by each vibration as it happens as it ceases and starts this shrine is another place Larry Yates Social Justice Connections P.O. Box 4090 Arlington VA 22204 703 553-4440 (phone/fax-call first) e-mail:lamaryates@igc.apc.org Writing and training services and publications for social justice activists. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 02:11:06 -0400 From: jdewey@crocker.com (Jeannie Dewey) The horses jar me back with their fierce naying. Must be a porcupine in the meadow again. When I turn to look out at them I notice the peepers have gotten melancholy and dim; the night is ringing with near silence. Maya, the middle child and the passionate Scorpio, is talking in her sleep again. In a minute I will likely find her wandering, in a state of semiconsciousness, and need to usher her back to bed. That kid never rests. I think that, like me, she is nocturnal, but she won't discover her natural rhythm until she's an adult and no one can tell her when to go to bed. Like me, she may spend years not sleeping at all, not knowing what to do with herself in those hours of solitude. I'll offer her then what I have found, the comfort and the companionship of words. I'll teach her the timelessness of writing - reading, developing her ideas, thoughts, inspirations. I'll give her what I know - the communion with the night, glowing eyes, a language in silence. We'll Email. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jeannie Dewey, MSW jdewey@crocker.com I am not standing Here before the Light to cast shadows ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 12 Aug 1996 23:55:47 -0700 From: ajm@leonardo.net (Adam J. Merims) I'm not your typical internet user. Or perhaps I am. I'm a film producer, a successful but aspiring one at that with half a dozen credits. I typically use the net exactly as I am doing now. Opening MacPPP and Eudora and getting 15 or so messages a day, many of them from the faceless, but not personality less Phil Agre. I sit in my darkened living room, the Mac CPU underneath my tiny english oak writing desk, with only the illumination from my Sony 15" to read my email by, responding when I should be going to bed, having had a full day of fitness in the am, phone calls, meetings, lunches, dinners or screenings, but insistently hung up on some Bill LeFurgy Culture in Cyberspace info, Robert Seidman's Online Insider, or some religious info from Israel. Behind my computer hangs a large horizontal Carlos Almaraz print with lots of color inside it's black framed borders, on either side of the print are two louvered windows with deep green silk Roman blinds. Sometimes if I'm not too tired, I'll load up Netscape and research something relating to a project or an avocation, until I'm so tired I have to go to sleep, only to repeat the cycle the very next night. Hope this helps. Adam J. Merims ajm@leonardo.net -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 00:27:20 -0700 From: jpd@research.apple.com (Paul Dourish) Right now, I'm sitting on a sofa with a laptop on my knees, alternately paying attention to this message and to an episode of Star Trek on television. This is a pretty common situation, especially when dealing with non-work email, and when I want to take some time to send more reflective messages to friends. When I'm at work, I'm sitting in a pretty standard, white-walled office, with the usual accompaniments; too many cups of coffee, the noises of people walking past, talking on phones or chatting in corridors. I moved here about a month ago, and the things which really strike me about where I sit are some things which I left behind in my old office. At my previous lab, we worked on media spaces -- computer-controlled audio/video environments. My previous office wasn't so unlike my current one, except that in one corner, just to the left of my workstation, sat a video camera and monitor which linked me to the rest of the environment. For over three years, it sat connected to the office of a colleague on another floor, on the other side of the building. We had found that we were each much happier when the view of the other's office included not just the office itself, but also a view out the door and into the space beyond, to see people wandering by and to be able to engage them in conversation. I also had access to a system I built about five years ago called Portholes, which would collect and display video images taken every few minutes from the offices of colleagues, both at our own lab and in another corporate lab a couple of thousand miles away. On the surface, this was about giving us a picture of activity throughout the organisation, and the kind of awareness of ongoing action built up from information like the sounds of conversation which we share in a physical space. Deeper down, what it gave us was a sense of community amongst friends and research colleagues who otherwise wouldn't meet each other for months, but who now had some form of regular access. Email provided us with the means to talk to each other and discuss substantive topics; but it gave no way to tell when people were happy, sad, angry, upset or just working late into the night. After five years... it feels rather odd to be without it. Star Trek's just finished. -- Paul. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 09:12:59 +0000 From: k.l.brunskill@aston.ac.uk (Kate Brunskill) I sit at a desk which faces a wall and there are no windows within sight of my desk. The wall has a notice board on it which is so hard that pins fall out of it and anything pinned to it falls onto the floor; so the wall is plain. My attempts to get the desk shifted around, so that it looks out into the open-plan office in which I work, have failed. The janitorial staff are in charge of moving furniture and a date was set for them to come and move the desk around. A couple of days before this date, a man came along with a drill and some strong cable; he had to attach my computer to the wall with the cable, because people have been stealing computers all around campus. The cable isn't long enough to allow the desk to be moved without the computer falling on the floor. To look on the bright side, at least the lack of any kind of view means I don't have any distractions from my work. Kate Brunskill -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 16:27:14 EST From: "Anne Beaumont" I now have the nicest office I have ever had. The walls are a lovely buttery cream, and non-ergonomically, (really too much glare) my computer faces a wall in which is a 1.75x3metre north-facing window. Here in Australia that means that the sun comes in and on sunny days the office is wonderfully bright, and even on dull days like today I can tell what the weather is like. We are on the second floor of a building facing onto a major street in our CBD, opposite RMIT, so that the view includes 2 trees (deciduous, so currently bare) a pseudo-sort-of-gothic building and passing cars and trams. On the wall beside my desk is a notice-board on which is pinned my Wilderness Calendar. This month it shows a view of Mount Feathertop in the Bogong High Plains which are is the northeast of our state. Because it is winter, this view shows the mountains snow-capped. Last month's view was of the Polbue Swamp in fog - very evocative. http://www.vicnet.net.au/~twsmel/ - no photographs unfortunately. You may wonder why I mention my calendar. Apart from the wonderful photographs, it is important because I use it as a source of passwords. There is ususally some aboriginal name or species name which, with judicious use of alternative characters, would be very difficult to crack using a standard dictionary or gazateer. And being next to my computer, when I forget the password(s) it is easy to check. Beside my computer is a ceramic coaster which I bought in Sausalito in 1984 - the year I bought my first computer, a Kaypro luggable - which I brought back to Australia. But that is a different story. Anne Beaumont, Application Support, Information Technology, State Library of Victoria 328 Swanston Street, Victoria, Australia. 3000 tel:+61(03)966 999 38,fax:+61(03)966 99 958,(anneb@slv.vic.gov.au) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 96 09:20:41 -0400 From: "Dr. Tom Blinn, 603-881-0646" I have two computers that I often use to access the Internet. My primary system is in my office at work -- actually, I'm surrounded by a number of Alpha workstations all running Digital UNIX. My main system (the one that I'm using as I type this message) is a DEC 3000 Model 900, an older system design that is a very reliable workhorse. It's got loads of memory and a reasonably fast CPU, lots of disk storage, and reasonable graphics (with a 17" Trinitron monitor). The work I do involves supporting various system designs in the Digital UNIX operating system, and as a result I have other systems here -- all based on various designs built by Digital Semiconductor (the folks who make the Alpha CPU chips and other chip-level products) and by technology partners such as Aspen Systems and Tadpole Techology PLC. My office is a typical "cubicle", roughly 8' x 10', with a large U-shaped work surface, many bookcases (piled with manuals and other stuff), one file cabinet (mostly full of spare parts), and lots of clutter. I am a pack rat at heart, and I mostly organize things in piles -- when the piles get to the point where I can't work on the work surfaces, I do pile management and toss the stuff I haven't used since the last time that I don't think I'll use ever again. I've got a cow pattern cookie jar that moos when you lift off the head to get to the chocolate candy inside. I've got a 365 Cats calendar that I do not always remember to turn, because I mostly use the catclock flavor of the X clock, and an X calendar program. I still do the bulk of my work using low-tech text oriented programs, such as "vi" and Rand MH -- largely because I do part of my work from home, and I haven't yet got my second home PC running Linux well enough that I'd try to run SLIP or PPP into my work system to use X oriented tools or NFS mounted file systems. The other home system is a Micron Millenia P166 with a 17" NEC monitor and Windows 95. My employer (also my wife's employer) Digital Equipment offers unlimited free Internet access via dial-up PPP, and Windows 95 works fine for this, so we do most of our web browsing from home using Netscape. We've also got a POP mailbox on a local ISP (mv.net) so we do some Internet mail from home using Microsoft Exchange's remote mail utility. And we also have Compuserve access, although we don't use it a lot (I can't get excited about a numeric user ID, and I refuse to patronize AOL). The home system is in the den, and it's harder to work at home because the cats like to sit on the desk between you and the screen and poke at the keyboard