I love my job, for the past two weeks I've done nothing but answer strange ads and write columns and promote my business profile as a Cubicle Ninja. I'm not going to lie though, half of the time I don't even know what my job even is. Reaching out more to Keiko and doing my research, The Cubicle Ninja was a very unique newsletter of the arts revolving around San Francisco. When I say art, I mean anything and everything about the subject.

Each ninja, as our boss calls us, has their personal life blog as well a major in some craft that's connected in some way. Two sections down in the green cubicle were big Steve. We never really talked, but the word around the ninja vine is that he loves writing about gourmet cooking, exotic places to eat all while blogging his journey to weight loss. He loves to eat food and wants to be healthy, more power to him.

Another example would be Celine on the other side of me in the red cubicle. She's a tall, curvy, black woman with a great head of hair and dreams of nothing but fashion. Now, I'm not talking about walking the catwalk in Paris or the sexy streets of New York City. No, Celine supported the locals, plus sizes, and all the odd ladies of thrift stores. She even had her clothesline she's dying to showcase to the world. Beautiful styles and colors of Africa modernized for a sexy comfort that won't break your wallet.

I told her as long as the dresses, among other items, actually have pockets then consider me a buyer.

Other cubicles contained things from makeup, modeling, to robots and video games. Whatever the category you were looking for we probably had it. Still, that had me thinking about my blog. I knew I was going to promote various styles of painting and showcase canvas art, but what about my blog. Perhaps, I could post tips, make Do-It-Yourself videos, or maybe even test out poll materials.

Thinking about what my father said about never being able to make it got to me. I sighed and rubbed my face, giving my eyes a break for the screen. Everything I just listed could easily be accomplished by social media and youtube, so how was I gonna make MY blog pop. I honestly have no life worth writing about.

Suddenly Kim opened the door to his office and stepped out, Sporting a "Pinky! Get your ass in here!"

Yep, that was me. My hair color had made its reputation here and the Cubicle Ninja...in the best of ways. I was placed in the purple cubicle because my boss says it sets the hue off. Jokes on him, purple is my favorite color. A few eyes looked up from their screens in wonder but I knew what I was being called to the principals' office for. After all, I was the one who requested it. Still getting overwhelmed when walking into this office due to his bizarre behavior and complete random pranks, I did gain a once of confidence now that I knew his personality a bit more.

Casually checking my seat for a woopi cousin or an air horn, I adjusted my skirt down as I sit and directed my attention to me. His face remained completely deadpan as he waited.

"So you got robbed by daddy."

"In a matter of speaking, yes," I informed him. "I would like to be paid by checks instead of direct deposit now that my account has been closed...just until I find a new bank."

"This can be done," Kim chimed as he turned towards his laptop. "Another good option would be to talk to our Ninja assistant."

"Riley?"

"Yes, he has a wide background of finical bearings, banks, and whatnot." He rambled on, "Why he chose this job of all places is beyond me."

I took his advice to heart seeing that everything about Riley was very clean and professional and did seem odd that he was here of all places. Once I was finished securing the first half of my income I went next door to the assistants' office. This would be the very first time since working there that I would be going into Riley's private office.

Unfortunately, my timing couldn't have been worse as we bumped into each other turning the corner, his coffee colliding into my chest. Yep, that was hot. I almost screamed as the fresh brew splash against my breast, scolding them red.

"I'm so sorry Ms. Weber!" Riley quickly grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket. "I've been so daft today."

"No, no I should have watched where I was going?" I took a deep breath as I fanned my shirt away from my flesh. "I was just coming to see you, I had a question to ask."

"In here then, I'll get us cleaned up."

We both stumbled into his office like a bunch of embarrassed idiots. Closing the door behind him I noticed his blue button-up got soaked as well. I continued to attempt to soak up the spilled coffee with his handkerchief, the now cold coffee beginning to chill her.

With four long strides, he was on the other side of his office and opening a coat closet. Riley pulled out a duffel bag and unzipped it to reveal more clothes, the guy cam prepared for everything. A nice quality to have. He pulled out a thin beige colored sweater and handed it to me.

"It may be a little big, it's mine." he laughed nervously. "But it will keep you dry and covered until I can get your blouse dry-cleaned."

"Oh that's not necessary, I can just through it in a bag and wash it at home."

"None at all," Riley assured me, "It will be back to the office before your shift ends. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well," I exhaled. "I've hit a speed bump with my financial problems and I need a new bank to open an account at, a good secure one that doesn't let anyone have access without my full permission even they happen to be my own–dear god!"

I was too busy rambling and playing with the soft threads of his sweater that I didn't even look up to the situation at hand. With the closest door still open and his back turned to me Riley undid his tie and was pulling off his wet shirt just as he turned towards my view. Hello, salty goodness - mark two.

He was lean and quite fit with just enough muscle to make your legs weak. Not to mention he had the perfect V in his abs leading to his waistline. I honestly don't know the politically correct term for what that is, but it could make a woman's' ovaries explode.

Riley turned and our eyes met, my face probably flushing redder than the coffee on my chest. Looking down at himself he quickly corrected his mistake by spinning around and throwing his dry shirt over his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry!" He apologized. "This is...inappropriate and so unprofessional. I wasn't thinking clearly."

Neither was I after that. "It's okay it happens, trust me I'm doing all I can to not rip my shirt off as we speak...because of the coffee that is."

"Yes," he nodded in embarrassment, "It was hot."

"Very," I couldn't help but smile. "Very very hot."

Turning back around I was a bit disappointed to find him on his last button, but at least the imagination of me between him and his desk were still there. I cleared my throat and shamed myself of such dirty thoughts and tried to focus on what he was now saying. Riley had been speaking for five minutes and I didn't hear a single word.

"Here," he handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. This is the one I have an account with and is very trustworthy.

"Thank you," I told him. "And thank you so much for the sweater, I'll return it as soon as I can."

"It's not a problem at all, I apologize for launching my coffee at you."

"Feel free to launch on my me anytime."

My eyes widened for a brief moment. Did that just come out like I thought it did? I ended our awkward conversation and rushed to the nearest bathroom to change. It was a very comfy piece of clothing indeed, thin but snugly, warm but not enough to smother you. I may not give it back.

Back in the safety of my cubicle and completely dry of coffee I stared at my screen once more, after typing in a few more functions I couldn't get shirtless Riley out of my head, I felt like a giggly teenager and I hated that. I would never objectify a man like that but, yet I couldn't help but admire the wonderful creation of a man. I guess it's human nature after all.

At that moment the spark for my blog hit me. I was a young woman, leaving the nest late and learning the world on a stressful day at a time wanting nothing more to paint. The fact that I was thrown out for wanting to may was motivation enough and who knows it may just inspire another struggling soul.

Excitement hit and I began writing, becoming allured but the clicking sound of keys. I began to tell my story and express my feelings for what may be my biggest adventure yet.

Starting with the very day a door was slammed in my face.

Consider money matters fixed, and a personal blog about her journey through life as an artist has begun. Hope you guys are enjoying her journey so far!