ready for some action are you, danger boy? ready if i'm ready for you, danger boy...

i

am

bored.

after a couple weeks of total whirlwind manic action from hell, everything has suddenly ground to a shrieking standstill.

and, you see, this is bad, because when i have time on my hands, i do dangerous things like dwell. obsess, if you will. certainly question my own actions. question the actions of others, particularly the mysterious ones that don't come equipped with definite coordinates or contact points.

i hate it that i have no choice but to play hard to get.

anyway.

at least it was anarchy thursday here in the office. well, thursday morning, anyway. i sat down with the new girl and we had a righteous bitchfest about--what else?--boys. seems she's been righteously bitched up by someone very recently. so, i shared a couple of my stories, and we got it all up to fever pitch. the boys were chiming in and everything. young mister longacre took terrible glee in describing my continuous failure to stick to my "no more boys" resolution. i wiped that smile off his face, however, upon detailing the situation with the other person's roommate of yore. that actually shut everyone up for a minute, which is impressive for this office. now mister longacre understands the bitter and the great trepidation.

actually, he said something quite interesting...he commented on the fact that whenever he or his friends approach a woman at a bar in NYC, her first response is always one of total exasperation and distrust--kind of like "okay, what are you about? how long is it going to take you to fuck me over, and are you going to be enough fun in the meantime to make the agony worthwhile?" he was perplexed. he didn't understand why we've grown so jaded in this place. but, after a little time spent listening to me and newgirl trade war stories, i think he understands. we're wary because we get hurt so frequently, and so badly, and because as the females of the species, tend to take it a bit harder than most men. it's too bad that it has to be that way. is that how it is everywhere? am i ever going to feel like i can offer up my heart again? because right now, i'm terrified to show it to the world, to let it loose on the streets of this city. i'm guarding it like the most precious and fragile treasure in the world. because that's what it is to me. and, while the bandages are almost off, any more abuse could rip the stitches.

and that's why i'm so twitchy about the ghost. he has so much potential, he could be trustworthy. but, i don't want to give him anything if he's just going to stomp on it. because i'd rather keep it to myself than have to glue it back together again. and, dammit, i want to know NOW if i should be polishing it for presentation or locking it in a dark, climate-controlled room. i want a fucking answer, and none are forthcoming.

or maybe they are, maybe the answer has been had in silence and i'm too fucking stubborn and/or naively optimistic to read the signs.

or maybe i'm overreacting.

i just want to know. this is just like algebra class...i didn't generally care how i did on a test, i just wanted to know the score.

see? dwelling. obsessing. these are not good pursuits for little ninjas.