Taking the bus was my choice, not a necessity, as Kelly reminded me again this evening. True, I could have had Kelly drop me off this morning, but the bus had something else going for it. I got my lab results back from my physical of last week and they show elevated cholesterol levels. They’re not off the charts, but enough to get my attention.

That means exercise is a must for me. Since taking the bus would give me walking and riding exercise, it seems that the money I’ll pay in fares will be directly invested in my heart. That’s a pretty good bargain, I think.

Since I was limited in how many places I could pedal to go to lunch today, I settled on nearby Lake Johnson park. After ten minutes of pedaling, I was at the new boathouse, squinting into the early fall sun.

A few moments later, I was enjoying a microwaved chicken filet sandwich and some nachos while I sat in a rocking chair overlooking a sunny, breezy lake. I was even tempted to rent a sailboat and go rocketing across that lake, but I had a conference call scheduled that I couldn’t miss.

Lake Johnson will always have the feel of home for me. I remember taking walks around it early in my time in Raleigh. When I thought I was finally “making it,” I lived in an apartment which backed up to the lake property. Even now, I miss sitting on that back porch and watching those thunderstorms roll by. Or watching the geese on “final approach” to the nearby lake.

After finishing off my sandwich and nachos, I dragged myself away from the peaceful serenity of Lake Johnson and pedaled back to the office. Once again, a little diversion from the normal routine provided a welcome change of pace.

I took the bus into work this morning, as Kelly’s car is getting some work done on it today. The trip was surprisingly easy. TTA buses have bike racks on the front, making it easy to get from your stop to your destination. They also increased their routes in Garner, making it super-easy to walk to my stop.

Only problem is that I forgot to pack my lunch today and the usual suspects with whom I normally eat lunch are not here or already eating.

Note to self: next time I take the bus, take my lunch with me. 🙂

Comedian Bill Maher had a great post about what cellphones ought to do.

New Rule: I Don’t Need my Cell Phone to Play Video Games or Take Pictures or Double as a Walkie-Talkie–I Just Need it to Work

Why is getting to level four of Tomb Raider no problem but, to have a simple conversation, I have to stand on a hill with one hand on a flagpole? Thanks for all the bells and whistles, but I could communicate better with actual bells and whistles. Let’s not lose sight of the cell phone’s primary purpose: to annoy other people in the restaurant.

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I had a great idea yesterday while I was in the middle of mowing my lawn. Yard work puts me in that zen-like state. I guess its my meditation. Anyhow, it was something collaborative between area bars. As I posted below, I spent Saturday afternoon at a bar with my dad and brother while we watched the State-Carolina football game. The idea came to me looking back on it.

You know how some bars have fun trivia contests? Like Ri-Ra‘s Newcastle Pub Quiz, where everyone joins in and competes with other tables? What if that was taken city-wide? Like a “bar-league” of trivia games?

There are tools now that can make that possible which weren’t around a few years ago. Ri-Ra could compete with the Sawmill Tap Room, or Harrison’s, or Greenshields, for example (the two former establishments need webpages as well. ). You could support your favorite bar and feel some team pride as you went up against others: a citywide game of darts.

Details need to be worked out, but now that these businesses are getting Internet-enabled, this could take off. Perhaps I should consider some sort of wireless internet tie-in, too.

What does the Peanut Gallery think of this?

I was watching the NCSU-UNC game at the Hi5 sports bar, along with my brother and father. When halftime rolled around, I stepped outside to give Kelly a quick call.

As I’m talking to her, I hear a loud “bam,” and recognize the sound of a car accident. I hung up with Kelly and went to see what happened.

At the nearby intersection, a Ford Escape had smashed into a Maxima, hitting it at its right front wheel. While there were many witnesses milling about due to it being halftime, no one had yet gone to check on the passengers. I hustled up to the cars – completely forgetting to watch for traffic as I crossed the street – and assessed the scene.

Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. The Escape driver was a 20-something man, who began to rant that the Maxima driver had totaled his car. The Maxima had a couple, also in their 20’s, who were much calmer. In fact, they were much calmer than they should’ve been for having had an accident. Looking back on it, they may have been in shock.

I walked around the cars, asking them if they were all right. Having had two beers by then, I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I would’ve liked. Luckily, everyone else seemed coherent. The Escape driver pointed to his peeling forearm, a casualty of his air bags deploying. The other car’s passengers seemed to be free of injury – the brunt of the other car’s kinetic energy was spent pushing their car around, rather than going through them.

