Tim Peterson's Blog

As always, I went to IV last night. I ran the sound from the back (as mentioned before), while Stephen ran the projector from up front where those controls are. I had figured out how to patch into the auditorium’s wireless microphone system, so we were able to use that for the announcements and everyone else that was talking down front. However, the signal was coming through rather loudly into my mixer, so I had to keep things turned down pretty far. To give myself more room to adjust the volume, I decided to ask Stephen to turn down the wireless mic from his side so I could have more room to adjust. After the music, the Guyana team went down to talk about what they had done over spring break. While Christina was speaking, I got Stephen’s attention, pointed at Christina, and motioned downward. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the message, but Christina noticed and asked what I wanted. I waved her off and she continued talking. Then Stephen started Gaim so he could talk to me directly and find out what I wanted (though I didn’t immediately realize this). However, due to how he had the dual screen functionality set up on his laptop, Gaim decided to open its buddy list on the screen feeding the projector. Thus, everyone saw it pop up before he quickly pulled it off the screen. This provoked some laughter, which befuddled Christina, who couldn’t see the screen, but she continued. I already had Gaim open on my laptop (with which I was recording the audio), so I proceeded to send him a message. I realized just as I pressed enter that there was a distinct possibility that the chat window would also open on the projector screen… which it did. Thus, everyone was treated to a chat window reading: “Tim Peterson: Good job. ” This provoked even more laughter, and some of those who read the name on the message (before Stephen corralled it again) turned around to look at me and congratulate me on my brilliance. I just grinned and gave a thumbs-up. I didn’t make that happen intentionally, of course, but it worked out perfectly.

This quarter I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time in which to do it, so I’ve been wondering exactly how to manage it all. However, I got a nice and unexpected reprieve from that this afternoon.

When my last class got out at 5, I was in the engineering building preparing to head out to the car when I noticed that the doors were open to the new wing they’ve been building for the last many months. It looked fairly finished, there wasn’t much in the way of construction in sight, and someone was walking through on their way out, so I decided it was safe to have a look. Only a few rooms are inhabited at this point, the others still being in the process of having their furniture and the like installed. There are lots of glass-walled labs, as well as lots of glass to the outside. It looks like a nice place, and I had fun exploring all the hallways, including the slightly twisty one that finds its way back into the third floor of the old building. I ran into no one until I reached the third floor, where there’s a big room with a big glass overlook. There were three people in there, so I didn’t go in. I shall have to return sometime soon to complete my exploration.

I’m not sure exactly why I found it fun; perhaps it’s the combination of the novelty of having a new building on campus, the sneakiness of wandering around in an empty building, my interest in behind-the-scenes type things (seeing as not everything was finished yet), and simple adventurousness. I emerged happily onto a new sidewalk, where I was greeted by unexpectedly warm weather and a shining sun. Everything was still wet from the thunderstorm earlier in the day, which I had only heard from inside a classroom and wished I could enjoy it. I strolled happily out to the car (once I located it), and headed out. I opened all the windows to enjoy the air, and noticed, among other things, the sound of cars driving on wet pavement. Ahhhhh.

About half-way home, what did I spy in the middle of the road but — what else? — a rubber snake! I had seen it on the way in this morning, at first thinking it was a real snake but then realizing that it was coiled too neatly and was too non-squished to be real. So I turned around and came back to grab it. I then resumed my course, laughing at the fact that God had provided this fine day with not only building exploration and nice weather, but also, as if those weren’t enough, a randomly-placed rubber snake! Excellent, wouldn’t you say?

Thursday night Jackie and I went to the free showing by CAB of Back to the Future at RIT. There were very few people there, so we had plenty of choice in seating, but I followed Jackie to a seat without looking much at where other people might be nearby. We sat down, and then heard the person behind me say, “This guy’s too tall; I’m moving over.” I thought that was rather amusing, and turned around with a grin to see if she had been successful in moving over. When she saw that I had noticed what she said, she said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, that was rude.” I really didn’t mind, and I just found it funny, but Jackie thought it was pretty rude.

Maybe it was just my tired state, but when I got home around 12:30 I still thought that was amusing. However, I wondered why it was I reacted so differently from Jackie. The next day (at about the same late hour, in fact) I discovered part of the answer. First, I find a lot of things funny. I’m always seeing the humor in the little things people do or the situations that occur. Secondly, and more to the point, I didn’t consider the comment rude because I tend to tease people with possibly-rude comments myself, intended to amuse rather than to offend. Therefore, I’m used to such things, so the effect of such comments toward me is usually amusement rather than taking of offense.

I’m curious: How would you have reacted? A laugh? A retort? (Perhaps an incapacitating glare, like someone I know?) What is the typical response to rude comments by strangers? And just how unusual am I, anyway?

Well, that was an adventure.

For several months now I’ve been taking some extra sound equipment to IV every Friday to augment the sound system IV owns. I borrowed the church’s old sound board, which has been floating around since it was replaced several years ago (and by old I mean 1979 vintage). That, as well as several other large parts of the church’s system, came from the original church sound guy who used to run sound systems for concerts and such. He happened to have a spare snake in his garage. (For those unfamiliar with the term, let me clarify that a sound snake is a long, thick cable that carries a dozen or more microphone signals a long distance, with a bunch of connectors on each end. The snake in question is 50-75 feet long and has 12 inputs and 4 outputs.)

The problem with IV’s system is that the mics have to plug directly into the mixer, which has to be right up front below the stage. This means that I have a hard time hearing what’s coming out of the speakers to be able to mix it well. I’ve wanted for a while to remedy the situation, and it was only recently that the pieces all fell into place. I now run the snake from the stage up to the back, where I set up the borrowed mixer. The mics go through the snake into the board, where I can mix from the comfort of the back row, and the results go back down the snake to the old all-in-one mixer, which is now functioning simply as an amplifier. The other advantage of this arrangement is that I now have more auxiliary outputs, meaning I can control my recordings better (two channel recording, etc.).

