My New Office

One of my New Year's resolutions was to set up my home office and file a DBA although I don’t know what business I have filing a DBA when I don’t know what business I’m actually in. So, on the day of another eclipse, I stare at the remaining few piles of paperwork, old rolodexes from other careers and literally hundreds of pens I’ve rubber banded together in an effort to “organize”. All of this littered on the office floor waiting for a file drawer to hide out in.

The room is not spacious and finding a desk that would make it conducive to writing, working, creating has been quite a challenge. My quest led to Ikea in which I found many other items I absolutely needed, but none that fit into my office. My college chum and co-contractor for Oak Grove, David Lebarron, suggested that we visit the lumber section of Home Depot where he sold me on an idea to cut a piece of plywood and somehow attach it to the wall. Then he left for Cambodia. Desperate, I consulted Simon, a salesperson whom I befriended at Crate & Barrel Pasadena after spending loads of money there when I was gainfully employed. He recommended his friend John, a rockabilly tattooed young man who has quit his job as a carpenter in the film industry to start his own business building furniture and outfitting Bad Ass Coffee Shops around the country.

After a lengthy email exchange, he came over to check out the room, bring some visuals and take measurements. The result was a beautiful corner desk, shelving, and a return with file drawers. The piece would be built out of burled aspen. I loved his portfolio and his infectious enthusiasm to “zen out my creative space”. One could actually call him a carpenter/retro-rocker/metrosexual. I was immediately attracted to him. However, as I’ve learned, these qualities come at a price. To customize my “zen palace” would cost me $4500.

I tried the dining room, the kitchen cutting board, even the comfort of my bed, which I still prefer above all else, but I quickly learned that working from my home is impossible when you have Pets With Problems. There seems to be an unwritten "No-Closed Door" policy and the cats will literally hurl themselves against closed doors until entrance is gained after which kneading, nudging, swatting and even head butting are the methods of getting attention. This neurotic behavior sets off the dog, her nails clickity clicking on the floors anxiously, finally finding her way into the room leading to hissing, crying, more swatting and a very annoyed human.

Even though I have a room of my own, I really don’t. I wonder if Virginia Wolfe has any advice on this subject.

I needed something that could act as an office and I needed to get out of the house. I set out to test the waters of several coffee shops around town. I can drink coffee practically anywhere, but settling in, actually claiming a chair for several hours at a time takes some research. Finally, thanks to Lebarron, I've hunkered down at a quirky joint in Atwater Village named Kaldi. I am strangely drawn to Kaldi and find myself having withdrawals when I’m away from it for more than two days. You can usually find me there every other late morning or late afternoon depending on what time I rolled out of bed. I’ve even begun to answer my cell phone “Kat’s New Office”. What is it about this place where snacks consist of Twinkies and Ho-Hos, there is no decaf and ice tea is a rarity. But today, I studied the new art installation and it came to me. It reminds me of the old Onyx Cafe in Los Feliz.

Unfortunately, the Onyx has since been transformed into a buttoned up French bistro owned by two Turkish brothers, but back in the day, in the early 90s, I spent hours writing in the smoking room at the Onyx. The space had unusual local art adorning the walls, most displaying death and mayhem in Los Angeles and was appropriately painted black. Kaldi is very similar with the exception that the baristas that work here are quite friendly, the walls are grey and smoking has been banned in public places since 1999. There are about five late twenty year olds who work two-hour shifts at a time, constantly tagging off as if in a relay race to keep the shop open for fourteen hours. James, the owner, is a connoisseur of coffee and is even attending coffee conventions in Seattle and Las Vegas. He is very knowledgeable about his corporate competition and can tell you why Starbucks coffee tastes burned. I've always thought so, but weakly gave over to my addiction. They serve exotic, 100 % organic tea as well with names like "White Peony", "Golden Emperor" the most rare being "Yunnah Golden Needle" priced at $4.75 a cup.

An informal “stitch and bitch” club meets here Thursday evenings and before I realized that it was a weekly event, I would look up and find myself surrounded by the lot of them, crowded in around the sofa and other club chairs. It is an unlikely group of various ages and I note that they are all seem to be knitting, croqueting or piecing together large, hulking sections of yarn all the while giving each other tips about keeping their mates in check. I learn a lot about this, and spontaneously find myself interjecting my opinion even though I don’t know how to keep a mate, let along keep one in check. I do knit, but I’ve decided not make Kaldi a Thursday night affair.

At the moment, two seniors have plopped down into my writing space. I have gathered from carelessly eavesdropping on their conversation (how can I help but not listen) that they are on a blind date. They are trying to find common ground. The man has been married three times and they have both seen “Fahrenheit 911”. Will there be a second date? I want to tell her that three marriages seem excessive, but then again, I never listen to my inner alarms, so who I am to intervene?

The greatest thing is the vinyl easy chairs, which I've claimed ownership over. Before ordering any java, I quickly spread my books, notes and amulets all over the coffee table to ward off other slackers. Wireless is free and plugging in is not a problem. This is very important if you spend the first part of your morning using up your battery power checking your emails and various horoscopes. I usually read about three different astrologers until I find the one that suits my mood. If you're really lucky, a local Indian man who works Glendale Boulevard and walks with a bodyguard will pop in to read five-minute fortunes. For someone who's future is unclear, this is a great perk to have hanging around the office. He's been scary accurate about my past, but I can't seem to get a clear prophecy about tomorrow, this summer or the rest of this year. I've promised to keep our exchange a secret, and since I'm very superstitious, this will be easy. It's definitely a good reason to continue coming back to Kaldi.