Interesting Washington Post article on how that collage of snapshots littering your office cubicle -- smiling, shiny happy photos of family/friends/pets/lovers -- actually represent what we don't have:

Because photos, inevitably, are lies. Or at least spin. When displayed, they are an attempt to project to the world -- or ourselves -- a certain image. Family photos testify to what we have, they also testify to what we don't. What we don't have, while we're working, is the very thing they display: the spontaneous moments, the golden unlimned hours. In keeping these snapshots at our desk we are like pets, really, that in their master's absence seek out his sweater to lie upon. Absent our family, the best we can do is bask in its representation, create the illusion that we can sense our kids, feel them, hear their laughter. Now, the office photo is an emblem not so much of achievement as of compromise, lurking worries, remembered joys, the crises we coped with this morning and the pleasures that await us at the end of the day.

I don't a cubicle with a view, nor do I go to an office at all. I do my work at home, and attend meetings which are the only times I actually get to sit in conference rooms and confer with bosses and/or other production people. Mostly I am solitary. I do my work at home, in my own messy room with its collage of posters and litter of books and magazines. Stuff which fill my life. I never wanted a nine to five job. Heck, I never used to worry so much about my job. Which brings me to think how we spend so much time worrying about work, and how it really is unnecessary. Sure, we need the benefits that we get from it -- security (or the illusion thereof. Nothing is ever sure or safe in this day and age. Ha.) But to let work take over your life. One can argue that when you enjoy your doing your job, it doesn't matter even if your whole life revolves around it.

But really, is work all there is to adult life? We tend to forget the little things that make life enjoyable. Lunches with friends, hanging out, having coffee, having actual conversations with people you care about, and you don't necessarily talk about work but how we're really doing. About the things that we care about.

But considering my little own private work hell last week, it only convinced me that A. People will always try to find fault with you. And while you convince yourself to take it as positive criticism. You want to believe they were made with your best intentions in mind. Then somebody reminds me that's how things in the business are. The real world isn't as nice as we would want it. But there's nothing to do but live in it. I am ranting. But I feel better now. I think I've kicked off the blues. Right, Mark?