It's All Overflow

I have a new class to go to on Saturdays. It’s a Public Policy course mainly, but at some point should shift its focus to corporate regulation and governance. But as for right now, we’re keeping our focus on the Constitution and all those crazy federal agencies and branches that make their home just down the road and across the Potomac (it doesn’t go underwater. There must be a bridge of some sort.) Much of what I’ve learned thus far has been beneficial and a worthwhile output of my first four hours of every weekend, but until my professor sings the “I’m Just a Bill” song from School House Rock, I will remain unsatisfied with my graduate education.

Getting up on Saturday morning, all in all, isn’t too bad of a task. I have to be at class by 9, which allows me to actually sleep in a little bit. Everyone kicks it pretty casual, which is a nice change from Wednesday nights when we all come from work. There’s always one guy in the class that will wear his tie all the way through the four hour block on those nights, and no one is quite sure why. If I had the time in my schedule, I’d be changing into shorts and sandals before I hit the door. But not that guy, who looks ready for a job interview at any moment. Sometimes I feel the urge to start firing questions and grilling him for his qualifications, but I refrain. They’ve got cookies to placate me.

The first hour and a half moves a pretty good clip, and at about the two hour point we take a ten minute break. But once we return to our respective notes-laden desks, a new mentality sets in. Something changes in the demeanor of the class. Interest in knowledge gain? Gone. Attention spans? Diminished. And trace of inflection in the prof’s voice? Thing of the past.

I suspect there’s tranquilzers in the bagels.

So, as we review and recap for the second half of class, I find myself looking for additional tasks to occupy my time. I’ve got my laptop, but there’s only so much one can do without an internet connection. I’ve got a wireless card, but it doesn’t play nice with GW’s server. They’re like the Kornheiser and Wilbon of the IT circuit. But even though it doesn’t work, I bring it every week, hoping that a prayer has been answered. After all, I can only sort and organize my digital photos in so many ways. (We’re not talking baseball cards here.) And I’ve written my share of catch-up blogs there, but only by typing in a word doc and pasting at a later date. Man, the INTERNET would be nice right about now.

Wait, a minute. Why do I have IM right now? That would mean I have –
HOLY SOCKS, BATMAN. For reasons that will go both unexplained and unknown, I had the Internet on Saturday. It was at my fingertips. (Where else?) This sudden rush of additional multitasking resources parallels few experiences I’ve ever had. It’s like staring in the window of a Toys ‘R’ Us, and then for no reason whatsoever, somebody tells you that you can go in and play with anything you like. Even the PogoBalls.

Now let’s not get carried away here. We are still in class and we still have notes to take. Let’s keep use of the Internet fairly professional-looking. I leave my fantasy baseball team on the bench for a few hours, as well as checking the latest of Brian’s road journal entries at www.guster.com. That stuff will have to wait. Let’s check the e-mail.

I’m sure none of you received an e-mail from me that Saturday morning. Let me explain why. My plan to catch up on some correspondence went disastrously awry the millisecond I opened up my inbox.

The ability to send e-mail is based on the principle that there’s enough space on the server to store it. As an employee, I am granted 45 MBs of server space. Because of an overflowing inbox and a dire need to file some older e-mails away, I normally flirt within a meg of the overflow point. If I go over the 45, then nobody hears from me. Ever. But it’s okay, I left work with some room to spare. Hey two new e-mail messages!

Message 1 – 9.6 MB. Message 2 – 6.5 MB.

Well, not only have I eclipsed my server limit, I’ve blown it out of the water and waiting for the debris to fall back down to the earth. A typical email is about 4kb, or .004 MB. It’s like I just received 4025 e-mails at once. Even Star Wars isn’t that popular. I would like to thank the person who sent me 15 MBs of pdf files after I left work on Friday. You’ve completely ruined my Internet discovery. I guess I’m going have to actually take notes on how appropriations work in the Senate. Hopefully the Internet Gods will smile upon me next week…

Epiblog: Over the course of the weekend, the IT server sent me a “Your mailbox is over its size limit” E-mail every 3 hours until I cleared it out this morning. 7kb a piece. Does this seem a little counterproductive to anyone else?