Tim Peterson's Blog

I finally got around to finishing this, regarding my birthday on Saturday the 6th.

On the Wednesday before, Jackie called to say that she was back from seeing her family for Christmas and to ask if I wanted to do anything on the weekend. I explained that I might not want to, since Saturday was my birthday. (She proceeded to berate me for not having told her sooner. I didn’t quite understand the reason at the time…)

Until then, I hadn’t really thought much about my birthday. We usually don’t do much for my birthday, just dinner of the birthee’s choosing, cake, and presents. But I realized that this year I actually have some friends that I know well enough to invite over (female though they may be). So, I acted upon this on Thursday. Ruth and Jackie both said they could come, but the latter said she was planning something for me afterward, for which I’d need to come over to her house. (Suspicious, eh?) I also asked if they had a preference between French toast and lasagna. My mom had suggested the former, since it’s one of our traditional Saturday night foods, but one that we don’t have very often, thus making it more special. The latter was my sister’s idea, since she likes it and has had it for her birthday before. I didn’t have much of a preference between the two, so when Jackie requested French toast, it saved me from having to make such a difficult decision.

On Saturday morning, my dad and I went to church to practice our quartet for Sunday. All four members of the other family were involved, but they came in two cars because of their scheduling for that day. Or rather, they tried to. One car arrived on time, carrying the mother and one son. She called home, and was told that the others had car trouble. One wheel of the car had frozen up, so it wasn’t going anywhere. They had, however, managed to get it from its parking place on the lawn onto the driveway, where it was blocking the exit of the other car (which they could have taken) in the garage. Stymied, they called AAA, leaving the remainder of us to practice our parts alone.

I spent the afternoon doing things I felt like doing, rather than the things I felt like I needed to do. I worked on my map viewer a bit (and banged my head on somebody else’s bugs), watched some I Love Lucy with the others, and built with my Zome (five intersecting cubes forming a dodecahedron with their vertices). Then I went to pick up Ruth and Jackie at 5.

We sat around in the living room for a while while my parents prepared dinner, looking at my siblings’ Lego constructions, observing my Zome creations, bouncing a balloon, and reading books. Finally, it was ready, and we ate. In addition to the French toast, there was turkey bacon, applesauce, and cranberry applesauce. Somehow I got full after only five slices. Then we had cake, lovingly prepared (well, mostly; see below) by my mom and sister. Then I opened my presents, as well as a card I had been given at practice earlier. From my parents I got a pair of pairs of pliers, as well as Brainiac, the book by Jeopardy champion Ken Jennings (which I had requested).

After hanging around for a while, we went over to Jackie’s house. She wanted to watch a movie, but things didn’t work out at the rental place, so we didn’t get anything. Instead, we ended up watching a few somewhat fragmentary episodes of M.A.S.H on TV Land. I had never seen this show before. The one thing I did know about it was that it contained Alan Alda, who I know better as the host of the Scientific American Frontiers program.

After lounging around for a while watching that (as well as whatever else we could find during the commercials), the girls started muttering amongst themselves, and then went in the kitchen. Not being interested in the TV, and knowing that they were probably working on whatever it was Jackie had planned, I lay back and closed my eyes for a few minutes. When they returned, Jackie was carrying a cake. I blew out the candles (in the shape of the number 22), and we returned to the kitchen. Jackie cut a large piece for me, to which I objected, citing my still-full stomach. Ruth helped by taking a few chunks of mine and eating them (somewhat messily, I might add). I ate the rest, which was good.

I’m often more practical than emotional, which means sometimes I may inadvertently hurt people’s feelings with my practicality. My initial reaction was, “No, I don’t need that much cake. I’m still full…” But Ruth quietly pointed out that Jackie *had* actually made me a cake, so I should be nice and accept it anyway. I really am thankful that she cared about me enough to do that, but I didn’t express it very well.

I knew beforehand that Jackie was planning something, but I didn’t know what. She had mentioned on the phone something about who was cooking dinner that night, but, having only that much information, I didn’t think a whole lot about it, and didn’t come up with anything. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered that she’d bake a cake, appropriate though it is. Maybe it was a foregone conclusion in my mind that we’d just have cake with dinner, since that’s what we always have for birthdays. Thus, it seemed a little excessive to be having yet more cake afterward. But nonetheless, it was very nice of her to do that. I only wish I had made sure she knew I appreciated it.

