RyanHarne.com

For quite some time, possibly beginning with my intense movie-going experiences of high school, I’ve been a critic of many media. If ever there is something that excels with quality in its field, I enjoy acknowledging it and appreciating the form. From modern art and comedy to classic literature and television - anything that is truly stellar, I’d love to enjoy it (recommendations welcome).

While some people may no longer get a kick out of the pie-in-the-face gag, I still relish in simple comedic jokes. With gratitude and humility, I will admit to being the butt of a perfectly executed example of wit today. It all began during the morning hours of work… ::cue flashback ripples::

There I was, taking some measurements in the lab, using some gauges and then writing some numbers down on my chart, over and over again. The noise levels emitting from the machines in use generally drown out any hope of hearing someone enter the room, so I was unaware of a small party arriving while I sat with my back to the door. Oh, the drama builds.

So, I’m getting some data when I feel a tap on my left shoulder. I pause for a second before turning because I was writing something down, and during that pause I was asking myself who it could have been. The state of a semi-tedious task also made me question whether or not I had, in fact, felt something on my shoulder. So, once the numbers were jotted down, I turned to my left. No on there. I reprimand myself for falling into a dreamy state in which I imagine people tapping my shoulders.

But then I turn to the front again, and I see two of my co-workers walking down the corridor heading for the other room. And the one on the left is trying to stiffle a lite smile. The first thing to flash into my mind: Brilliant! He pulled off the timeless shoulder-tap routine with a perfect response from me and also impeccable form. I heard no sound prior to feeling something on my shoulder, that is always the key to trapping your joke-victim in this situation. I felt stupefied and awed - a seamless integration of procedure and results.

Needless to say, I hold this state of being the poor end of a joke as one of the greatest honors I’ve received of late. And with that said, let me add that I’ve received very few honors of late.

There are a few groups that form unspoken bonds solely based on product identity. Car owners often exhibit this phenomenon, although it’s generally limited to certain brands of cars. Volvo owners, VW, and, especially, Saab owners seem to have these ties to each other that exhibit themselves in the form of waves or side glances. Mazda Miata owners also, and Mini Cooper owners.

This doesn’t just begin and end with automobile manufacturing, but extends to other realms freely. One other such bond-forming agent is the ownership of an Apple computer. This isn’t the case everywhere, I must note, because there are some areas that are so saturated with Macs that the ratio of Mac-to-Windows is uniquely toppled towards Steve Jobs. But for the majority of cases, Mac users are a scarce species - not near extinction, no far from it, but more so just now emerging as that super species, if I may say so myself.

Such implicit relationships among Mac owners are very noticable in towns like Lynchburg where the Microsoft demons are prowling within nearly all offices and homes. To see someone pull out an iBook or PowerBook while at a coffeehouse nearly demands that you have a quick chat with them about Apple (this is assuming you are a Mac user yourself, as I am using this example from my own experiences). There have even been recent news articles pointing out the opportunities for singles at Apple stores because, “if you talk to a guy in the Apple Store, you already know he’s going to be modern and up-to-date and sober. It’s healthier than picking up someone in a bar.” Well put. There is just something about Apple users that attracts themselves into groups.

With that said, one of the symbols around Lynchburg, and I’m sure elsewhere, of Apple users are the small Apple stickers that come with every computer purchase. Most people throw one on their car and use it to get some glances and looks and whatnot. I just thought it looks nice; plus, I’m a geek and it is a necessity. Necessity like my Underworld 1992-2002 album, must have.

Today I was driving around when I noticed a Volvo trying adamantly to pass me. I don’t mind people passing me, and I tend to help them by slowing down a bit if possible, so I was cautious while this person weaved around me and into the adjacent lane. But she soared ahead of me in the next lane and then slowed down to my speed once she had passed me fully (for a better visual, think of our cars now being caddy-cornered).

I was shrugging off this odd maneuver, but then I noticed something on her rear bumper. An Apple sticker. Oh, lovely! So I proceeded to take the invitation to race back ahead of her to pomp off my Apple sticker. And back and forth it went. On a side note, car safety was taken full into account; nothing stupid was attempted during this event.

But this isn’t the first time others (or me, actually) have noticed another Apple sticker and quickly moved their [my] vehicle so that the other driver can notice their [my] sticker. It’s a humorous endeavor, but it has some undeniable meaning to it. You don’t see Windows users trying to hook up at Best Buy. Being an Apple user comes with a territory of being sophisticated (or at least a mostly-assumed territory).

Before I wrap-up, Apple released another iPod ad today. Featuring, no less, the song that is shown in my new graphic. How interesting! I guessed fortunately.

