At this point in time last week my insides were being probed, sliced and photographed for posterity. At this moment, it’s only my mentality that’s being subjected to dissection. Roughly half the week was spent recouping and the other half was spent working. Sometimes the two overlapped and I just worked from home — it was a lot easier on my body than trudging into the office and doing the same thing.

The physical strain I was expecting. My first day back at the office I debated on wether to bother bringing my pain meds with me to the office; could I make it through the day or would I have to dope myself up to the point of zombification to make it through my 9 to 5 swing? In the end I voted against the pills and by about 3 or so I was regretting that decision. The same mistake was not repeated today. While the need for them has greatly diminished, it still is a need.

Too bad the little wonder pills can’t take away the brain ache that the office work itself is bringing about. Not the work itself, but more because of how my boss has been doling out said work. This has been a thorn in my side for quite some time and the fact that it’s stayed off the life ledger here for so long is some kind of minor miracle. But as I start to approach the end of the year and the one year mark, I’m starting to analyze my decisions — both past and future — more and more.

When I first started, things were great. I was living by freelancers rules, doing web site, print and user interface work. It was involving, invigorating and above all paying work. The people in the company were good to work with and the person I reported to directly was fair and level headed. An easy place to work at and I enjoyed my workdays.

But then came change. Right about the time when rumors of me landing a full time position started gracing my ears quite a few faces started turning over. The company was still quite healthy (and continues to be) but those I had grown to know and count on were one day here, next day gone.

Finally the full time offer came to me formally, but it involved me jumping full time from general creative tasks to dealing with the software UI side of the company full time. Still quite reasonable, but it also involved a change in who I reported to: the president of the software department, and someone whose mind I can’t pin down. Since becoming a full timer on May 1st, I’ve had one major, unending project in trying to redesign the UI of one of our flagship products. During this time, the focus has shifted many, many, many times. I begged for goals and deadlines and all I received in return was requests to finish the project as soon as possible.

Maybe it’s just me gripping over nothing, but I’d like to think in my four years of professional web work I’ve learned a thing or two about how projects should be handled and what a mishandled one apperas. Before the year is over I think we’ll have things wrapped up, but this could have been finished a whole lot sooner. And I’m not saying things would be better if it had been all in my hands — nothing could be further from the truth. All I wanted to be on this was the talent, but it’s hard to get inspired when your boss’ favorite sayings are “Do it just like Microsoft” and “we’re almost close”.

That last one is almost zen like, and it’s the truest words I’ve ever heard uttered.

My recent health woes have made me quite glad that I was working full time long enough to get the health care package, but that’s about the only good from the situation I see at the moment. Since jumping shift from the creative to the software side of things, the life has slowly been draining from my livelihood. While I like the company and the people, I think jumping back might be the only way I’d get some joy back, but I have high doubts that such a jump would ever be possible.

I guess I’m gonna get the hunt started again — preemptive this time — and see if I can’t breathe some new life into my 9 to 5 dealings. And until then I’ll keep giving 100% to those who sign my paychecks and 110% to those freelance projects I can dig up on my own. There is some hope of maybe working again with some of the past Monetaire crew, and Nick also has the wheels starting to turn with his baby, Think Green Media.

The paths are starting to show themselves to me, even if I can’t read the signs by them quite yet.

I sit before you as a 95% man today. Maybe even a 97% man. Of course, that number feels as whole lot lower, but that’s to be expected when you have a doctor go in and carve out your gall bladder. God really didn’t make the human body to be easily user serviceable, you know.

I have to say that the whole operational experience wasn’t that bad. I checked in at Palisades Medical Center around 1pm on Friday, was ready to be sliced and diced around 3:30 and was on the operating table by 4, half-joking with the nursing staff that I’d like a video of the operation from the arthroscopic equipment they’d be using.