with their paws. The work office has Dilbert comic strips, and Shoe, and my Red Knuckles and the Trailblazers bumper sticker, and post-it notes (the real ones as well as the generic kind, since Digital is stingy about office supplies) all over the place for reference. Tom Dr. Thomas P. Blinn, UNIX Software Group, Digital Equipment Corporation 110 Spit Brook Road, MS ZKO3-2/U20 Nashua, New Hampshire 03062-2698 Technology Partnership Engineering Phone: (603) 881-0646 Internet: tpb@zk3.dec.com Digital's Easynet: alpha::tpb -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 02:38:56 -0700 From: "Robert B. Gelman" Imagine this: On a redwood forested mountaintop, 2500 feet above San Francisco bay, is an old barn, converted into a home. In one corner of that home is a single-man, sitting at a high-end multimedia Macintosh. The computer sits amidst phone, fax, printer, answering machine, card files, disk files and shelves full of supplies and paper files. Now pull back and you see that the desk is really a makeshift table construction that is in the kitchen! The sink is four feet away, the refridgerator just a reach over the shoulder. Under this "kitchen" desk, apparently supporting it, are two wiremesh chest-of-drawers...more appropriate in a bedroom closet than a kitchen. It's the wee hours of the morning, and I'm checking my mail for the last time before I saunter off to bed, when I notice the yard lights automatically come on. This is a sure-fire indication that I'm being visited by local deer, out for an early breakfast of my lawn! RB Gelman ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: 13 Aug 96 15:30:03 EDT From: Laura Maaske <76172.367@CompuServe.COM> To my right are large bay windows. I could peer over 19 floors down onto Toronto's Bay street if I bothered to look. The only sound, aside from light rain and occasional thunder (sheesh, I shouldn't really be at the computer now!), is the hum of the refrigerator and the tapping of these keys. My calico cat is hiding beneath the desk, tickling my naked toes, because she's scared of thunder. Around me are scattered various manuals for graphics programs and numerous sketches I'm making for different medical illustration projects. On my electronic desk are the outline for my first master's committee meeting (wish it were my last), a letter to a non-e-mailing friend, and some classified ads for computer software (Do you know a good deal for Macromedia Director 5?). Soon I will be back to making thumbnails for a book cover, but I tapped into the computer momentarily to print a proposal and collect my mail. Laura Maaske 76172.367@compuserve.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 21:36:52 -0700 From: Josephine Rodriguez-Hewitt I sit in my study at home surrounded by my books, thoughts about a dissertation I should be writing, and the noise of crickets provide background music. ... Josie -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 11:28:45 -0400 From: Michael Century Where I sit, there's a piano keyboard to my left, always within arm's reach. I play music whenver I can, sometimes left hand only while mousing with the right. Music software of course can be configured to let me play with both hands and also to send control signals to the computer. But when I'm online, the music is -- for now limited to one-handed fragments. Where next I sit, I want to be able to play online chamber music, rooms joining rooms, that's my top suggestion for ways to add conviviality to cyberspace. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 16:25:08 -0400 From: Melody Winnig I work at home and my office study is next to my bedroom and down the hall from my two teenage kids and the constant flow of raging young male hormones & cars and phones and comings and goings -- especially in the summertime. Consequently, perhaps, I have developed 2 eccentric habits. What I sometimes do is work barefoot at my computer and immerse my feet in a large pan filled with lavender blossoms and flax seeds. This sensation is very soothing, grounds my body and balances out the mental processes I'm involved in most of the day. When I am wrapped up in a thought process or how to define a phrase (that is when my hands aren't tapping out notes on a keyboard) I grab a ball of handmade scented soap and kind of mold it with my hands as I am thinking. It smells like the land in Provence, France, where I used to live and I shape the ball as I shape my next thoughts and then return to the keyboard. When you posted your request, you probably weren't expecting these ..... but thanks for the opportunity to share. Melody Winnig mwinnig@tiac.net The Electronic Publishing Group 508-358-2207 "I saw you from my dreaming tree." M.F. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 18:52:58 CST6CDT From: "Larry A. Etkin" I work at two locations, which currently have significantly different surroundings, and they are acturally both "sort of" new situations. My primary local is an interior office with a locking door, with walls filled with shelves of computer software (in front and above me), directories and reference books (to my left, above my regular desk), and reference copies of the publication monographs in the Minnesota Agricultural Experiment Station series my position is responsible for. I have a very nice ergonomic chair and an ergo LexMark keyboard that is unfortunately out of production, a 21" color monitor, scanner, and laser printer printer in my office, all conveniently arrayed around me and attached to a Pentium 100 clone with 4GB of harddisk. They just finished an asbestos removal project in my wing of the building, and replaced the overhead flourescent lights with brighter, more efficient units, that unfortunately seem to have a harsher, whiter spectrum. I've got plenty of space on my desk to my left to spread out the hard copy materials I often work with. There are many safe places to park my oversized tea mug, and two fans behind me which I hope I'll rarely need again once they turn the air circulation system back on at full throttle when the final floor's reconstruction is finished next month. Air circulation has always been a problem for the six of us who have offices in an internal central core of this floor in our building. A plain jane salvation army rescued radio is on behind me most of the day, set to Minnesota Public Radio's news and public affairs network. When they get into repeats if I work late, I switch over to Moody Blues, Renniassance, or a variety of jazz, folk rock or classical CD through my computer sound capability. Overall, my office is actually quite open and utilitarian, especially compared to the clutter and space crunch I was in before I "cleaned house" prior to a 10-week moveout to temporary space while the asbestos work was in progress. One of the elements of the pre-asbestos clutter was the presence of a second computer in the back corner of my office. This was my own "home office" system that I was housing in my work office while fighting for my house in a divorce/custody dispute. I won and have recently moved that setup back to my house but in a situation very different that before my forced departure some time before. I'd previously housed my home office with my drafting tables and art equipment in a large attic studio type space. With a new need to provide child oversight when working at home, I now have a computer only home office housed in a small 10x10 room off my first floor dining room. I'd describe the space generally as a small, cluttered environment. The walls are, however, a pleasant newly repainted medium green, with semi-gloss white trim. As at work, I've arranged my hardware conveniently around me. Computer wise, until recently, most of my own equipment was better than what I had at work. But now I need to upgrade my stuff at home in the near future. The 7-year-old 19" high-res b&w monitor/486 system is clearly insufficent for the color work I now do a lot of. (I'm actually amazed that the monitor is even useful under Win'95, since no company is around to support that hardware anymore -- How many 7-year-old pieces of computer hardware are still being used productively these days?) But the presence of my kitchen and my kids makes it a pretty nice place to be when I need to take work home. I'm planning on adding PC-Anywhere soon to tie my two systems together. And a few more shelves on a not yet adorned wall should turn the clutter into "cozy" instead (Or so I'm trying to convince myself.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Larry A. Etkin Senior Editor--Experiment Station Educational Development System, University of Minnesota 1420 Eckles Ave, 405 Coffey Hall, St. Paul, MN 55108-6068 E-MAIL: PHONE: 612/625-4272 FAX: 612/625-2207 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "My interest is in the future because I'm going to spend the rest of my life there." --Charles F. Kettering (1949) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 96 21:26:25 -0400 From: glk1@crux2.cit.cornell.edu Hanging above my head is an 8-foot slide rule that I saved from my high school dumpster. I usually joke that it's for number crunching in the cases where my workstation just isn't fast enough, but it's really there to inject some randomness and backwardness into my office. On the wall are some favorite images- photos of murals outside the Isetan department store in Shinjuku Tokyo, the cover from the demo tape of the hardcore band I was in, some cross-sections of an obscure four dimensional object, and a calendar from the El Castillito taqueria (2092 Mission St, San Fransisco) which has a picture of some goofy smiling guy who's hat and shirt are too small, holding a cigarette butt. I have some glow-in-the-dark plastic stars stuck to my monitor, and various bits of junk on top of it: oversized nuts and washers, a pulley, a wheel from a skateboard, pieces of tin foil, a shard of glass. Gordon Kindlmann Program of Computer Graphics, Cornell University http://www.graphics.cornell.edu/~gordon/ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 96 20:22:00 PDT From: "Michael Mery" I'm a married, 58 year old part time carpenter, with 5 grown children, one of my own and 4 step. Connie and I have been married for 13 years and live in Pt. Reyes Station, California. I spent my childhood here, was gone from 1955 to 1974 when I moved back. I work, for money, 3 days a week. My avocations are local political work, ad hoc environmental organizations, and I'm the president of the board of the local non profit medical practice. My desk is in our 2nd bedroom, "L" shaped, with various piles of paper representing my interests. Connie and I also volunteer for a small NGO in San Francisco with supports small scale development projects in Asia, Africa and Latin America. We have travelled for them in the Philippines and in India to which we will return for a month of work early next year. My work day varies from wearing my nail belt, working on doors, roofs, windows, etc., to meetings with various organizations, to checking my email in the evening and checking the web for various sorts of information (who might help in project proposal evaluation on a women's dairy cooperative in southern India?) through usenet, various home pages, etc. My level of interest in the net varies according to my current activities other than a strong curiousity in the process. Where am I going with this? I find the web and email a way to reach out to other places and other times in order to find those people with interests and politics congruent with mine. This reaching out is one small way to hedge against what seems to be a fearsome tribalization of interests and politics. I love working the edge of a powerful reality changing so rapidly that any attempt at clear definition is a laugher. Michael Mery mmery@nbn.