from where i'm sitting

i got up as early as i could this morning to continue work on the sketches i assigned to myself at the last sketch writer's meeting, and from where i'm sitting everything looks good except for the eyesore of a green desk that's directly in front of me.

a part of me wants to use said desk as a metaphor for my life. you know, chipped paint with good wood underneath...or something like that. but really, looking at it causes some mild internal conflict. there's nothing wrong with the desk except for the outside so why bother working on it, right? it still fits just perfectly in my room and holds all my important papers. but doesn't it deserve to look as good as it can, to be restored to it's original state or maybe something better?

it is my opinion that we all deserve to look and feel the best we can but at the same time i realize how vain of a statement that is. did you notice that the word "look" went before the word "feel"? i think it always goes that way. the next time you use the phrase, you'll see.

maybe i've just seen it too much, but this desk is really starting to feel very human. a straight back, puffed out chest, charmingly thin legs, and that obnoxious green paint with some of the wood peeking through like roots on a dye job gone wrong (or patches, whatever the case may be). the wood is good wood, a light-ish soothing brown and so...i will strip the paint away and find the perfect stain. something to enhance the wood, not cover it. and just so i don't seem too concerned with outward appearances, i'll stain the inside first.

it's going to be a project but it's worth it.
i think we all are.