Actually, for me, it feels like, "I have an office, therefore I am." I mean, some 90% of my interaction with life takes place on my computer and associated devices, which are in my office.
When I was in Sentinel fandom in the early 2000s, I had one-time phone calls with a couple of fellow fans. Each one greeted me with, "So, Charlotte Frost really DOES exist." Like, they weren't really sure. I felt sort of perplexed, as to how to respond because... why would they question that? I participated in all sorts of online discussion lists and such, after all.
In old-time zine fandoms, it was easier to understand why one might question the real-life existence of a pen name. It became common, in the rush to get a new fanzine out for the next convention, that a few writers would fill up a fanzine with a dozen or more stories. Each story would have a unique byline, so it looked like a dozen writers had contributed stories to the fanzine, rather than three or four. Some zine publishers had too many pen names to keep track of, some had a few names where each was used for a particular type of story. I know one Kirk/Spock writer, with a few such pen names, made everyone laugh at a convention when she said, "My (insert name) byline would be appalled at some of the stories written by my (insert name) byline!"
In any case, the "do you really exist" thing feels like it's always been out there, and not just in fandom. As a child, I never participated in extracurricular activities at school, because I hated school to begin with. But in high school, I finally joined a creative writing group that was responsible for publishing a book of creative writing from the students in the spring. None of the kids in "the club" were ones I normally associated with. Our first meeting, we had to decide on a title for that year's book. So, the dozen or so of us all wrote down suggestions on scraps of paper, the teacher wrote them on the chalkboard, and voting took place that eventually narrowed down the selection to one. I had submitted, "In the Light of Darkness", and the teacher suggested shortening it to "Light of Darkness", and everyone agreed, and that was the title chosen. My idea was chosen! However, all these submittals and voting took place in casual anonymity. So, nobody knew it was my idea. What's more, after the title had been decided, nobody ever asked who's idea that was! I came up with a brilliant title and nobody cared to know who came up with it. Geez.
Yet, in situations where I'm getting plenty of attention, I often want to step back and blend in with the wall, because I'm feeling overexposed. However much I might like the idea of being the center of attention, the reality starts getting uncomfortable after a short period of time, because it doesn't feel natural. I'm accustomed to floating around in the background, where nobody knows I'm there. Obviously, that's been discomfiting in some situations but, over time, I've come to embrace it.
I have felt that one purpose of my writing was to say, "I was here." Now, I'm not worried about that. Since life is perpetual and ongoing, one lifetime matters enormously -- I suspect beyond the human ability to comprehend -- while simultaneously not mattering at all, because it's all going to keep going on, anyway. Whatever I do, I figure if it matters that someone interact with me, read what I wrote, etc., the universe will see that that all works out. I don't need to concern myself with trying to make it happen. So, I don't need to raise my hand, jumping up and down, "I'm here! I'm here! I'm here! Please see me."
Back to the office. It has carpeting that is the same 13 years of age as the enormously heavy desk with all its appendages, which is the same age as the house. One day, when replacing the carpet becomes important enough, I'll probably have to pay somebody a few hundred dollars to haul off the desk. It's really become rather obsolete, because I have so few notebooks and paper now, since most business -- to say nothing of my writing -- is done through the internet. All those boxes in front of the desk are from one long-time client who, while using the internet liberally, is very set in his ways about certain things, so has all his bills and statements come to him in the postal mail. That creates a lot of paper for me to sort through.
My computer is sitting on one of the Varidesks, that I've had for about a year. The idea is to stand up while working, which I enjoyed doing for certain periods of time. Yet, somewhere along the line, I got back into the habit of sitting continuously -- to the point where I've forgotten that standing is the whole point of the Varidesk. I get reminded when I sometimes see the commercials on TV. "Oh, right, I can stand up when I work. I will the next time I'm in the mood." And then I forget.
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