Last Saturday, I spent some time Photoshopping and such at The European Cafe in Wyndhurst. I did the same one week later, today. After each visit and graphic designing session, I went walking around some of the housing areas of the “planned community”. Last week’s walk made me feel like I walked into the middle of a holocaust - the full extent of my visual and auditory senses registered no signs of life. I got a kick out of walking past a Prudential advertisement/flag waving in the wind. It made the most sounds I heard on my entire walk.

This week’s walk was completely the opposite. There were people mowing their eighth-acre lawns, some construction saws going wild, and even some other people taking walks. Being my analytical self, I wonder why there would be considerably more activity today than seven days ago. It could have been because last weekend was “Mother’s Day weekend”, per se, and possibly people were out of town. Oh well. I like experiencing the contrast of life. It makes even more repulsed by mediocrity and that, in turn, makes me want to live in a vibrant and dynamic city.

Speaking of vibrant and dynamic, I’ve been doing some maintenance to this site. Noticably, the graphic header change, but also a few things that I never mention. Like the About page, for example. I’ve also added a few graphics to the Graphics page, to which you are free to criticize me on, or praise me - whatever works.

Earlier this week, a state of delirium drove me to praise the updated iTMS despite my exhaustion. Last night, I was shot down. From the inside out.

In essence, I was the victim of food poisoning of some sort. Just minutes after dinner, my stomach was so tense and taut that I truly couldn’t move. I found yon bed and laid down. But some time around 3am I woke up and was instantly inspired. Of course, my graphic header (up top) isn’t a huge deal to most people, but when I visualize a new look it’s almost as if I’m replacing pontiffs. A twinge of excitement and uncertainty clutch me and I am usually, at that point, stuck in a state of consideration until I decide to get my hands dirty with Photoshop. That last step is really the big one; I’m simply not a whiz at Photoshop, and trying to get my mental visual onto the screen is an indescribable challenge.

Inspirations comes in many forms. Had I a choice last night of how I was to be inspired, I would not have chosen a stomach-turned-rollercoaster.

One of the prices we must pay as American workers, students, whatever is stress. There’s always a catch in fueling our esuvees and stripping the rainforest for our condos in the Rockies, and it comes in the form of twitching, agitated stress symptoms. Regardless of the source, or curse perhaps, each person naturally finds a way to deal with her/his stress, whether it be constructive or destructive recovery methods. There’s even an industry devoted solely to ‘instant’ stress-relief products.

Anyways, through years of employed toiling during the summers and, now, during off-semesters, I’ve formulated my own stress-relieving practices. In general, they are concentrated around reading; working out; sitting down for a latte and a conversation; and the very occasional frivolous expenditure.

Yesterday, I was sitting down to a mocha I hand-crafted with care, when someone reminded me of how great Wheat is. I make it a habit to listen to their album with some amount of frequency (because it is just that fabulous), but I hadn’t even considered them of late when quickly scrolling through the iPod’s artist menu. So I made one of those mental notes: “Listen to Wheat, stupid”. How could I forget a mental note like that? Yeah, not likely. I’m a thinker.

So today, after work, after a very intense day of work, I took a run with portentious clouds lining my view. I decided Wheat would be a good band to help along each impact of my heels, so off I went - running to Wheat. Upon returning and allowing the sweat to bead down my neck and arms and such, I slowed my walk to the door and stood still, looking directly to the sky, neck arched back. At that just moment, it started to rain. Drops of supernally cooled water collided with a still-weary-of-work head. It was a serene moment.

Also, at that exact moment that the rain began to flow from the sky, these lines began to play from my iPod’s earbuds:

“I was talking with some friends / When the heavens fell around me / So I had to stop and catch a drink / … / It began to rain / You let your guard down slighty”

Wheat, raindrops, and perfect coincidence relieved my storehouse of stress. In one instantaneous flash, brilliant yet unseen, removing an invisible burden. It sounds so foolish, just too simple to make a difference when worries and cares are surmounting; but it did the trick.

Even if “Life Still Applies”, tonight was a very good night.

An individual, who will remain totally anonymous, dared me to grow “wicked burns”. This person was refering to sideburns, or “chops” as they were also called. I had no specific objection to raise, so I felt compelled to comply. Right now, I’m just letting the basic area grow and soon I will start to shave the outline of The Great Sideburn Experiment of 2005.

If anyone has any advice, words of widsom, or targetted warning then feel free to pass it/them along. I’ve reached the phase where this new facial hair is starting to itch and I am therefore looking for all range of sharp objects to scratch my face with - nails, broken glass, basically anything that results just short in total laceration. Lucky for me, I have had a few life-altering bouts with poison ivy that have given me a distinct tolerance to most itching, so this doesn’t really bother me… but…. aarrrg, right now I want to rip this skin off my cheeks.