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 23:19:47 -0500 (CDT) From: Bruce Roberts I have a b&w Mac laptop which is terrific because I can sit in my comfortable chair in the living room, put my feet up, and type and read downloaded messages in great comfort. It fits the bill as far as far as being more or less like a book. I have only one battery so I loose power in a little over an hour. I have thought about either putting a second battery in the case, or plugging myself in to the wall (no big deal). But as a matter of fact I find that the hour limit is kind of nice and forces a break in the routine which gets me to do the other things which need doing before both my eyes and mind get blurry. If I do this in the morning when my mind is fresh, I am pretty productive. When I sit at my desk computer at home or at work I usually feel more tense for some reason and I neither enjoy it as much nor am I as productive, even though I will stick with it for hours at a time. It may be the work related context (notebooks, books, stack of papers, files, numbers, etc.) simply sends subtle messages that this is work not fun. I don't know. My biggest frustrations come from on-line Internet connections from my home. The breaks in the link are more than a little frustrating and they cause a serious3 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 22:17:31 +0000 From: "John Statler" It's a mess around here. I can never seem to keep it straightened out. I have way too many projects floating in my head, reflected in the screen, and spread all over the floor. The TV glares in my extreme left vision. The fan sings its soft blow-song. The printer broke, it's like I have a sick friend. My gray hairs, wrinkled face and gruff-worker hands seem sometimes out of place. But I might have another twenty years to see and help social change. The dream is alive, floating around this mess somewhere. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Aug 1996 13:20:03 -0400 From: Robin Duggar I work both at home and at "the office". Though I have access to a T1 at "the office" I prefer working from home, with my 28.8 modem. I have a separate telephone line for the computer. I've converted my dining room into my work area. I spend my day at home pouring through dozens of e-mail messages, writing memos and reports, and tweeking a multiuser database system via dial-up. I have the cd player going almost constantly as I work. From my workstation I can look out the window at my bird feeder, and the catnip garden where I burried my dearly departed kitty this past spring. I enjoy spending time alone in my house, even if I am working. Every now and then, I take a half an hour out to accomplish some household chore that might not otherwise get done when my husband and three year old are under foot. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Aug 1996 13:30:25 -0400 (EDT) From: Selia Karsten I'm a college instructor (this coming semester, presentation tools: Power Point and web pages) working parttime on a doctorate in multimedia curriculum. I do a little free-lance web design as well. In my home office I have a huge executive style desk with pull-out boards above the drawers and a shelf that pulls out below the central drawer for a keyboard. To my left is the monitor and mouse for the 486 which is connected to a dot matrix printer at the back of the desk beside a 14.4 modem. Behind the PC's monitor is a lamp and a standing file rack, around the base of the monitor: a cup with pens, stapler, jumble of papers, notes. To my right is the monitor for the 650 Centris, the keyboard and mouse and just upstage and right of that, are stacked, HD1, HD2, EZ Drive and 28.8 modem. I'll have to rearrange a bit when the MAC colour inkjet printer and the scanner arrive. I've just upgraded with these new peripherals. The drawing tablet and pen rest on top of the MAC's monitor guarded by a stuffed multicoloured gekko. There's usually a glass of water on a coaster from the Alhambra. In the room to the right is a filing cabinet with a lamp and a telephone on top. Sliding doors are open into the living room with mapletree shaded bay windows, couch, chairs, tv on a stand with 2 VCRs, angled now so I can watch while at the keyboard. There's an exercycle and more book-stuffed shelves, lots of video tapes of shows I never have time to watch. Behind me are wall to wall shelves with lots of books and a CD player, tape cassette, amplifier and CDs. I usually listen to classical, jazz or native flute. There are earphones for when I want to crank it up while working late. To my left are wall to wall shelves as well, full of file baskets, papers, references for software, HTML, JavaScript, Perl, etc., diskettes. Atop these shelves are a large plant, a poster from a cat show in Paris, a printer's box full of colorful collectables from my travels. I sit in a proper padded office chair to work - the wall I face is all north windows looking onto a neighbours' roof and dormer. The other chair is to my left and often holds my backpack, a spill of books and papers and one of two cats. The walls are palest cinnamon and there are a few drawings by me. Pictures of friends and a collection of small boxes litter all the shelves. It's a wonderful place to work! Selia Karsten skarsten@oise.utoronto.ca http://www.oise.utoronto.ca/~skarsten -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Aug 1996 11:17:51 +0000 From: "Mitch Wagner" I'm sitting at my desk in my office. Place is filled with papers. News releases, our publication, our competitors' publications, pictures of the cats for the company newsletter, xeroxes of page proofs. A pile of papers on the floor that's going to go to the recycle bin real soon now. Whatever happened to the paperless office? To my left is a gorgeous view of San Francisco Bay. I can watch the planes land and take off. I can also watch idiots drive around in an empty lot across the street. They bring four-wheel drives in when it's muddy, and tear up what could be a perfectly nice little wetlands with their beer-commercial fantasies. Sometimes they get stuck and have to be pulled out with a tow truck. We like it when this happens. Yay for nature! I am a cube rat. My desk is surrounded by five-foot high dividers. It's a corner cube so I have quite a bit of visual privacy. I have one or two odd-looking and funny things posted on the walls, but not a lot--they have to be =really= clever or funny before they make it to the walls. I have not posted any Dilbert cartoons. Too common. -- mitch w. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Aug 1996 12:27:18 +1000 (EST) From: Cameron Simpson At present I sit in an open-plan office before an Axil-320 (Sun Sparc/20 clone), surrounded by the happy click and hum of other tech-heads. I am one of four sysadmin staff here to care for the mostly-IBMPCs and some Macs and UNIX boxen. A far cry from the solitrary cold office with floor to ceiling window I had in my morgue-like previous life some months ago. The dismal grey outside world (it's overcast today) is visible off to my right through the windows. Before me the cheery grin on my skull-mug warms my heart as I peer in to see if I'm out of coffee yet. My desk is it's usual clutter, somewhat reduced now that my bookshelf has arrived. I actually copped some flak for getting a black one - it seems grey is the order of the day here. Sad but true. I'm interspersing my email reading with numerous small jobs as they trickle into out bug-tracking system. Today seems especially fertile for these - we've got about 6 just this morning, most unusual. Seriously, this is actually a pretty nice place, but then R&D departments tend to be. Late in the afternoon the happy play of developers with nerf-guns etc can be heard, or Graham's cheery wildly- out-of-tune whistle and the accompanying suggestions for his career in show-biz. At any time of day may be heard bewailings of the most recently discovered Microsoft cretinism or cries of horror and dismay at the latest waste of bandwidth on the Web. Time for more coffee I think... - Cameron Simpson cameron@research.canon.com.au, DoD#743 http://www.dap.csiro.au/~cameron/ -- Oh, what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive. And when we've practiced for awhile, How we do improve our style! - Dorothy Parker -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 16 Aug 1996 01:59:31 +0100 From: hlake@fundraising.co.uk (Howard Lake) I sit on a six-foot long dark-wooden table set against a blank white wall. The window is to my left, about two feet from me. I can't quite look down on to our garden but I can see the backs of about four terraced houses. There's often a dog barking a little further up the road, but it is late now and I can't hear much movement at all, apart from the sound of two desk clocks ticking slightly out of phase with each other. I'm in a study - it used to be a bedroom - on the first floor of our rented house in South West London (not far from the Wimbledon tennis courts). I've got a copy of yesterday's The Guardian newspaper resting on my printer on the table, beside a red and black angle-poise lamp which I borrowed from a friend of a friend and failed to return, and an egg-timer. I'm sitting on three cushions and thinking that I really must buy a sensible chair. ------------------------------------ Howard Lake Fundraising UK Ltd 36 Palestine Grove, London, SW19 2NQ hlake@fundraising.co.uk http://www.fundraising.co.uk Tel: + 44 (0)181-640 5233 ------------------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 16 Aug 1996 14:38:28 +1000 From: Kerry.Moore@jcu.edu.au (Kerry Moore) I have been in this position for one month. I had to hit this place running so I haven't really got my office worked out the way I want. I didn't have a computer for two weeks which was as frustrating as hell, and