In addition to those large items, I also borrow a bunch of mic cables and several direct boxes (to connect guitars to the mic cables). The latter aren’t all spares, so I have to grab them after worship team practice on Tuesday and return them on Sunday morning. I have IV small group Thursday nights, so lately I’ve been dropping by church on the way home to pick up these things. This week, however, I forgot about it and went straight home. So, once I got all my stuff inside, I headed back out.

This is where it gets interesting. As I drove in the driveway, I looked through the windows of the sanctuary and saw that there were some lights on in one of the classrooms in the next wing over. I figured somebody had just left them on by accident, but just in case I thought I’d drive around the end of the parking lot to make sure there wasn’t somebody like the pastor parked on the other side of the building, out of sight. Then, as I entered the parking lot, I noticed a flash of light from a car driving past, like a spotlight. This, also, I thought was a bit strange, but I continued on. Nobody was in the lot, so I circled back and parked in front of the sanctuary door. Walking over to the door, I turned to see a car zipping up the driveway. That was even more weird. Who else would be here at 11 PM? Regardless, I turn back to the door and begin to insert the key.

Then the car stopped and a guy called to me. I turned around, and realized it was a police car. He asked what I was doing, and I clumsily replied that I was borrowing some sound equipment, because I ran the sound system. I didn’t really understand what he wanted at first. I started to ask, “Is everything all right?” He got out, directed me to keep my hands where he could see them, and asked a bunch of questions. One of the first was whether I had ID. I paused momentarily, smacked my forehead, and replied that “I’m sorry, I don’t.” You see, I keep my wallet in my backpack, which goes everywhere with me at RIT. But I had taken it out when I got home, and forgotten to bring it on the one occasion when it mattered. He asked more questions. I tried to answer that I was allowed to be there, that I had a key, and that I was even listed in the church directory. He said that there had been a number of church break-ins in the area recently, so he wanted to see if I was trying to break in.

He asked me to get in his car. He looked up my driver’s license information and the car registration on his laptop. he asked where I lived, who else lived there, where I worked, and so on. He asked the dispatcher to look up contact info for the church. I chimed in with the street address, since he didn’t know the number. They couldn’t find anything, though. I tried to be helpful and tell him whatever he wanted to know. He got out and looked in my car. Then he came back in, and I suggested contacting the pastor or secretary. I provided him with the pastor’s name, and had the dispatcher look him up in the phone book and call him. A few minutes later, we heard back that I was clear to be there. So, he let me out, thanked me for being cooperative, and warned me to keep my ID with me at all times. “At least you’ll have a story to tell,” he said. Then I went in, completed my mission, and headed home. (I noticed that I was shaking a little as I started driving.)

After I went to bed, I went back over the experience in my head. I thought about it from his perspective and wondered what else I could have told him to help verify my identity. It’s his job to not trust me, so I’d have to suggest outside sources. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, so I had nothing to hide, and I was rather calm through it all, which probably worked in my favor. I wondered if when I said I was “borrowing” sound equipment he might have thought, “Yeah, right, more like stealing it.” I also wondered if my surreptitious check of the parking lot might have looked suspicious (if he even saw that). I stayed awake far longer than I wanted to, and eventually got to sleep after 1.

I had on previous occasions wondered what the neighbors might think if they saw me at church late at night and bringing things out. This is the most convenient time for me to do it, but I may want to consider doing it on Friday morning so as to avoid drawing this kind of attention.

Update: After church on Sunday, Pastor told us his side of the story. He got a call from someone who said, “Hello, this is Officer So-and-so.” Now, whenever you get a call from the police you get scared and wonder if someone died or something. But no, they said, “We’ve got a guy here who’s trying to get into the church. He’s got a key, and we wanted to find out if he’s supposed to be there.” “Who is it?” “It’s a guy named Tim Peterson.” “That tall, lanky guy? Oh, he’s all right.” And that was that. He then said, “That was the strangest call I’ve ever gotten. I’ve never gotten a call like that before.”

Update: That mischievous family I work with to run sound at church, after being involved in the above conversation, took it upon themselves to cull some pictures from the church photo gallery and… modify them. Not quite up to my usual standards, but they’ll do…

“These exclusive pictures show the tragedy of what happens when a fine young man turns to the dark side…”

Tim the jailbird runs the prison sound system

Tim the jailbird at hard labor

What, oh what can we do about Tim the jailbird?

When I came home from work on Wednesday, my brother yelled from out of sight upstairs, “Intruder!”, as he so often does. I commented on it, and my dad said the house’s immune system must be reacting to me. He continued by saying, as Dan came down the stairs, “Here comes the antibody!” “No, I think he’s more like an uncle body,” I quipped.

At dinner my mom pulled out a book on rocks she was reading. She started to read about Pele’s Hair , thin fibers of glass that can form from molten lava. Not all of us heard the name right, thinking she said Paley , a Christian philosopher. I asked, “Is he the guy for whom paleontology is named?” “NO!” exclaimed my dad, laughing. “That’s pretty bad…”

At small group Thursday night we were going through part of Colossians 3 . We got to verse 12: “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” Allison noted that it was interesting how it says we are to put on these things as if they were clothing, completely covering ourselves with them. I piped up, saying, “That’s some nice compassion you’re wearing there.” This caused everyone to start laughing and then make comments of their own. For example, quoth David O.: “I think my humility is getting a little threadbare.” And Harry: “I’ve got a hole in my patience.”