While we were eating it, Ruth commented that she liked my sister’s cake, except for one part: the frosting in the middle. I started laughing in the middle of her sentence, since I knew exactly what the problem was. “Yeah, I didn’t warn you about that…” See, last week my sister was making something that required frosting. Unfortunately, she used granulated sugar rather than confectioner’s sugar. (Culinary mishaps by her are not unheard-of.) Thus, rather than being your typical smooth frosting, it was gritty and crunchy. This wasn’t acceptable, so she made another batch for the job at hand, leaving the imperfect stuff for later use. As time passed, it found its way onto some cookies, but still wasn’t completely used up. So, they finally got rid of it by using it between the two layers of my cake. (The outside of the cake had chocolate mocha frosting.) I didn’t warn my guests about it, though I quietly joked with my sister about it as it was being served, but being the polite type, Ruth didn’t complain — until now. (Jackie didn’t eat the frosting, period, but that was just a personal preference.)

Once we finished our cake (while I tried to be grateful about it), we returned to TV-watching. Later, Ruth got a call and had to go, so I took the opportunity to go as well. I thanked Jackie for the cake as I left, hoping she wouldn’t still think me too ungrateful.

And then, once I was alone in the car, a strange thing happened. Actually, it’s probably only strange to other people, given that I do it all the time. When I’m around other people, I tend to be calm and reserved, saying little, expressing little. I’ll talk somewhat, smile, and occasionally laugh, but that’s about it. And that’s around friends — strangers are likely to get even less out of me. When I’m alone, however, it’s a completely different situation. All the stuff going on in my head is free to come out, since there’s nobody around to overhear it. I’ll talk to myself, sing with the radio, laugh maniacally, etc. So, on this particular drive, I found that I was extremely happy about the evening’s events.

I’m so happy that God’s given me friends like this. For many years it’s just been me and my family for my birthday, occasionally including my grandparents. We’re quiet people, so it’s not a bad arrangement. But this year I’ve finally gotten to know a few people well enough that we can actually do things together, including having them over for dinner. I’m acquainted with a bunch of people at IV, but they don’t usually invite me specifically to things, nor do I have anything I’d feel comfortable inviting them to myself. However, after the camping trip that brought about the beginning of this blog, Ruth and Jackie have taken an interest in being friends with me, for which I am very grateful. Even if I’m not so keen on eating a lot of cake, it still shows that they cared enough about me to do it. Thank you both.

After practicing for a quartet with people from church last Monday, we were sitting around talking in their living room. They asked what my job was, and one of them jokingly suggested telemarketing. He gave an example of what I might say, in a suitably bored voice: “I don’t suppose you want to buy a computer, do you?”

This brought to mind the following, excerpted from a chat on April 10th, 2005:

* Tim rarely makes phone calls, but found himself treated a bit rudely on one call he made recently…
Jared: Oh?
* Tim placed a call. The phone rang, and a woman picked up.
Tim: I began by saying, “Hello, is this the ______ residence?”
Tim: Then she hung up.
Jared: WAS it said residence?
Jared: And they just hung up because it was you? 
Jared: (kidding)
Tim: Yes, it was.
Jared: Heh.
Jared: How nice.
Tim: The first time I tried I must have done it wrong, since I got a number out of service message. The second time, I was hung up on. I tried again, and this time got someone to listen to me. I was soon told that I was hung up on because I sounded like a telemarketer.
Jared: Heh.
* Tim needs to work on his phone greetings.
Jared: Apparently.

The jury seems to be out on whether I’d make a good telemarketer. (My opinion is that I wouldn’t dream of becoming one.)

I wrote the following paragraph just before Thanksgiving, but I forgot to post it.

The mother of an IVer or two works at Crossroads, where I usually eat when I’m at RIT. She often waves or says hi when I go by the salad station where she works. Last week was finals week, and this week and the next are break. This means, of course, that nearly every student has gone home (or the equivalent thereof). But not me. I’m still working, since CIMS, including their co-op students, doesn’t follow the academic schedule. When I walked into Crossroads this afternoon, there she was working. When she saw me, she made a weird face and said, “What are you doing here?!” “I’m working,” I replied. “Aren’t you going home this week?” I explained that I lived locally, so it didn’t matter. “That explains a lot of things.”