it took me two to three (actually more like five) days to transfer stuff of interest from my last work place, install new software, unsubscribe and resubscribe to my 11 email lists, as well as a few new ones connected with my new job. It also took time to get an email account, luckily my last worksplace is redirecting email for up to 90 days... The new computer has problems....everyone here uses a different platform or system or software .......more frustrations. I've realised how much my professionalism (efficiency of producing things, ability to network etc.) is tied up with having had a reliable computer and consistency of platform in the workplace! But its not all bad. I look out onto a forested suburb and the Wet Tropic World Heritage area of North Qld. Occasionally a kangaroo will hop onto the campus. My new computer (Apple Mac 7200/120) takes up too much room on my desk (hard drive, two monitirs -one 17 inch, plus keyboard) which is a little frustrating when you want to work with paperwork and a telephone around you.... but I'll improve this shortly. The other frustration which is new to this position (I have moved from the capital city of Canberra to far north Queenlsand) is that the electricity supply here is problematic- brownouts, spikes, and thunderstorms, and complete blackouts are common. Today I plugged in a A$700 power surge protector just to be on the safe side. I had the same problem running a multimedia workshop at a university in Thailand.... but worse. I have to put some pot plants around and some posters. I have put a lot of my reference books on the shelves in front of me. Its a quiet place to work-my last place had a cattle yard atmosphere, this is more grave yard. The windows can't be opened which is the most annoying thing-I swear at times you could count the available oxygen molecules on one hand. They don't want us to be able to open the windows becaues it stuffs up the airconditioning. Now I know this is not something which bothers people o/s, because in some countries (Canada as I have experienced) they are used to central heating and no open windows. Kerry Moore Postal Address: Extension Officer Cooperative Research Centre for Tropical Rainforest Ecology & Management PO Box 6811 Cairns Qld AUSTRALIA Tel: + 66 (070) 42 1254 Fax: + 66 (070) 42 1247 *************************** The headquarters of this Centre is physically located at the Cairns campus of James Cook University of North Queensland. Core Partners include CSIRO; James Cook University of North Queensland; Griffith University; The University of Queensland; and the Wet Tropics Management Authority. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 16 Aug 1996 17:10:09 +0100 From: zurawsk@uni-muenster.de (Nils Zurawski) I usually start right after I get up getting my mail down. So I am still in my pyjamas. I switch the music on, make some tea and the breakfast for my family. I have breakfast and a shower and then I start working. I work on my Ph.D. thesis, i.e reading, writing and thinking, also answering phone calls, writing letters, doing personal stuff. Although the computer runs almost all day I don't work on it all day. My desk is usually filled with the books and copies I need for my work plus the computer (MAC), the moden and the printer. Everything else that I need occasinonally I drag out of the big shelves to my left and right. Most important here for my work ismy Cd collection as I listen to music when I work, the kind depending on how I feel that very day. outside my window lies a quiwt street in a residential neighbourhood, i.e. 2-3 floor houses with appartments and litlle gardens aaround them. It is an average German working class/ small bourgoise neighbourhood, not very nice, but good to live in. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 16 Aug 1996 17:33:42 -0500 (CDT) From: Lorrie Faith Cranor I sit at my computer in my small graduate student office located on the fourth floor of Washington University's Lopata Hall. While the office is small and the heating and air conditioning system at this end of the building leaves a lot to be desired, I am fortunate to have a private office with my own window to the outside world. The window is my office's best feature. Were it not for the physics building across the way, I would have a clear view of the St. Louis arch from here. But at this distance the arch is static, so I'm not missing much. Instead I have a view of the roof of the physics building that astronomy students must cross to get to the campus observatory. I also have a view of the roof corner of a neighboring engineering building that seems to be a favorite perch for various species of birds who alternately win perching rights for several weeks at a time. And I have a nice view of a small courtyard where people like to exercise their dogs. Being a dog lover, I find this view particularly appealing. But my favorite view is of a nearby oak tree. From my fourth-floor vantage point I have a rather intimate view of the tree and the various birds and squirrels that inhabit it. I watch the bare tree sprout buds in spring, which turn into tiny leaves, and then almost over night the tree is full and green. In fall the leaves turn orange and red before they drop. And always there are birds: cardinals, bluejays, pigeons, crows, and many more that I can't identify. Occasionally one will land on my window sill, which usually has the effect of startling both of us. The squirrels can be quite interesting to watch too, especially when they are engaged in some purposeful activity such as a futile attempt at building a nest by balancing fresh leaves precariously on a tree branch. I placed my computer, an ailing SPARC 1+ named barbaloot, on a small table next to the window, so that I can stare out the window as I type with only a slight turn of my head. My monitor, propped up on an old St. Louis phone book, has post-it notes stuck around the edges. Atop the monitor sit a small golden pothos, an African violet that won't flower, and a frog shaped bean bag that my brother got in exchange for proofs of purchases from several granola bar boxes. I had hoped the pothos would grow a long stem that would creep around my monitor, but it has grown only a handful of new leaves in the two years that it has been here. Too short to sit with proper typing posture at most tables, I've raised my chair to keep my elbows at the right height, and placed another old phone book on the floor to rest my feet on. I have to be careful about typing posture, otherwise I suffer wrist and finger pain--but with the help of a few phone books I can keep it under control. My computer is surrounded by cassette tapes, various Perl, C, Unix, and LaTeX books, an Emacs reference card, a dictionary, various drafts of my dissertation, and lots of official Washington University punch cards that I rescued from the trash and now use as note cards and bookmarks (it's also interesting to see how many of the undergrads who enter my office don't know what they are). I have a small radio/cassette player next to my computer, borrowed from a friend to provide some background noise after my stereo stopped working several months ago. On another desk behind me is my phone, which I regularly manage to knock onto the floor. The desk is stacked with piles of books, including almost every voting theory book from my university library. I have a book shelf too, filled mostly with old text books and a large collection of computers and society books, many inherited from a retiring professor. Above my computer table is a bulletin board to which I've attached three years worth of conference name badges, a few newspaper clippings, printouts of some of my computer graphics, several pages from a feminist page-a-day calendar, a "C++ SUCKS!" button, and lots of photographs. One of the photos is of my dad dressed in a train engineers costume and posing in front of his Lionel train layout. Another is of my husband posing next to a llama. These are comforting photos, as is a photo I took of a patch of black-eyed susans that I had enlarged a few winters back until the flowers were life sized. The black-eyed susan is the Maryland state flower, and reminds me of Maryland where I grew up. It's also a golden yellow color that makes the winter seem sunnier. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 17 Aug 96 17:10:31 -0600 From: "P. Eads" I've never really contemplated my surroundings until now, so I'm finding this to be a novel evaluation. Here goes. I sit in an what used to be an old bedroom which receives shade from a large tree in my front yard. The view from the room faces east onto a fairly quiet neighborhood street so that I can hear and watch the kids as they go to school as well as the rest of the neighborhood's daily activities. I like to leave the window open so that I can get the cool morning breezes through the room as well as enjoy how they intermingle with the classical music that I listen to as I compute. Between the two, a pleasantly relaxed morning is usually enjoyed. My work area is an oversized computer desk that has bookshelf space that is filled with various books that I use as reference for various projects that I do. The desk itself has a clipboard and pad of paper that I use to keep notes on various projects that I'm working on as well as the usual modem and printer that is essential to my computer existance. I keep my favorite music CD's on top of the bookshelf to inspire me in those moments when my mind goes blank. The desk is also decorated by various art given to me by my child which helps to remind me what is really important when I let computing "take over" my life. It also helps that my butt reminds me that computing has taken over my life too. I get so engrossed in what I'm doing, that trying to get up and move, after a long period of time, can be a lesson of a body that feels as if it is one stiff arthritic joint. Overall, it is a room that is a good mix of real life and pseudo real life. Penny - ----- - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- P. Eads Do you know what privacy is? If you do, then you'd better know that you don't have it on the internet. You're just a databit with a $ sign attached. - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 20 Aug 1996 23:00:05 -0300 From: desmith@cycor.ca (Dorothy E. Smith) Where I sit: A basement -- I sit under a five by three window, a dead lily, survivor of my 70th birthday bouquets tottering in a green glass bottle, 70th birthday cards stacked in the embrasure. There too a picture of grandson Sam, very small then, alone in the middle of a field, a little bundle. My basement is just one continuous room, but spacious with dedicated spots. My work spot -- this is it -- is marked off by a circle of papers and books on the floor and by the iranian carpet