Notes from the week
On Monday morning I awoke thinking, “Gee, I’d like to work on [project name]” And I did. For eight hours straight.
Same thing happened Tuesday, with a little break for writing the Restless in Rochester entry.
Wednesday and Thursday the same thing. I got more work done in four days this week than I have in the past four months.
Better still, I feel good (between the ears.) The sense of internal peace, serentity if you will, has returned. In fits and starts. But it’s something that’s been missing for seven months.
After the pain of early recovery, I settled into nicest couple of years I’ve ever had. It was noticable to everyone. I always had a leasant, happy smile and at the meetings they took to calling me “Zen-master Bruce.”
That wavered last winter, caught again in the spring then disappeared entirely in June. No amount of program work has been able to bring it back. Until this week. It’s gotta be the increased dosage of new meds.
Physically, I’ve enjoyed good health for quite some time. I didn’t even get my traditional between the holidays cold. Friday and Saturdasy, however, I’ve experienced the worst bout I can remember with the irritable bowel. It’s like someone stuffed an angry and fully-clawed tomcat up there. Or maybe the Tasmanian Devil.
I made it through work okay then, barely before I had my coat off when I got home, I popped two caps of the stuff I’m prescribed for it and a handful of painkillers. I’m not sure about the tomcat, but after a nap, I felt like purring.
As I began writing this last night, I could feel the sort of dull ache you get after working-out too hard at the gym—through the whole of my colon, ascending, transverse and descending. And it was threatening to spasm again towards the bend at the end where things head for the exit.
It was decision time. Pop my last cap of the ‘scrip, or wait it out? I already have an appointment with my doc on Wednesday afternoon. I waited it out. This morning it feels a bit more settled. Still have that dull ache though.
It’s nice to know there are people out there in the business world with a sense of humor.
In early December I finally got around to registering my business name with the county. As with all filings with the county, it was published in The Daily Record. This in turn generates a flood of junk mail, which is one of the reasons I put off filing.
Fortunately, the county omits the leading “The” in the name and I had a blond moment when filling out the forms and put in my old Zip Code. Together, it makes it easy to flag the stuff that goes directly to the recycle bin.
Yesterday the first issue of a six-week complementary subscription to the Rochester Business Journal arrived in the mail, with the tell-tale wrong Zip Code and omitted first word from “The Secret Labs”.
In the address label, on the line between my name and the company name, one would expect to see “Owner” or the legal term, “Proprietor.” Nope. It says, “Mad Scientist.”
Almost makes me want to subscribe. Or advertise in it.
In holiday news, my parents gave me one of those indoor electric grills for Christmas. And sent me home with eight venison steaks. I’m getting the hang of it with a couple of porterhouse steaks and frozen hamburgs before trying it on game.
It works well enough even if the timing is a little optimistic. The major issue is that the two countertop plugs in my kitchen are on the same circuit. This means I can use the either the grill or the microwave, but not both together. Meanwhile, I’ve rediscovered boiling frozen vegatables.
On New Years Eve I splurged and spent $2.50 on a 12-pack of Coke (Classic, caffeine-free) to go with my porterhouse. Getting on the bus, the driver first gave me hard time over having Coke instead of beer, then went on about how he only drinks Coke when his stomach is upset. One can only presume from drinking too much beer. Sigh. Times change.
It wasn’t until mid-week that I remembered to hang my Christmas gifts to myself. Back in November I bought the studio and Weiss Kreuz calendars from Bishonenworks. Check out the art the read the fiction. My faves, BTW, are the Weiss Kreuz, Ronin Warriors and Saiyuki stories. From the art, you’ll know why.
A common theme, I realized during some ‘tween holiday soul-searching, is that the characters I like best are all tortured souls with dysfunctional relationships. Besides being cute long-haired guys, I mean.
Which leads to…
Web Boy spent most of December, and all of January so far, in New York. I got to see him only once during his visit back home. And made note that he refers to Rochester as home now.
The visit was marred somewhat by his mood over having racked-up the Mercedes on a patch of ice coming home on the Thruway the night before. Not bad enough to set off the airbags and it was still drivable, if a bit forlorn looking. Still, the repair estimates were breathtaking.
I learned two things though. I don’t care if he drives a Mercedes or a Yugo. (Remember those?) He wasn’t hurt, except maybe his pride, and that’s all that mattered to me. Second, and perhaps counter to that, his uninjured state is probably due to the fact he drives a Mercedes, not a lesser vehicle.
And even at over ten-years old and with more than 220,000 miles on the clock, there was still nary a squeak or rattle in the thing after the crash. It feels more solid than even my sponsor’s brand-new Audi A6.
When it comes time to buy a car of my own again, I may just find myself a used Mercedes. I might even buy Web Boy’s if he carries through on his musings that his next one will have 4-Matic (Mercedes’ version of all-wheel-drive) if he’s going to be spending winters around here.
Anyway, after I last wrote about Web Boy, Chris wrote me, “The way you write about him makes you sound like a fly fisherman with a particularly succulent salmon, patiently tempting it to bite, then playing with it while slowly drawing it in.”
Well, I was thinking more along the lines of winning the trust of a particularly skittish colt, but since I could just eat him up, succulent salmon could work too, I guess.
Anyway, back to the soul-searching between the holidays. It came to me that I had fallen into some very old ways of thinking about him. I was playing my cards even closer to the vest than he is, while at the same time, plotting out a future enmeshed relationship.
Whoa horsey!
First, I have to open up a bit. I’ve missed several opportunities to tell about myself, my real self, in our many conversations. In trying to balance self-disclosure with providing reasons for rejection, I’ve erred on the side of not saying anything.
It’s been much better than before when I’d just dump on people in what was really an effort to drive them away. I’ve just gone too far in the other direction and need to come back a bit. He seems genuinely happy to hear from me when I phone so he must like me (or at least likes that I like him enough to call) so more honesty through revealing my thoughts, feelings and motives should be a good thing.
On the other hand, it hasn’t necessarilly been a bad thing that I’ve held back in that regard because I came to realize that in the fantasy world that is my mind, I’d already planned to load on him more roles in my life than is reasonable to expect any person to be able to fill.
Just as it doesn’t work very well to cast one actor in all the roles in a play or field a one-man sports team, it’s unreasonable to ask one person to be friend, cohort, lover, business partner, business advisor, teacher, student, sponsee, sex god, domestic help-mate, confidante, and what have you. If nothing else, it leads to a blurring of the lines and merging of identities. I’ve gotten in trouble there before.
Nor does any of that respect any of his needs, most important of which is to focus on himself during early recovery. First year work on yourself, second year get a plant, and so on.
Based on the night out we had in December, I’ve dialed-back the expectations I’ve put on our relationship. Friend, certainly. Cohort, Probably okay too. He’s the one who said, “I’ve been thinking that maybe we should merge our businesses.” I’m not ready to go quite that far, but working together as co-contractors on projects is definately in the cards.
So I’m going to leave it at that. Develop those areas and leave the others aside for now. When and if he feels comfortable in picking up additional roles, I’ll decide then if it’s appropriate and what adjustments to existing ones need to made.
