Monday, February 27, 2012

Writerly Days

Physical therapy. pain.

A couple of hours with John. from the beginning. problems. promises.

Idle thoughts. a nap. a dream. idyl.

Tea with Adrea. a startling poem. words aplenty. plans.

Salmon soup. dry rye toast.

Homework: exercises, pain.

Organic ice cream: reward. doctor house on the telly. maybe a movie.

A Tobias Wolff short story (reminder: point a to point b without dallying)


Wednesday, February 15, 2012


Yesterday was good. Met with Boss and told him of my decision. He was very accommodating and said details could be decided by me, how I wished to proceed. "Stay in some capacity. As you wish." Roughly that.

I plan to return to trusting my instincts more. What I feel I need to be doing. Path? Maybe that. I do know that I must channel more energy/time into healing this shoulder -- it has me concerned/worried, which of course is contrary to Path (it would be nice to argue this point over Bourbon with a certain relocated obstinate stoner; maybe another time).

I have always liked the title, Living Deliberately. A helping of that for me now.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Days of Empire

Last Tuesday I told my boss I would not be continuing on with my current position (DSM) when I finish rehab/disability. I said in 1 week (tomorrow) I would let him know on a new position he had offered (Brokerage MGR). Everyone assumes I will accept this and start likely 4/01, mainly, I assume, because of my medical issues and, of course, the health insurance. And my living expenses are not insignificant. It would be prudent to take the job.

Competitor A also has 2 offers on the table: the DSM as a fallback should I decide I must do that again; and the Brokerage MGR at what seems to me significantly superior compensation (a large percentage is projection/commission). Insurance and so forth is comparable.

Tomorrow I will tell Boss that I am passing on the new job. We will work something out where I finish my rehab (hopefully released by end of March). COBRA will continue my insurance for 18 months at a reasonable rate. I am tired of working for others, of having a boss. Which means I will have to inform Competitor A that I will not come work for them either (I probably would tire of them much more slowly -- I greatly liked meeting/discussing business with them).

So what is left for me to sort is how I will be earning money for the foreseeable future. I can return to selling insurance for MOO as I did prior to accepting the DSM in 2010. I  can open my own shop and work solo or hire and train agents (this is appealing at some level). I can use this time to finish my novel while figuring out some way to keep The Empire reasonably sated so that some income continues whilst I pursue what the hell I want to be doing in the first second and third place. This last choice is the most appealing and, at present, my default position. Details needed to ensure more likely success. Plans.

When I got this place at The Vistana I knew it had to lead to me staying home writing. It is just too spectacular. I remember talking with CC about it, saying it was outrageous on my part. And that screw it, I deserved outrageous. Well here we are. I can't wait to get going again. And I am very nervous. Quite a lot has changed since Adams Street.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Trouble with Tribbles

It has been an eventful 3 months. Much learned. Much digested but not yet processed. And I am feeling chatty.  Update:

My physical recovery moves along on two separate planes. The cardio rehab nears completion and I feel like I have recaptured part of my past. I recognize components of my physicality I feared lost -- balance, posture, movements. I feel me emerge, the familiarity of Self that I had taken for granted before it was lost. But that is past now and it feels so good to recognize the movements of my body.

My shoulder rehab moves slowly and I wonder/fear if I will ever regain full use of my left arm and shoulder. It does not hurt like before and for this I am grateful. I am sleeping much better now; not being woken by the pain as before. But range of motion is not there. I am early in rehab so it is likely that only time and effort are needed. This is what I tell myself. But I fear the worst.

Most of the collateral damage from the CABG surgery has vanished. I don't know if I am among the  brain addled 51% mentioned in a previous post, but today I am inclined to give myself the benefit of the doubt. Internal systems seem back online. Full circulation now in my left hand with tingling gone and strength returned to my fingers. I think my chest could withstand a good punch.

And yet what has not passed: every time I roll over, or sit up, or sometimes just rise from a chair, comes an involuntary shrill guttural (goddamn annoying 6 months later) sound from someplace deep. It is a daily reminder that I was split wide, violated, saved. It is if I brace myself against attack, against exposure. It is as if I still cling to something. Or maybe that is not it either. But it is a constant reminder that I have been changed in a large way.

Kismet: Lunched and libraried with William on Friday, discussing writing group members NB and Andrea and Lyle. In the Cellar I come across 2001 Best American Short Stories with NB mention (next 100) and then Saturday run into Andrea (after several years) at HEB, who of course asks about William and Lyle and NB. To coffee with Andrea this week and make plans to restart another group.

Next post: Job Offers and Empire and Decisions;
Next post: Back to work, finally;