they rest on. Beyond the circle easy chairs, a tv, my stereo -- currently out of order and I'm looking for the warranty, and at the end of this leg of the basement, a duvet-smothered bed, also cascading with books (paper is really a very very slowly moving liquid). Photographs tacked up on the walls (I like to take photos but am not very good); they are fragments of hikes one to my left of deep snow on a trail through a ravine in Toronto on the other side of Canada. My desk is piled with paper, books, diskettes; Lots of unanswered letters, at the top of the pile a guilt-generating one from a friend -- "now it is only ten years or so since your last letter" (she's being sarcastic). I'm outside schedules now for about half the year, but still I never seem to it all done, though there'd always be more of what all would be. I don't hack; don't do much internet, mainly because my software is a bit balky and switches me off every time I try to get through to 'deathnet';. Here I just work with a compaq laptop hitched to color monitor, though in my other work place I have more. I am resolved to upgrade but am too busy to make the arrangements as well as being currently a bit broke. And then, I'm of the bookish generation: along the wall to my left are bookshelves, a geological series of almost a lifetime (not quite over though): lots and lots of poetry -- some canon stuff, and a long shelf of women's movement poetry, fat-paperbacked encyclopedias (linguistics, modern social thought, cultural theory, etc.), fat and thin software instructional books, books on language, postmodernism, the sociology of large-scale organization (my field); under my work table boxes of files, disorderly. I see as I look around that it's a room full of relics as well as/including the books and papers: my month in Japan celebrated in a wallhanging -- blue icons flying on pale cream -- a Japanese friend gave me; on the wall too, a pale cream photo of a single cormorant sitting far out in the mist on a rock in the sea in the Burrard Inlet here in Vancouver -- I took that the day after Christmas walking with Dave, Ann and Sam along the seawall and then I messed up the shutter of my camera putting a new film in with gloved and clumsy hands; the green glass bottle a faint reminder of a long-ago marriage; twenty-or-more year old rose petals in a glass jar (my mother dried them for me on her last visit here). My dining table to my right, round and oak, and at the moment set with a Tarot spread -- I'm trying to learn to read this stuff, so far without much success; I may not have the right kind of mind. Kids' toys stacked in the other window embrasure ready for Sam's visits. Round the corner a kitchen invisible from here. It's night and a plane flying over and the refrigerator and my computer humming mark the silence all around them; nothing on the street now and no wind in the big chestnut trees along the street. I love how this place smells though I only notice it when I come back in and feel at home. And at this moment, I'm really going to sleep but not quite making it into bed. -- Professor Dorothy E. Smith Dept. of Sociology in Education OISE 252 Bloor St. W. Toronto, Ontario M5S 1V6 Internet: dsmith@oise.on.ca -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 21 Aug 1996 16:19:25 +1000 (EST) From: Michael Lean On my left hand side, a window, three stories up, but looks out on a little garden of Australian ferns in a windowbox. A great place for amorous pigeons, and later for flying lessons for the babies. The desk is dominated by a 486 with all the trimmings, but is also cluttered in a friendly way with an hourglass for anachronism, a globe of the world, made in the USA - to tell me where I'm going, and Alice's white rabbit, watch in coat pocket, to remind me of the passing time. Filing cabinet at right of desk, topped by fishtank where lives Rastus, the goldfish, who eats all his decorative plants. Coffee table littered with old copies of 'Wired', and on the wall beside the door, a brass ship's clock, which confuses listeners with its chime. Laden bookshelves behind me, groaning under the weight of legal references and other interesting stuff. Walls have bits and pieces from my days as a photographer, and travels around. Usually messy, but comfortable. Regards, Mike -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 21 Aug 96 18:30:49 -0700 From: dnoelle@cs.ucsd.edu (David Noelle) The UCSD AI Lab (North) is a collection of old metal desks, painted a yellowish tan and equipped with fake wood-grain finishes on their pressboard tops, aligned in rows which are occasionally interupted by fabric covered workspace dividers. These graduate student stalls are behind me, playing as active a role in my Cartesian theater of consciousness as the low rattling hum of the ventilation system. The current scene is framed by a proscenium arch of dull tan plastic, with the blue diamond Sun logo stamped to the lower left. The sliding text cursor is also blue, bound inside a white Emacs window bordered in blue, resting atop a blue washed H. R. Giger backdrop entitled "Biomechanical Soul". It takes a moment to disengage from the raster scanned scene, temporarily releaving the black pad before the keyboard of its job as wrist, elbow, and forehead rest. Leaning back in my chair raises my gaze from the line of technical books and papers on my desk, from the dark ceramic stein of water, the red plastic radio, the toy skull perched on a stack of CDs, and the miniature "Thinker", to the tall thin windows before me. Facing the room's corner, the windows to the right reveal the fifth floor bridge between this building and its neighbor. Though only meters away, I haven't been out on that bridge for a while. While I was away from my desk one night, a fellow graduate student decided to take a dive off that bridge to meet his end. I didn't find out until the next day. Shifting to the windows on the left, I can see the ledges of the neighboring building, still strewn with the twigs and leaves which once formed the birthing place of a large black raven. The drama of a new life played before me every day for one season on that tiny outdoor stage. The sun is setting on the vacant nest. Inside, pale fluorescents light the black block lettering in the DayRunner before me, reminding me of all that still calls out to be done. I lean forward, once again, into the digital blue. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 22 Aug 1996 09:06:08 -0700 (PDT) From: Putnam Barber I look out a bay of double-hung windows into the leaves of trees shading a street that was (in 1905) once a part of Seattle's growing suburbs. Now of course, suburbanites think that I live in "the city", but these ordered rows of Comfortable Homes don't match the popular image of a "city" at all. There are several households on my block with pre-school children, so in these summer months there are often tricycles swooping up and down the sidewalks, dogs playing with balls, and the occasional wails of a toddler who has just discovered some new frustration or suffered a playtime accident. The room is cluttered with books and papers, which seem to multiply faster than the resources intended to deal with them. I struggle without success with the physical as well as intellectual consequences of scattered interests, multiple income sources and incomplete filing systems. There are two computers on my desk, two monitors blinking quietly. I keep the printer turned off most of the time because the noise of its fan is just loud enough to leave me frazzled and drained at the end of the day. Since this is my own office, in my own home, I don't have to put up with flourescent lights, ugly enough in themselves and so prone to that annoying almost inaudible hum of a failing transformer. One of the computers is my household machine, with personal correspondence, accounting software, and truly inexplicable collections of files about things that have caught my eye. It is the one I use for contacting the 'net, including writing this note, and maintaining the nonprofits FAQ (at http://www.eskimo.com/~pbarber ). The other computer is the business computer. It holds my work calendar, works in progress for my various employers and clients, and the files and contact lists that seem useful, or potentially useful, to address the challenges of keeping busy with remunerative and otherwise worthwhile projects. Directly ahead of me, over the monitors, is a large 30s-era poster for the French National Railways, in superb art deco style, with the headline "exactitude." An earnest mecanicien in a blue workshirt with his goggles pushed up over his forehead looks straight ahead (at me?) as he leans out the window of the locomotive while waiting for the signal to get underway. I find it alternately ironic and inspiring as a decoration for this scattered workplace. Putnam Barber Seattle -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 23 Aug 1996 13:23:06 -0600 From: "Maia Engeli" ... I see a keyboard a computer screen. A number of windows are open for email, surfing and editing. I have four workspaces defined on my SGI Indy workstation. The black background is for tasks that deal with information gathering and exchange. The dark blue background is for programming, the orange one for help from the computer, and the black and blue scattered one for giving demos. My desk is huge and there are many piles of papers. There is also a sophisticated phone which always shows the number and sometimes even the name of the caller. I love it. Instead of 'Hello' I can answer it by saying 'Hi David, did you have a nice weekend?'