i prefer pi

I got up at a quarter ’til six this morning, took the first 545 Express of the day over to Seattle, and exercised my new camera. Out of the 270-odd shots that I took, perhaps half a dozen turned out well, but my odds of success increase with each successive attempt.

Lonely promenade

Exile

It’s difficult to describe the singular joy that I felt when I was greeted at the entrance to the local food court by a bluegrass band playing “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” Home is a powerful place.

I hate to say this, but I’d seen it coming for a while, and there wasn’t anything that I could do about it. As of today, I no longer work on “Avalon.”

Success!

I stumbled into my apartment near midnight last night, fell asleep trying to get into the shower, and ultimately passed out until 9:00 this morning, when I was awakened by the parking lot painter outside. The Shadow Squad crossed the finish line last night around 10:30, after a 40-hour run (a literal “run” at some points). I vaguely remember listening to the rantings of a street preacher on the steps of the Seattle courthouse, wandering around Tacoma on foot with no idea who had taken our van or where it was being kept, buying potatos from the Olympia farmer’s market at three in the morning, opening a package of M&Ms and discovering that each one had a Viginere-enciphered message on the back, and swimming through a lake to get a “special” set of Starbucks cups. It was a mad, mad, mad, mad trip, but it was a blast. If I get a spare second in the next three weeks, I’ll post a walkthrough; otherwise, just grab me when I get back to Texas.

If I call you at three in the morning on Sunday, and I’m frantically asking you questions about the specific heat of water or Huckleberry Finn, don’t worry — The Game has me.

Zero hour is at 6:15, so I’d better hit the hay.

Overpopulation?

According to the Internet, Texas has a land area of 261,914 square miles, or 7.3 trillion square feet. Assuming a current world population of 6,446,131,400, if everyone moved to Texas, there would be roughly 1132 square feet for every man, woman and child on the planet Earth. Compared to New York City, which currently has a population of 8.1 million in 309 square miles (and whose population density was worse by an order of magnitude a century ago), that sounds rather spacious.

Luminaries

How often is it that one gets to sit in a presentation about the state of the art in graphics hardware with Jim Blinn or discuss The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with Bjarne Stroustrup over dinner and drinks? If my life thus far is any indication, the answer is “Once every 8312 days.” I look forward to April 24, 2028.

EDIT: In addition to those, Dr. Yurttas (the source of all of my CS quotes) and a passel of other A&M people were at dinner, which made it all the more enjoyable. Good times.

A recent exchange with one Alex Spiridonov, who will be attending graduate school at texas university in the fall:

Me: What’s on the back of your shirt?
Alex: It’s a listing of all of the schools of the Office interns.
Me: Oh, cool. Hmm… I see Texas A&M University there–
Alex: Yes, that must be a mistake.
Me: –but I don’t see t.u.
Alex: That’s because it’s down at the bottom (we were sitting down –Ed.)
Me: Oh. So A&M is above t.u., eh?
Alex: Yes, it’s called “collating by alphabetical order.” You should check it out sometime.
Me: I just think that it’s interesting, that’s all — that A&M comes before UT.
Alex: Well, I guess that it’s good to be interested in simple things.
Me: Touché
Alex: I imagine that people at A&M are fascinated by many simple things — the alphabet, numbers… the movements of the sun and the moon…

Well-played, Alex; well-played.

There is a vine — It is Vinus terminarum, literally The Vine That Ends. It is the fell template from which all other serpentine monstrosities are cast. Planted by a black demon of spite, it is stern, unyielding, and absolutely bristling with armament. Its leaves offer no token of shade, its bitter fruit yields only gall. It lies along my route to work.

In the lapse of my vigilance

As its verdant talons sunk deep into my leg, I had a thought: “This is what it feels like to have skin rent from flesh.” I cannot remember the last time I have experienced such pain. As surely as I write these words, my first action upon dressing my wounds will be to set upon it with flame and blade and terminate its existence. I will leave no tendril unsundered, and I will pour salt into the gaping hole left by its black roots.