Checksum Arcanius

Sometime earlier this week, Dan suggested that we get tickets to Friday’s Mariners game, since he predicted that Ichiro would break the record that day. So I agreed, and when Ichiro didn’t break the record the game before, Dan went ahead and purchased the best tickets available: 300 level, 25h row, seats 9 and 10. And yes, the 25th row IS the last row. Seats 9 and 10 also happen to be the hardest to get to in the row. And we were late, because the will call line people don’t understand last name eltter frequency. So, after hustling up the many stairs to the 300 level, Texas having finished batting, we went into the wrong section just to make sure we would see the hit if it happened.

And, of course, it did happen. Hit number 257 was a classic Ichiro, chopped just over the third baseman’s head. Fireworks went off and the crowd roared. We retreated and made our way to the proper section. Unfortunately, the usher didn’t direct us correectly, and we ended up in the wrong seats again. We watched the next inning like that, then the real seatholders came, so we had to go find our real seats again.

And we didn’t have to wait long. When Ichiro came up to bat, the crowd stood. He sliced off his obligatory fouls, then put the ball straight down the middle. Everyone knew what had just happened. Nobody sat down for at least five miutes. The Mariners emerged from the dugout to greet Ichiro. We clapped. And cheered. And clapped some more. Fireworks, rare at Safeco, were in abundance. Nifty preprepared graphics lit the outfield screens. And for all the melodrama, the best part was Ichiro’s mild, unassuming acceptance of the praise for a job well done, and then he got back to business, helping the Mariners go on to get the win.

But most impressive of all, to me, was the realization that I had when it happened; a realization which has come to me only rarely throughout my life: that these moments are the ones that make the human condition worthwhile. The pain and suffering, bad politics and worse policies, high taxes to pay for stadiums and to waste on social programs – all of these things don’t really matter in the long run. Overcoming them together – as an amazing player and his fanatics did on Friday – makes it all seem ok for the time being.

A bike trip is in my future. A long bike trip. A very long bike trip.

I learned this today, when Scott called me. After the usualy formalities (or, more appropriately, in our case, informalities), he proposed the idea. At the same time, a little cellphone blip caused the word “bike” to be muffled, and all I heard was “_____ trip from Maine to Florida.” Since we have previously been on a road trip, I assumed that the blank word was “road,” so I immediately proposed that we start from here, drive to Maine, and then down to Florida. Then he repeated himself, and this time, I cauhgt the word “Bike.”

Oooooooooooh. I readily agreed. East coast? Be prepared – we’re coming, summer of 2005.

It seems strange to me that people who read my Blog will talk to me in person, or on AIM, and comment on something that I wrote in my Blog. You see, there is a mechanism built into WordPress (the Blogging software I use) to add comments. Using this mechanism, your comment becomes part of the fabric of the website, and ultimately, makes the site better, in my opinion; this I like. Occasionally, I have added somebody’s online comment to the Blog myself. Commenting lets others see different points of view, additional thoughts, and so on. All of this is good.

So why don’t more people leave comments? Spending just a short time thinking about it, I came up with two ideas:

1. WordPress offers no mechanism for editing comments. If you mess up, you think you’re stuck with what you accidentally said. Or you could submit another comment, correcting the previous one, but then you just feel kinda dumb and you never comment again. Well, have no fear – Ryan is here. If you mess up on your comment, you can contact me, or submit another comment. I will usually fix up the comment for you, and delete the extraneous one. WordPress keeps no history, so no one will ever know you messed up, and I will quickly forget too.
2. Writing comments can be a scary experience. Once its in writing in the public view, it becomes much more real than a simple AIM message to me, or an in-person comment in passing. Unfortunately, this is a false sense of security. I use Trillian, and I have it set up to log all of my IM conversations. Nothing you say to me goes unlogged. Sure, its not neccesarily online, but there’s only previous bad experiences stopping me from changing that. Also, I remember everything anyone says to me, so telling me in person isn’t neccesarily safe either ;-)

If that wasn’t enough to scare you off, its time to post a comment. It is your destiny.

Just finished watching the BYU vs. BSU game. It was a bit disappointing watching BYU come so close, just to loose on a missed Matt Payne field goal – which is a pretty rare event from a solid player. Life goes on, though.

Today, I was trying to put away my mother’s glasses, which she had left on the dashboard of her Highlander, which I was driving for a family trip to my sister’s place in Seattle. I opened up the sunglass compartment – and voila – my sunglasses, which I had relegated to the “lost or broken” pile that all my sunglasses seem to quickly migrate to, reappeared. This was no common joy; this was overjoy, as it was bright and sunny, and these are by far the most superior sunglasses that have ever graced my posession. They went to good use on that born-again maiden voyage.

Then, upon returning home, my newish Lexar Jumpdrive appeared out of the drying machine – having already withstood the torment of the washer as well – and it looks and works none the worse for the wear. How about that! Finally, this morning, I drove by the Shell station, and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but my work basge which had extricated itself from me on Friday while I stopped by the same station. It had once been lost, but now was found.

Sometimes when I sleep, I have strange dreams. But when I’m awake, I dream big dreams. Big like Mt. Everest. Like about the great things the TRC will do, and the ways that I’m going to change things when I’m president, and good bionic inventions to have. Then I finish mowing the lawn, and one guy shows up for the hack session, and Bush and Kerry are the only viable choices, and the FDA stifles all medical innovation. So I keep on dreaming.

I slept for 8 hours, and woke with strange dreams in my head. Work was good, but uneventful, then i went with Beth and Shai to see Without A Paddle, a reasonably fun but ultimately useless movie, whose main excitement was the fact that we went in the exit and I snuck in a Jamba Juice. Afterwards, we ate at Chipotle and I took everyone home before settling in for a night of CS and TRC letter writing, punctuated by the realization that the TRC’s old site doesn’t work, and Firefox treats the new one like a giant text box that it can delete everything in, if I just place the cursor and hit backspace…. although everything looks right otherwise….

I think its time for bed…