Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Shreddin' the twisties



The AWR. So coined by personas known locally and internationally as "Pants" and "Slick." The AWR is the "after work ride." Couple of years ago, I managed to raz a co-worker into submission through ceasless nagging and ribbing. On a beautiful sunny day, I'd walk in wearing my leathers and go "hey man, where's your bike?" I did this about every other day for a couple of years. Finally, he went out and bought a CBR600RR. Probably did it just to shut me the hell up.



Well, today, we both rode to work. As such, we decided to do the AWR thing. Went down corridor G, then headed west on route 3 to route 34, and north to Winfield. Was a great ride. Even managed to get over on my tires a bit. I didn't put a knee down anywhere, but we were gettin' through the corners at a pretty good clip. Sometimes, the zen of a good ride on twisty WV roads is exactly what a man needs.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Escape.

A friend of mine's father was in ailing health. I feel guilty that I hadn't really paid a lot of attention to the guy until he was in pretty bad shape. Once I started listening to what he had to say, I felt like an idiot for not listening all along. He had some profound things to say, and had a way of saying them that was unique.

To elaborate, my friend had hit some really hard times. Some really bad stuff had gone down, and we were at his dad's house. Things were so bad for my friend at the time, that anywhere around supportive family was better than anywhere else. I was seriously concerned he may kill someone. Seriously, it was bad.

In the midst of dealing with this mess, my friend went outside for some air, and to stew in his own thoughts. When he walked out the door, his ailing father looked at me said said, "You need to take that boy fishin." I looked at him quizzically, thinking, but not saying "gee, how in the world is 'fishin' gonna help anything in this mess?"

He continued, possibly in response to my quizzical look. "When that bass hits, a man ain't got a care in the world."

Now, I'm not even an amateur angler. I fish a good bit. But my friend's now deceased father's words have been ringing in my ears for years now. "When that bass hits, a man ain't got a care in the world." The more I think about that, the more true it is. When that bass hits, the universe is boiled down to two points connected by a piece of nylon line. There is no crime. There is no welfare. There is no war. There is no long-running family disagreement. There was no argument last night. There is no poverty. There is nothing but a bass, a line, and you.

The fight might last all of thirty seconds. But for that thirty seconds, there are only two things in the entire universe. You, and that bass. And in the end, if he breaks the line or spits out the hook, it's really the same as if you land him on the bank or in the boat. For an instant, all of existance was boiled down to two points and a line.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Network Engineer's Nightmare

Literally. A nightmare.

You know how when you get steeped in something in the waking world, sometimes it bleeds over to your dreams. Like, guys who work in supply warehouses start having dreams about millions of boxes. Stuff like that. Well... damnit, it's happened to me.

Recently, I've been doing a *lot* of network design. I've been working nearly constantly with switches, routers, redunant gateways, redundant physical paths, (insert long line of technical jargon like Virtual Router Redunancy Protocol and Spanning Tree Protocol etc...) to the point of madness.

Well, last night, I dreamed I was standing in front a switch. A big Cisco switch. Now, when I say big, I don't mean it had a lot of ports in it. I mean the damned thing was BIG. Like, six feet tall. The data ports on it were three or four feet across. The patch cables that went into it were a good three feet around. The problem in this dream, was that we didn't have enough of these ENORMOUS patch cables. And unfortunately, we had a major uptime requirement that just couldn't be broken. The systems must stay up. There were two of us. And we came up with an idea to keep the systems up. My co-worker would go into the switch (and by into, I mean literally walk into the damned thing instead of log into it) and try to implement a software work-around. My job? Switching frames.

Yes. The frames were about four feet long, translucent, weighed about a pound, and were maybe four inches wide and three inches tall. I could read the source and destination mac addresses that were etched into these "frames." They came out of one giant switch port, and my job was to read the source and destination mac addresses off of them, and carry them over to the correct destination port, and throw them in. Yes. I was a VLAN.

I nearly woke up screaming.

I think I need to find a new career as a construction laborer or something.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

So sayeth the flatlander....

"yeah but your whole state is like goddamned afghanistan with trees and moonshine"

-- unnamed friend from flyover country.