I had begun to dial 911, but noticed a handful of other callers on the sidewalk, some of whom were obviously already talking to dispatchers. An ambulance was already responding to a call at an apartment building across the street, so one of the EMTs walked over to lend a hand.

With little left to do at this point, I began to wander back inside. Suddenly, the horn in the Escape began to blow. I turned around and saw my chance to be useful. The almost-delirous Escape driver told me he couldn’t find the fuse box. Apparently he hadn’t had the car for that long. I poked around under the dashboard before I found it. The only problem was that the fuse puller was missing and this Ford had really tiny fuses. After a helpful onlooker offered his keys, I pried the proper fuse free and the noise ceased.

Looking up, I saw two police officers and a fire truck (Excuse me. I mean “fire apparatus.”) had arrived. The pros were there: time for me to leave. I went back inside to brag about my quick-thinking move that prevented certain injury – at least to everyone’s eardrums.

I’m really disappointed at the lack of trash-talking surrounding tomorrow’s State vs. UNC game. None of my blogging friends have mentioned a word about it. Come on, guys! Nothing to talk about?

The weakly amusing News and Observer featured a comparison of each football program, claiming they were closer than people think. In the 11 categories they listed, State topped UNC 6 to 4 with one tie. And the categories UNC won were mostly stuff the UNC-School-Of-Journalism sports editors tossed in to prop up Carolina.

The truth is that it’s sad when State is so dominant over Carolina that the UNC fans can’t be found. It’s a lot more fun to smack the Heels around when they are successful. I hope the Heels can put their team back together soon so that the Wolfpack can happily dismantle it again.

By the way, John Bunting is a great coach! He just needs more time. 🙂

On my flight back from Baltimore I had an epiphany of sorts. I had just played a crucial role in closing a deal for my company. I wowed them when they needed to be wowed and enjoyed every minute of it.

As I waited on my celebratory glass of wine to be delivered by the flight attendant, I stared lost in thought into space. “That was pure fun,” I thought, and compared it in my mind to all the time I spent in server rooms.

There was absolutely no comparison. I decided right then that I would never work in a server room again.

System administration is a thankless job even in the best of times. When things are going swimmingly with the computers, everyone thinks you just goof off. Things are different when an outage occurs. Rather than being a hero by repairing the damage, the users tempers flare and you get blamed for everything.

People who have never done the job don’t realize how difficult it can be. Things going well? You don’t get noticed. Things not going so well? It’s your fault, slacker.

For a person who thrives on positive feedback, the job became draining quickly. As I saw on a roadsign somewhere, computers don’t give hugs. When all you hear is griping never balanced with praise, it is time to move on.

Things are quite different in my new position as a sales engineer. I get to travel every once in a while. I play a key role in the sales cycle. My work is laid out for all to see, including total strangers. I have to think on my feet every single day: no two days are the same. I have an outlet for my showbiz side, and each day these skills get a little bit better.

Customers don’t tell me no. They can’t. I won’t let them.

To this, I can bring my 10 years of system administration experience to create a compelling story for the customer. I too am a veteran of the technology trenches. Fought the same battles, too. But like a military veteran, I no longer wear the uniform.

The sysadmin uniform no longer fits me.

I know they aren’t supposed to do this, but I swear the airport security people slipped some ballast into my laptop bag when I wasn’t looking. This thing weighs a dadgum ton! I wondered in amazement this morning how I managed to haul this thing around Maryland without pulling my shoulder out of socket.

If I do much more travelling as part of the ol’ job, I’m gonna need to order up one of the lighter-weight laptops that are made. Otherwise, I might as well be dragging a ball and chain around.
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When I heard that Chris Rix, quarterback for Florida State, was ticketed for parking in a handicapped spot when in a hurry to get to class, I was shocked. I mean, really: there are athletes who actually go to class? Who’da thought it?

If Rix is a little paranoid about missing class, he’s got a reason to be. After sleeping through a final exam, Rix missed playing in the Sugar Bowl, potentially costing FSU a championship. While parking in a handicapped spot is pretty low down, I suppose I can’t blame the kid for not wanting to miss a class.

On the other hand, maybe I’m giving him too much credit. He COULD be just another jock who thinks he can get away with anything. Lord knows there are plenty of those to go around – at any university, not just at FSU. What do the mt.net readers think?