. In front of my desk is an abandoned desk. There is only a cheap phone and five books on that desk. The top one is about fractals and chaos. On my left I can look outside into the green and the clouds. Important things in the office are a real blackboard, some bookshelves, a conference table, and a walk-man with loudspeakers. I like to listen to Techno music when I have to do quick-and-dirty programming. Maia Engeli -- ___________________________________________________________________ prof. maia engeli . engeli@arch.ethz.ch . http://caad.arch.ethz.ch/ architecture & caad . swiss federal institute of technology ___________________________________________________________________ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 23 Aug 1996 13:24:05 -0600 From: s-star1@uiuc.edu (Susan Leigh Star) Today I'm sitting in my dining room with my elbows propped up on my wheelchair so I can reach the keyboard of my power mac. The dining room table has a crossbar that interferes with the foot of the wheelchair (which is supposed to be elevated), so I have to keep wiggling around to find a comfortable angle. I broke my ankle while hiking two weeks ago, on vacation in New Mexico, and I've had a series of computer-related adventures ever since. I used a powerbook from a rented accomodation in NM, while waiting for a new cast, to let my class know they'd be working on their own once I got back to Illinois, and to arrange for a handicapped sticker for my car on return. I have a good modem and PPP connection here, and just purchased a new portable phone so I can call out from anywhere. But this morning the system backfired -- incoming calls ring over from the main line when I'm logged on, and the phone to the second line was in another room where the door is too small to admit the wheelchair. So I don't know who was trying to telephone. The floor here is wooden, in this old 1920s vintage Midwestern house, and the wheelchair rolls across it without friction. I almost knocked over the terminal just now, in fact, as I haven't yet gotten the coordination to stop smoothly. The room is hung with green plants, and at this time of the year, my backyard and sidewalks are dense living green, abuzz with insect life. We have air conditioning so I feel lucky to be able to observe it without fully experiencing it. My working space is still chaotic -- mostly I lack "bins" where I can put things to be filed, to be photocopied, and to be read. The injury limits my scope of reach when sitting to about 2 feet around me, and so the sorting takes place little by little, one paper at a time. I'm currently waiting for a friend to bring big envelopes to put things in, and to bring the paper mail. Ironically, I just got an ergonomic desk at work, where I won't be able to go for several weeks. Wheelchairs and dining room tables are not too comfortable for long sessions; powerbooks on pillows even less so. --Leigh Star *************************************** Susan Leigh Star Graduate School of Library and Information Science University of Illinois 123 LIS Building 501 East Daniel St. Champaign, IL 61820 Phone: (217) 244-3280 FAX: (217) 244-3302 email: s-star1@uiuc.edu "Formalisation is not itself a formal activity." -- Joseph Goguen, "Requirements Engineering as the Reconciliation of Social and Technical Issues" (1993) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 24 Aug 1996 10:32:11 +0900 (JST) From: Larry Cisar Where I sit depends upon whether I am at home working or at work not working -- being an educator lets you get away with a lot. At home, the computer desk is surrounded by papers that I am working on usually connected to the Japan Association For Language Teaching. Also there are disks all over the place -- a total chaos where I can find most things quickly. At work, the desk is large but there is the same type of clutter with cassette tapes for classes replacing many of the computer disks. In case you are wondering (and even if you aren't), I am very kinesthetically oriented so each piece of clutter must be in it proper place by feeling and not by sight -- my wife hates it. Enough for now. Take care. Peace, Larry Cisar You can win or lose, Kanto Gakuen University But losing is winning ljc@gol.com or ljc@kangaku-u.ac.jp Office: 0276-32-7828 Home: 0489-77-5719 Fax: 0276-31-2708 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Aug 1996 22:31 AEST From: John DAlton Techno blasts through my ears as I type this paragraph at 10.30pm. The headphones pump the CD from my computer into my ears while the screen pumps white text on blue background into my corneas. My back aches, my mind flies. I sit at a self-made 12 foot wide and 7 foot high semi-circular "console", surrounded by all the things I most use at arms length- disk boxes, CD stack (audio and data), cassette player and amplifier, unix terminal, pc and screen, telephone, TV, books, 2 drawer filing cabinet, pens, and a mess of papers. All I need is more switches and LEDS for a satellite uplink display! This saves me moving far, and impresses all the StarTrek fans. Half-finished projects lie behind me scattered on tables and the floor- a sound controller box, another 3 half-rebuilt PCs, a dead laptop, another amplifier and speakers, and half-read computer magazines. I'm also working on some VRML stuff, reading Community Memory postings, loading more games for my 2 kids to play (8 and 3 years old), and sending e-mails to hassle govt. bureaucrats who've forgotten they're *public* **servants**! John D'Alton jdalton@peg.apc.org Innovisions Consulting -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 28 Aug 1996 10:40:38 -0300 From: oco81945@ac.dal.ca (John Howard Oxley) My computer room/office is a 7 x 10' converted corner of the basement, roughly finished in plaster and plywood with an old worn carpet of startling hue nailed to the floor, pale green walls and some form of fake wood panelling around three of the four walls. It is dominated by a 20" screen, fixed to a wall mount, in front of which is a moveable white chipboard typing table with an extension arm, and to the right a large computer hut with peripherals, books, manuals, and piles of paper -- piles of paper everywhere for work-related and hobby- related projects, with dozens of the latter mouldering in various states of incompletion. The workspace is untidy and cluttered, but not dirty (I don't eat at the machine, and apart from imbibing a fine brandy douring late evening recreational Netsurfing, I don't drink at it either). The room is cramped and cozy, with just enough room for one, a large expensive ergonomic chair rendered necessary by several years' suffering through RSI, a bigh grey legal filing cabinet, and a printer stand. There are two windows, covered in yellow curtains; they are nailed shut and covered in plastic in a futile attempt to cut down the ravages of the winter wind. What few wall surfaces not covered in shelves [containing computer books, military books, hundreds of floppies and CD-roms in cases, repair kits, office supplies, and odd bits of metal whose purposes one were known but now forgotten] have posters and maps, most with a military/naval/aviation theme. During the day, the predomiant sound is the humrush of equipment fans, broken by the occasional blurt from the printer or the modem;s happy trill; during the night, there is a clock radio tuned low to a pop rock station [odd -- when I'm "working" on a weekday, I don't want the radio on, but if it is "after hours" or a weekend, even though I am working on exactly the same work, I like to have the radio on as background noise]. The room is cluttered and snaked with wires to equipment, to the outside world, and to the secondary system located upstairs directly over my head. I spend more of my waking hours in this room than any other in my house. I sometimes look at ways of changing things around to relieve the crush, but usually only act on this every 18 months or so. John Howard Oxley -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 28 Aug 1996 17:15:30 -0700 (PDT) From: bfly@scn.org (Brian Foley) Everytime I sit somewhere to visit the Internet it is in a different place. You see, I have an e-mail account, but I don't own a computer *yet*, so I use computers at the library most of the time and at work some of the time to access my account on the Seattle Community Network. The library system is a good way to access the net. I have a few favorite terminals, depending on which branch I'm visiting, which either are hooked up to printers or have a good view of the reference stacks. The monitors come with two colors, green or amber. I've accessed the net at work on pc's with full color monitors and optional palettes, but I think I prefer the dumb terminals at the library just a little bit better. I don't know why that is. No reason I guess.... Brian Foley bfly@scn.org Aug. 28, 1996 -- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "It is good to know the truth, but it is better to speak of palm trees" - Arabic proverb -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 29 Aug 96 1:57:24 BST From: EHollands@banyan.com It's cold today where I sit. It's normally one or the other, hot or cold, never just right. It's the power of air-conditioning in this office. Someone has to make the leap and turn it on at the start of the day, but once morning enthusiasm has waned, the distance to the switch seems to grow and the air-conditioning 'chunters' to itself all day. Somedays the noise and activity is feverish, but today the office is eerie and quite. I can just hear Oasis "wonderwall" at the very limit of my hearing, one of my team thoughtfully turning down his radio, unintentionally turning background music into occasional squeaks and muffled thuds. "I always like these quite moments before the storm". Ed ______________________________ >From the BeyondMail Desktop of Edward Hollands EMEA Messaging Support Supervisor. Tel: +44 (0)1293 612284 extn:248 http://www.switchboard.com http://www.banyan.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 29 Aug 1996 12:05:46 -0700 From: Paul Hoffman For the past three years, I've been working at home. I took the master bedroom of my house and turned it into a reasonable-sized workspace. The nicest part about this setup is that the room faces out to the garden. All I need to do is glance up from my screen and there are trees, flowers, and (if I stand up and walk about two steps) the goldfish pond. Even without looking into the garden, I can find a bit of peace by looking over the top of my monitor at the batik wallhanging of a meditator. --Paul Hoffman -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 31 Aug 1996 22:37:52 PDT From: dylan mcnamee I split my computer time between my Macintosh at home and an X terminal at school. I have a wrist-rest for both keyboards, one is a foam thing, the other is a buckwheat hull-filled keyboard-length pillow. I am surprised how uncomfortable I find typing without these things now. The other thing in common between them is that I have remapped both keyboards to use the Dvorak mapping. I understand there is a bit of a controversy about whether this mapping makes typists faster or not. Regardless, I think there is _no_ controversy about whether it makes typing more comfortable. To me, the difference is more significant than almost any other ergonomic adjustment I have tried. With so many folks' problems with RSI, I think the Dvorak keymapping could finally catch on. (plus, it's free, and I found that when I relearned to type, I did it _right_ the second time.) Another key aspect to long-term workplace comfort for me is to have music playing. I like lots of music, including some that isn't particularly comfortable to work to (my officemates point this out from time to time) so when I find something that I can work productively to, sometimes I'll play it with "heavy rotation." Michael Brook's "Cobalt Blue", Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue", Andean music by Inkuyo, and the last two CDs by Everything but the