The 100-Day Challenge: 1/100

A friend of mine at work recently read my last post on here and suggested I take up a 100-day writing challenge over the course of the summer.  As I've been feeling a bit blocked recently, creatively speaking, I took some time to think about this.  Today, during a particularly slow few hours at work, I decided to go for it.  As I've done 100-something creative exercises before, I've never actually committed to a writing challenge.  I used to write quite a bit back in the day and then at some point, I just stopped.  I'm not sure why; phases of life may have something to do with it, but it was always a past time that I enjoyed.  Maybe it's time to fire that back up, sans photography.

So, I'm using Qwiklit.com's 100-day writing challenge as a guide.  If you haven't used it, you can find each exercise here: https://qwiklit.com/  My first task reads as follows:

Day 1: Where are you? Your room? A hotel lobby? the top of a burning building? In the finest detail possible, describe everything you possibly can, from the sound to the smell to the temperature. Be extremely specific.  ...And, we're off.

Location, Location Location:

6th Floor Office, 1120 NW Couch St, Portland, OR, U.S.A, Earth.

I'm sitting on the left end of a couch. I decided to leave my desk earlier today and try out our new office space that we just acquired. I'm sitting now, as opposed to lounging as I was before. Due to a particularly vexed email from HR, my shoe-laded feet now rest firmly on the newly-finished cement floor. My dog Kino is resting on the floor to my right. His twitching foot and soft, punctuated whimpers tell me he's dreaming. He at least has the sense to keep his feet off the couch.

The newly-renovated, 5,000 sqft. environment is extremely open and sterile. The whiteboard walls create a vibe that could use a bit of color and personality, to be honest. The window to my left looks over Burnside, Old-Town and the northern end of Downtown Portland. The interior hills of NE are slightly obscured by a chilly drizzle. It feels like mid-fall.

In front of me is a rustic, wooden-block coffee table that intersects the space between the couch I've claimed and two leather chairs.  To my right is a large, conference table-sized work station surrounded by seven white, netted-back chairs.  They look somewhat comfortable.  Beyond that is the kitchen, which consists of an island and counter-top, sink and cupboard area recessed into the wall.  It looks clean and untouched.  Eight elegant white desk lamps stand proudly on the island, waiting to be placed among the workstations. Behind me are two arm chairs.

The workstation table to my right is one of four, each being separated by a divider-wall that holds a Plasma screen on one side and a whiteboard on the other. At the far end of the room is a glass-encased conference room that has yet to house a table, further driving home the feeling that this space is still a work-in-progress.

Beyond the kitchen to my right is a short hallway that branches off to three other team-designated areas.  In one of them, a presentation is being given to a client right now.  With the lack of rugs around us, their voices carry across the empty space. I can hear every word.  Privacy is not an option.

Above me, fluorescent lighting and paneled ceilings span the room, what I'm told is the result towards the high cost of exposing the ductwork and structure of the building. This is unfortunate, as the dropped ceilings take away from the creative energy the space needs.  I can't help but feel sadness here. The exposure would've united the transition between the old and new.  Here, I feel as if I'm within the confines of a completely different company.  Maybe, that's the point.

It smells new, yet at the same time...doesn't. It feels new, yet there are traces of Portland that help accent the design.  Minimal, but rustic.  Not cozy, but not uncomfortable either.  Warmth is non-existent.  Ideation is encouraged.  This is our new creative space.  This is AKQA.