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©03 The Media Desk

      Well. The Desk wasn't ready for it in any sense of the word. And really, it isn't what one friend of the Desk thinks it is either.

      It is simple infatuation. A 'Schoolboy Crush'. A fanciful daydream and wild hopes and ... well...

      For ages now the Desk has been through what was recently described as an Unbelievable Industrial Strength Nightmare.

      At Cedar Point amusement park in Ohio they have the World's Tallest, Fastest, Steepest, Mostest, etc, roller coaster. The Top Thrill Dragster. Over four hundred feet tall, over one hundred miles per hour, and what's better, while you are plummeting straight down on the thing, you do a barrel roll at 120 MPH.
      But the Desk has already been there, done that, in fact, did a double barrel roll in the tuck (if not fetal) position.
      For at least six or eight months straight through the spring of this year, not even counting the over Three Years prior to that.

      Everybody has been saying that the Desk needed to take that first step back to getting its life back together. To move on.
      There was a list.

      Study something: Well it is. Currently in production is a PhD Thesis on Metaphysics. Is that enough studying for you?

      DO Something: Well. Besides working way too damned much. It is going to Shoreleave this weekend. Then a day trip to Atlantic City. And maybe a weekend camping down at the beach in The THING.

      Talk about it: The Desk Doesn't talk much. But it does write. So it wrote. There's a new novelette in The Hunter Series. The Thesis. A new political piece. And so on. (and this)

      Get a fresh start, try to move on: Things are moving. Sideways. Three forward and two and three quarters back. But moving.

      And Meet Somebody: It met somebody.

      Why then all of the sudden are some saying that it is too soon and too... just too too?

      Besides. There is absolutely no indication that the young lady in question even sees the Desk as more than that ugly drunken half-crippled OLD ex-sportswriter it has on its letterhead.

      But it will admit going in that Rhiannon (you don't think the Desk would use a real name here did you?) is extremely special person. Period. Whatever else there is there. She is that. And if nothing else is there, it is developing into a nice warm friendship.

WARNING: Musical Interlude. and it is not The Who.

Rhiannon rings like a bell thru the night
and wouldn't you love to love her?
she rules her life like a bird in flight
and who will be her lover?
all your life you've never seen
a woman, taken by the wind
would you stay if she promised you heaven?
will you ever win...?

Artist: Fleetwood Mac. Album: Fleetwood Mac. 1975

      Does she have any clue as to the affect she has had on the Desk? Undoubtedly, she is not that stupid. The Desk is. But she isn't.

      But it has been good for the Desk all the same. For the first time since The Day Hope Died when we all got that terrible news last fall, the Desk can see a light at the end of the tunnel that isn't an oncoming train.
      She is somebody totally new in the Desk's circle so there isn't a ton of emotional baggage and that pity/sympathy/compassion barrage that makes the Desk almost physically ill. There is no old memories to deal with when something comes up.

      What is she like? Well. How's this.
      The Desk is old, ugly, fat, crippled, stupid, lazy, cynical... well, that'll do. You get the idea.
      Rhiannon. Isn't.

"What's the prince like?"
      "Well, he's tall, dark, and handsome, he's very religious, and he's very intelligent."
"Sounds wonderful, what's your friend Dale like?"
      "Well, he's the exact opposite."

            From A Tale of Two Dorms by The Media Desk

      That's the idea.

      If opposites attract then you might need the fire company's Jaws of Life to pry us apart. But, in this case, we are probably TOO opposite.
      Besides. And the Desk will not presume to speak for her. But it is not ready for anything except maybe that friendship mentioned earlier.

      Let the rumors fly as they will. The Desk has promised not to kill anybody that says anything stupid.

No Guns
      No Knives
            NO KILLINGS
Wyatt Earp to Doc Holliday, Gunfight at the OK Corral
[Sign over the Desk's Day Job desk.]

      Besides. The Desk has no standards that it knows of. But Rhiannon, true to her goddess namesake, will probably find an older man repugnant and choose a prince.


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