After that all I remember was blacking out and waking up in the recovery room, wondering if I had even had the surgery. A quick look down at the four newly stitched incisions in my abdomen reassured me that this was all quite real. The time was 6pm — damn time moves fast when you’re being used as a pin cushion!

I was admitted overnight for observation and repeated stabbing in my leg with pain killers. Demerol certainly became a friend of mine that night! Anything to take away the pain if two billion sit-ups that was residing in my abs. Sleep was sound, yet frequently disrupted. I would find myself waking every two to four hours, calling for the nurse with that blessed call box. And that heavens for the TV as well — I could have gone quite mad without its mind-numbing abilities on call.

Early Saturday afternoon I was finally allowed to have visitors and my sister Shannon and cousin Erin made a planned appearance to spring me from the facility. A quick stop at the pharmacy for the mandatory pain killer prescription and I was back home recovering in my own bed. When I’m finally back up to walking around enough to venture into the city and the office is still up in the air, thought I’m keeping my fingers crossed I can pull it off on Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m just thankful that this is the last step in the recovery process. Well, at least until the next problem shows up, that is.

Any wagers on when or what that will be? Just remember that the house gets a cut of all bets made. ^_^

Ever wonder how you can be the victim of vandalism and wind up having to pay twice for the slight against you? Yeah, until yesterday morning I hadn’t either. The wheels of justice certainly weren’t oiled very well. Either that or one of the teeth in the gears was missing. In hindsight it might of been better not to have been there at all, especially considering my role in all this would probably be listed as “Victim #2″ in the credits if this were a movie. But someone at the Weehawken justice complex sent the time to write up a subpoena and far be it from me to ignore something so legally binding — that kind of stupidity I’ve moved past.

Anyway, before the case I was involved in was heard there was a lot of sameness in the court proceedings. Same old dog and pony show you get at any municipal court: speeding tickets and bad driving violations amended and downgraded, a few DUI offenders getting their first slap on the wrist while staring at the billyclub that will be used for a second offense and so on. Then again, because Weehawken is the home to the Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel it does widen the scope of the stories of woe by just a wee bit.

For instance, there was one man who could not speak a lick of english and who had never had a drivers license anywhere before who was in front of the judge for driving under the influence after he was arrested for barreling into a closed lane in the aforementioned tunnel. It was clear the offense was grand enough that the judge wanted to throw the book at him, but maximum penalties and other legislated restrictions kept things on somewhat of an even keel. Still, the gentleman defendant will go without driving privileges for nearly two years. Of course, that didn’t quite stop him before.

By the time my reason for giving up half a day’s pay was heard, the judge had taken three unannounced recesses and I was down to my last few grains of patience. Before the judge were two relatively young looking men from Connecticut, well groomed with lawyers at their sides — former frat boys perhaps. Their offenses all stemmed from a drunken streak of vandalization of cars, including an instance of throwing a traffic cones at a car. Wether it was moving or not at the time was not disclosed, but my guess is that it was. I’m sorry to say that for all of the effort made by the police and the prosecutors, a severe lack of witnesses wound up killing all but one charge: the cone throwing one. The judge let it be known that “justice was not served” and I have to agree. It wasn’t like I was out for blood in all of this. Hell, until 24 hours before my appearance I had no thoughts in my head of ever finding out who did this to my car, much less getting reparations for the offense.

All told I wasted half a day’s pay to receive nothing towards the replacement of my car’s wiper arm. In other words, it’s like I’m paying for the repairs twice. At least I got some satisfaction in seeing that one offense get paid for. The cost of cone throwing: $1,000. And the pain in the man’s face as he doled out the fine one Ulysses S. Grant at a time did calm my seething rage.

There have been times when I’ve been before a court as a defendant and have wound up paying less in both time and money, but in the end it’s just the system at work. I can be content that it gave me some weblog fodder and just pray I don’t get any more subpoenas in the mail for some time to come. Maybe giving my car a good coat of Drunk-B-Gone^TM might keep this all from happening again.