Girl have been in my heavy rotation lately. I have found it really helpful to keep a supply of water close-by. If I'm working efficiently, I often forget to drink water until I get really thirsty. I've read that by the time you are thirsty, dehydration is already setting in. Since I started drinking water at my desk regularly, I feel "better" than before. (How's that for crummy anecdotal evidence...) Finally, I have to thank my ever-engaging officemates (when I'm at school) and my ever-engaging wife (when I am working at home) for regular, yet not too frequent, distractions. Stopping work every half an hour or so for a couple minutes to talk about the latest news story, garden observation or movie commentary has managed to keep my 30-year-old eyes from needing glasses, even though I've spent about half of that time actively using computers. Right now, I'm at home, taking a break from writing my thesis. Neil Young's soundtrack to "Dead Man" is playing in the living room, and my upstairs neighbors visiting youngster is chasing a thumping ball throughout their apartment. dylan -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 1 Sep 1996 01:56:11 -0400 From: HeriotKS@aol.com Where I sit at work is pretty much a Dilbert-like cube. The only unusual thing is the view from my window. It overlooks a large gas station on Las Vegas Blvd so when I rest my eyes, I look out on the tourists getting gas--rich ones in Mercedes--poor ones that have just finished bathing in the service station sink. It also gets pretty interesting when the Harley Motorcycle and Greatful Dead people come to town--a refreshing break from corporate accounting. My home computer environment is much more refined. I have a home office complete with computer & desk, bookcases, a worktable. I've recently created a space on the floor to do yoga when I need to take a break from computing. Generally I play classical or Hearts of Space type music when I'm in here. Often one of my cats joins me and sleeps near the printer...and I have pictures of horses on the walls--some of them I raised. Kind of a cluttered but comfortable environment. -Kathy -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 1 Sep 1996 08:45:19 -0700 (PDT) From: Laura Goostree This is kind of sneaking in under the wire (I hope). I have been meaning to write this ever since you posted the project to RRE, but of course, kept not having time and kept putting it off. I do most of my internet access computing at my kitchen table. I have a notebook computer, so sometime I sit on my couch to read e-mail, but my main place for being online is sitting in the kitchen. The low-tech, homey aspect of that mirrors my internet usage, which is pretty much confined to e-mail, because I prefer it that way. There are times when I go looking for stuff on the Web, but mainly I like to read the stuff that I get in the mail. Occasionally I do the dishes or fix a meal while I'm online. My chair is one of those folding metal ones, which isn't the greatest ergonomically, but replacing it hasn't been one of my priorities. My dogs come and watch me when I'm online, generally making eyes because they want to be petted or want to be fed (or both). I just stopped to say "Hi there" to Ruby right now. She expects to be acknowledged when she comes over. I am surrounded by kitchen stuff, of course. The remains of breakfast are on the table right now (Ritz crackers and peanut butter) along with a stack of magazines (The New Yorker, The Nation, Forbes ASAP, Wired, The Chronical of Philanthropy) and papers and a couple of books (_The Complete Novels of Jane Austen_ and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_). Box of tissues and antihistamines. The kitchen table is always the place that I pile up stuff just because I have nowhere else to put it, and because I tell myself that I want to look at it, I just don't have time right now. It's kind of like my e-mail inbox in that respect. The house I'm living in right now was built in 1890 and the first floor has settled in such a way the the kitchen is on a little slope. Sometimes when my dogs sit on the linoleum, they keep sliding. As I look around, I can see that I really need to vacuum. I live across the street from a small Catholic church and right now I can hear the organ music for the end of the service (it's Sunday morning). There is some noise from car doors and people talking, but that will quiet down pretty soon. It is such a pretty little church that many weddings are held there. My favorite so far this summer was the one that had a bagpiper play after the wedding. It was surprisingly loud and wonderful. At the beginning of summer I moved up here into the boonies from a loud and crowded city. I can't get over how quiet it is. The main noise comes from the crickets and cicadas, chirping and buzzing away. Every once in a while one of my dogs will bark her head off at who knows what, practically scaring the wits out of me each time. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Laura Goostree "Slipping into madness is good for the Internet: laura1@netcom.com sake of comparison." CompuServe: 74353,2037 Jenny Holzer @ http://www.adaweb.com/ =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 1 Sep 1996 12:05:17 -0700 From: mnasstro@orednet.org (Mark C. Nasstrom) In the Green Building, deep within the dunes and scrub pines I Sit. Bathed by EGA/VGA, the hum of PC's combine with the sound of the surf, mixed with the occasional crackle of pyrotechnics and folks camping, a reminder that The World has come to visit on this holiday weekend. If they only knew of the depravity that goes on within a hundred feet of their campsite; ancient machines, gutless wonders, stripped by power screwdriver, and now Just Parts. Stepping outside, the sounds of Happy Campers mingle with the smoke of my Corona Maduro and their campfires. Tomorrow, Gridlock 101. -- *> #03 Seaview * Illegitimi non Carborundum * )( *> The Lumberyard BBS <* *>Hardwired On The Edge of North America @ YACHATS 541.547.4605 OREGON <* **> BBS Ops Manager: Oregon Coast Rural Information Service Cooperative <** -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 1 Sep 1996 23:25:15 -0800 From: kegill@enetdigest.com (Kathy E. Gill) I sit at my Mac 7500, looking out onto my garden from the second floor of my townhouse in suburban Seattle. It's sunny today, although cool for August, and the sunlight filters through the trees. I placed the system here, where I could look out the window, for the feeling of serenity it brings. And I need all the serenity I can get! I'm 'unemployed' at the moment and taking contract jobs while (as a volunteer) I maintain a web site for a dear friend running for the Republican nomination for Governor of the grand ole state of Washington (primary is 17 September). Each Sunday I publish a newsletter reviewing environmental/agricultural/natural resources related web resources. Usually, the newsletter pushes me past the midnight hour, but I finish with a great feeling of accomplishment. As a communicator and political junkie, I am fascinated with this new medium and intrigued by its possiblities. I'm excited to be in on the beginnings of a societal change at least as profound as the advent of the printing press. =============================== Kathy E. Gill, publisher http://www.enetdigest.com/ http://www.halcyon.com/kegill/mac/ Change is inevitable. Growth is optional. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 2 Sep 1996 15:03:28 -0000 From: Robert Bogue A cold, white metal rack holds the object of my focus, a 17" monitor which invariably has half a dozen or so windows open. My eyes drift up, slowly, to the stereo and TV above it. I never realized that CNN Headline News could be so boring after spending two hours on the internet only half listening to the stories. A quick look to the left reveals a CD player and two modems, one of which is blinking away. To the far right I see three VCRs (designed to help with some video projects, but they never seem to get used.) Three 4" video monitors sit there too. Going even higher I see a poor printer pirched so high that it can only be reached by standing up. My eyes strain to see through the paper to make out the last thing printed, but not yet removed. My eyes settle down to the desktop level to the other 17" monitor with only two windows open. Another project started and not yet finished... My eyes get fuzzy as I remember that bedtime was many hours ago. Robert Bogue Indianapolis, IN -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 3 Sep 1996 03:53:17 -0500 (CDT) From: "Galen H. DeBord" I don't know if thisis the proper response mode to use but I was intriqued by the responses you recieved about the workspace. I have a desk from a charity thrift store originating from the government surplus which provides drawers, desktop space barely capable of holding the mini-tower, monitor and keyboard, lamp and two phones. I work late at night with an old dog and my live-in girlfriend snoring peacefully behind me. I have fifteen borrowed crates in a U-shaped library for books and a entertainment center converted into the other side of my desk arrangement. I look out a window from a second story bedroom always conscious of sirens and flashing lights. I work as a head resident and security coordinator and often (daily) deal with emergencies. I use a black and white Unix based library connection in a Windows communications terminal which seems incongruous in the dark on the same screen. The only time I am working and not dealing with 130 apartments occupied by mentally and physicaly disabled elderly and disfunctional people is this time of night. It is 3:41 AM. It is my time to lurk on newsgroups and web pages and BBS systems in peace and quiet. I work in semi-darkness while my roommate snores listening to a background TV in the living room. I worry about hearing gunshots and dealing with predatory people more than I do radiation and the relative brightness of the monitor compared to the background gives me a focal point for my thoughts beyond a HUD highrise. I know that I make a difference and it will be a better place when I leave but the window in the background and monitor glare allows me to escape long enough to put the surroundings and the efforts under construction in perspective. It will be a better place to live and it is already after three years but I will not do it alone or without effort. Galen Hugh DeBord (Windwalker) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 4 Sep 1996 01:08:02 -0400 From: Thad Starner Where I compute: I've given up on getting real work done in the lab. Only thing I can really do there is teach and exchange ideas. Whenever I want to concentrate, I go find a tree outside, go for a walk, work at home, or go to the beach. There is a non-negligible chance of seeing