RIT has two weeks off for Christmas and New Year’s, but I only have a week and a day, so I’ll have four days of similar quiet before everyone comes back on the 8th.

Ruth was back from co-op on Monday, and had asked if I’d be available to hang out. I called Jackie around 6:30. She said she’d call Ruth to find out when she could come over and watch a movie. Thinking that this would be a quick call, I stuck around near the phone to wait for the return call. After several minutes, however, I decided it would be more fruitful to go do something else. When it got to be nearly 7, I started wondering if she had forgotten me. So I called back. And got a busy signal. I should have known that they’d manage to talk for an extra half hour. I guess I’m still not used to girls. But she soon called back, requesting that I arrive at 8.

They didn’t have any movies I’d necessarily like, so I agreed to bring something. We don’t have a whole lot of movies here, but I found two that might be suitable. I still wanted something I could be more sure we’d all like, though, so I left early and stopped at the library to look around. The trouble is, I don’t usually want to watch a movie unless I know it’s something I’ll enjoy, and it’s hard to tell if it is without having watched it. (Alas, a catch-22.) So, I didn’t end up getting anything.

I got to Jackie’s at 8, but Ruth wasn’t there yet. To pass the time, Jackie started flipping through channels on the TV, and came upon the Disney channel showing the beginning of what I recognized as Holes. I had seen it once before with my youth group at church, so I suggested we watch that. It was still good the second time around. I had seen the movie but not read the book (though I should), while Ruth had read the book but not seen the movie.

Following the movie, Ruth “enlisted my assistance” in moving boxes from her room to her car as part of her relocation. I happily obliged, and we spent the better part of an hour moving things (and watching the fish tank drain).

Ruth: I think I can handle the rest myself.
Tim: Done exploiting me?
Ruth: That’s what friends are for, eh?

Earlier in the day I had read in Our Daily Bread about how God orchestrates both the big things and the little things in our lives. It included a story of how some children and their parents, after parting ways in a large amusement park, were unexpectedly reunited at just the right time. I realized on the way home that God had done the same sort of details work for me tonight. I had wanted to watch something that would be enjoyable for all three of us, so I was worried about what I could bring that would accomplish that. But in the end, there was no need to worry, since God provided a movie I hadn’t even thought of that fit my desires. On top of that, He gave me the opportunity to be useful and help Ruth. It was a good night. Thanks, God.

After small group on October 19th, Ruth, Anthony, me, and he whose name I cannot remember went to Buffalo Wild Wings. We had Thursday’s 50 cent boneless wings. In the past Ruth has mentioned that all female RIT students are assigned two stalkers, partly due to the oft-cited gender ratio at RIT, which presently stands at a little under 2:1. [Ed. note: Strangely enough, on the day that I write this, I happened to notice in an RIT history page that in 1911 there were actually more females than males at what is now known as RIT.] She proceeded to mention that one variety of them are away message stalkers… and motioned in my direction. I explained. I had picked up her screenname from the IV directory along with those of other people I was familiar with (not necessarily those I had actually talked to before). On January 15th, shortly before midnight, I noted that her away message said something about not understanding centroids, evidently a topic related to her physics. So, I attempted to be enlightening.

Tim: If it’s centroids you want, Wikipedia knows all about them: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centroid
Ruth: who are you?
Tim: I am Tim Peterson, from IV.
Ruth: not ringing any bells
Tim: Well, I’m not very memorable.
Tim: I was sitting on the railing with bare feet on Friday, and you said hi.
Ruth: I’m such a dummy
Ruth: sorry
Tim: I’ll live.
Ruth: I was just wondering why you had my screen name
Ruth: not many people check my away message that I actually know of
Tim: A while ago I grabbed a bunch of people from the IV directory I was acquainted with, but I’ve rarely IMed any of them. Instead, I just check away messages once in a while.
Ruth: ah
Ruth: does that mean you’re a stalker?
Ruth:
Ruth: just kidding
Tim: Muahahaha.
Tim: That’s how I find out what’s going on, since I don’t actually talk to anyone.
Ruth: aaaah

That’s how our friendship began. I’ve been stalking her ever since (in the most minimal way possible, of course, since I couldn’t let her notice me).