What Does Your Cube Say About You?

According to this fascinating article from MSN, there is a great deal you can tell about a person from their cubicle (I'll reserve judgement on the sad state of the American workplace and just take it all in at face value). Does your cube say, "That you're a bland corporate drone with no interests outside of work? That your mind is as cluttered as your desktop?" Or does it say, as it does for a certain Marcia Davis, that your obsession is cows?

This got me to thinking: what can one tell about me from the space in which I am confined for up to eight hours a day? Let's take a brief tour:
The two nods to what might be referred to as "art," a Hopper calendar and a velvet painting of a deer, indicate that I am a snob but fancy myself a hipster. The CDs sitting atop George Bush's face on the (unread) November 15, 2004 Newsweek demonstrate both my impeccable indie-rock cred (Elliott Smith, Decemberists, White Stripes, Simon and Garfunkel) and my utter inability to process any more political news.

The instructions for various filing procedures and computer programs pinned to the walls are evidence of my amazing technical prowess, while the scattered office supplies (pens of all colors, clans of Post-It Notes, staple removers and to-do listed legal pads) clearly show how my organizational skills equal success. Piles of papers and battlements of document boxes fill the remaining space. There are also two empty 20 oz. Diet Coke bottles, evidence that caffeine addiction is harder to kick than heroin (How do I know this? How do you think I managed to kick the heroin?)

What does this all add up to? I'll leave that to any aspiring Freuds in the audience. But for what it's worth, it says to me that I'd rather be elsewhere.