me walking through Boston compiling code during the afternoons. Most of my writing and e-mail gets done away from the lab these days. I use one of our standard wearable computers and a digital cellular modem. Generally wear a dorky Motorola baseball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes because my cool black one got taken over by the cat who sheds quite nicely. When I actually need the high end machines, I work in a large open lab area, with lots of other grad and undergrad students. Always noise and chaos except in the early morning. Thad Starner MIT Media Laboratory -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 4 Sep 1996 17:24:18 +0200 From: "Richard Ramsden" My usual computer interaction is very much out-of-body. This is strange because arriving at my first place of work and finding the computer on my desk just felt 'right'. It really felt as if this meant I was doing the right kind of work for me. About fifteen years ago when I first started working on computers I noticed how difficult it can be to switch attention from the computer task to, say, the telephone or an individual entering the room. I had not noticed this difficulty with other kinds of work, perhaps because these other kinds are usually more 'ambiant'. When I read or write paper I tend to look up and around with more awareness of my surroundings. The computer sucks me in to a greater degree, and I have to be quite conscious about extracting my attention when I need to switch it. Pity the poor interloper, who then has to read the symptoms of this anti-social disease. Having migrated at some time to one of these do-it-all notebook computers has not helped. I set up anywhere and everywhere. I plug into the internet, read my mail, and become a social anathema. The body crouches over the minuscule keyboard, the mind calculating how to fit two good hands of fingers over the keypad. The temporary space one occupies is under constant threat of being reclaimed. The ears deafen to the sounds of passers-by muttering 'yuppie' under their collective breaths. I have little choice over my surroundings, mostly either modes of transport or remote and strange offices. When I get home I always try to reclaim my individuality through setting up in the sitting-room, and through putting on music particular to my tastes while I work. At the end of the session there is the satisfaction that one has managed to harness technology to one's bidding. That one has accomplished something through re-arranging an infinite number of abstract and remote electrons. What then becomes the lone identity of the computer user: the tool user, the cognoscente, the accomplished? Or perhaps the oddball, the poser, the dilettante? After Descartes I see this identity as divided between the lonely and deprived body, bent and tortured to a remote will. Are computer users disembodied and partially sketched-out human beings? Not in the abstract, we are aware of ourselves as deeper human beings. Are they such in corporeal being? Most definitely yes. Until we treat our bodies as meaningful elements of our existence, until we reclaim the ambience of our situations, we are unlikely to produce more than ephemeral mental abstractions of our internet co-selves and correspondents. Richard Ramsden email: ramsdenr@cssa.org.za Voice: +27 21 790-4917 Cell: 082-9005729 SMail: 11 Plumtree Avenue, Hout Bay, 7800, South Africa -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 4 Sep 96 15:18:56 IDT From: chasidot@pobox.com On a clear day, I can see Jordan. Or Moav, as it used to be known, home of Ruth, greatgrandmother of King David and a heroine hereabouts. On dusty days, I can see a few klics into the Judean Desert, just as stark & beautiful a sight as any desert, anywhere. To the right of my only window is a lovely & colorful oil painting of Montmartre, Paris, which my father purchased during a summer driving vacation of Europe and which I can recall his bargaining down from $85 to $15 - it was 1964, after all, and he was a returning veteran of Omaha Beach, not some run-of-the-mill tourist. The room also includes a free-standing wooden wardrobe, as apartments in Israel generally come without benefit of what we think of as closets. It's a sturdy plywood monster, and my oldest did a lovely job painting a dinosaur and palm tree scene on it's four doors that is more reminiscent of Curious George than Steven Spielberg. Then there is a wall of bookshelves; the upper tiers are for the spiritual (holidays, holocaust, hassidism, hebrew, and a few topics that don't begin with the letter "h") and the lower for the computer (DOS 4.01 & QuickBasic, no kidding, as well as Inside NT and the specs for a satellite transmitted datafeed I support "from home in my spare time"). I can hear the whir of the fans which push'n'pull cold air from my over-cooled living room and, were the window open, I could hear the leaves rustling as one of my neighborhood birds nibbles at my grapes. -30- Michael {Storch & Storch Ltd} New Tel (+).972.2.583.2511 New Fax (+).972.2.583.2512 If an infinite number of monkeys were to surf with an infinite number of web browsers for an infinite amount of time, one of them would click on King Lear. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 3 Sep 1996 12:21:02 -0600 From: jgrant@bookzen.com (jo grant) Thought the idea for *Where I Sit* fascinating, (as I do your list) but as I ponder where I sit here in my home office--a room that defines chaos, with a backlog of work in a pile that defies gravity, with days too short, and children home from college and too-quickly the time-consuming sadness and relief of their leaving, with winter around the corner and storms to be cleaned, scraped, painted and patched with putty, with two shelves of books to review and boxes of review books that may never get read, with movies that do not get seen, a film treatment that is not getting the attention it deserves, with published material that is an embarrassment demanding a rewrite, with the summer almost gone and the canoe not yet in the water, I sit here wondering if it's too late to be included in the very readable submissions. Located an a quiet street in Madison the windows of my office face South West, or almost. Located on an isthmus angled SW to NE determining the direction one is facing is not an easy task--particularly for the disoriented. Where I sit is in a modest stone cottage, in a low-ceilinged upstairs room with a 4' X 8' X 3" solid core door resting on two filing cabinets where my scanner, laser printer, Radius 81/110, Quadra 660AV, monitor, modem, phones, and radio are surrounded by the clutter of pages torn from months of newspapers and opened mail waiting for a final look before being thrown. Looking down at me are pictures of: my daughter Charity at age nine with 83 year old Meridel LeSueur; poet Chuck Miller leaning against the wall of his home-made shack just outside of Iowa City, Tom Kuncl's Great Aunt Mary Cernak taken in Cedar Rapids many years ago, Nelson Algren, Aunt Helga, my mother Madga Christina and my partner these last, incredible 27 years. To my right are shelves of books to be reviewed, computer reference books and a few books I travel with: Yonandio by Tillie Olsen, The Dread Road by Meridel, all of Kerouac to choose from, Chuck Miller's eight books of poetry, both of Bob Kaufman's--stuff to live with. On the monitor in front of me is the form authors and publishers can use to add books to our Free Book Information library (FBI@bookzen.com--I couldn't resist it) an avocation that doesn't eat up too much of the meager SS check. I'm endlessly perplexed that so many writers do not understand what an annotation is or are simply unable to write one after they have written and published an interesting, readable book Where I sit it is quiet. I can not hear the doorbell, but when a UPS truck pulls up some noise comes through--setting the brakes, slammed door, something that alerts me. Whistles from trains approaching crossings linger in the soft, humid air. I have always lived close enough to railroads so that the memories of the freight I caught as the most convenient means to head West when I finished 10th grade back in 1946 Mpls is never tucked away completely. A Jerry Schurr serigraph with a bullet hole hangs on the wall to my left next to our two John Cord serigraphs Our cat sleeps on the sill of an open window. Where I sit today, with access to the Internet and the www--the underground "press" of the 90s--is very much like the small rooms of the underground press of the 60s and 70s. The few touching the many and being touched. Seeking greater equity for all people and old enough to be constantly awed by what I receive each day via the Internet. jgrant FBI@bookzen.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Here is the message to which everyone was responding: Date: Sun, 11 Aug 1996 08:05:23 -0700 (PDT) From: Phil Agre To: rre@weber.ucsd.edu Subject: The Next RRE Project: Where I Sit The Next RRE Project: Where I Sit As Internet users, we encounter other Internet users as disembodied, partially sketched-out human beings who only become perceptible to us through their typing. The result is a kind of vacuum into which we inevitably project all kinds of assumptions and expectations. What can be done about this? Let's try something simple. Send me a paragraph that describes your physical surroundings as you use your computer. I'll package up the contributions and send them back out to the list. Describe your surroundings however you like: enumerate the objects around you, recount the memories they bring to mind, talk about the light or the background noise, evoke the rhythms of your workday, tell us about the ten other things you're trying to get done at the same time, describe in detail how your body feels after thirteen hours of hacking, explain how you chose and arranged the furniture, write us a poem about using your computer, or whatever you like. Just a reminder how we do this. Send me your paragraph at pagre@ucsd.edu by September 1st. No anonymous contributions; they're too much trouble. I'll reserve the right to filter out inappropriate contributions, but you shouldn't worry that you're being held to arbitrary standards I haven't told you about. I'll also edit out long signatures and personal comments addressed to me. The file with all the messages will include a copyright notice that goes something like this: the messages in this file are copyright 1996 by their authors. This file may be distributed in electronic form, in its entirety only, to anyone for any noncommercial purpose. For all other purposes you must obtain permission from the message authors individually. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- end of file --------------------------------------------------------------------------