geoffmitchell.com

I’m convinced that the applications coming out for the iPhone are going to change the face of mobile computing forever. There are numerous tools already available that are productive, time saving, efficiency maximizing godsends. And there are usless gadgets and do-dads as well. After all, all work and no play…..

One of the apps in the latter category is an incredibly simple little drawing product that lets you scribble lines in four choices of color. It is right up there next to “iBeer” in the useless hall of fame. But with kids, useless is relative. So I installed it.

This morning, over breakfast, I took it out for them to both tinker with. When doing so, I showed them how it work by selecting the blue color and drawing a smear down the left side of the screen. I followed with a yellow one in the middle, and red on the right. Primary colors.

It took only a moment before I recognized something strangely familiar, and a moment or two later for the connection to be made. I drew the colors from the cover of Synchronicity. At least, it was close enough to trigger the weak sparking of some random, dusty brain cells, forming a connection from subconscious to consious thought.

I wish I’d remember more critical things over these little tidbits, but it seems my mind holds on to inconsequential details with the same randomness as it does the important stuff.

It’s incredibly satisfying to see a product you’ve been working on for some time finally be announced and released. And even when there’s hiccups and bumps along the way, once it’s out and in use, it’s rewarding as hell. So I wanted to send a quick congratulations out to my friend and weekly geek-lunch group member JS at the release of the MobileMe software update. The new interface in the System Preferences… that has his fingerprints all over it.

Way to go JS!

I’m quite happy to say that I’m writing this with two fingers. That’s right, Wordpress now has an iPhone application, making it quite simple to fire off a post from just about anywhere.

I have numerous posts in draft status and they too are accessible from this new product. Perhaps I’ll be able to pick up the pace again. Now somebody just has to author a stopwatch that will pause real time, ala “The Twilight Zone“.

Most of us, at one time or another, have been exposed to the smell of an electrical fire or a burned-out motor. It’s the dank, dark, heavily spiced smell of burning copper, electronics and plastics all combined with a pinch of cumin for taste. It’s distinct, and when you smell it, you tend to seek out the cause with great concern and immediacy. After all, the shorting out of a hair dryer or the overheated washing machine motor can lead to greater issues in the home beyond wet locks and dirty dishes. An electrical fire in the home can bring the house down. Literally.

Tonight, while cleaning dishes and moving about the kitchen, that very smell caught my attention while close to the toaster and cappuccino maker. It was strong enough to make me stop in my tracks and start wildly sniffing about in search of it’s origin. I unplugged both of those appliances, inspected them closely, and while I could not isolate them as the cause, the scent persisted in that immediate area.

As I moved some stacked papers to better evaluate the potential source, I noticed a drying finger-painting or two made by the kids earlier during the day. As I moved them aside in order to gain easier access to the outlet behind the counter, the smell of an electrical overload disappeared. Or better stated, it travelled with the paintings.

Yes. I’m hear to tell you that Crayola finger paints have the exact same smell as a burnt-out electrical appliance.

You would think, given that there’s literally nothing ‘natural’ in the ingredients of that stuff, and that it’s already one chemical away from a street-light and two chemicals away from a terrorist’s weapon, that the makers might have found a simple way to neutralize the smell in the lab. Yet somehow, they’ve overlooked the olfactory impact of that particular product on the adults who buy it and bring it unknowingly into their homes.

Perhaps it was intentional. Perhaps there actually is an additive already there, intended to elicit momentary confusion in the lives of already harried and disoriented parents, just for some executive malfeasants own disturbed personal pleasure and satisfaction.

That, at least, I could respect for the mere creativity and innovation.

In 1967, on the heals of the ground breaking release of “Pet Sounds”, Brian Wilson’s creative genius went on overdrive, resulting in an unparalleled creative explosion, his own nervous breakdown, and the shelving of what would have likely been as significant a release to the Beach Boys as Sgt. Pepper was for the Beatles. Some 40+ years later, Brian Wilson returned to dust off and record the complete effort as originally intended. By todays standards, it still holds up quite well. By the standards of it’s day, it was innovative and revolutionary. It was unlike anything that had been done before. It took the momentum of “Pet Sounds” to an incredible new level. It’s well worth listening, and if you care to see a documentary about the back story let me know.

It’s that time again; time for me to whine, moan and complain about being swamped at the office. It’s actually not all bad news, as we’ve finally got somebody on hand taking one of the three projects i’ve been working with off my hands. But all the same, man, the meetings have been insane. I had to stop and capture yesterday’s schedule just to illustrate. The entire day, from 9-6, back to back, meetings across the board. The added punch is the number of double-bookings. More than half.

So yeah, if I seem a bit stressed and unfocused…. there’s a reason.

I had errands to run this morning, as did my wife, and when I talked to her at about 11.30, she indicated that she was at a shop with the kids and would be home for lunch by 12.30. Shortly after 12.30, the phone rang, it was her, and she was making a big deal about how well behaved the kids had been for her during the morning drive/shopping. She wanted to reward them by having me meet them for a family lunch. So we agreed to each drive to a favorite local spot, Aqui, in Willow Glen.

While there and enjoying our meals together, I got a text message from a friend who had been intending to swing by our house and pick up some computer stuff he needed to borrow. He lives only few minutes away. He also is a fan of Aqui, the restaurant we were at, as mentioned.

The exchange was brief and simple. Here’s what I interpreted...

Him: “You around?” (Are you at home so I can drop by?)

Me: “Aqui” (No, I am at Aqui, having lunch)

Him: “good time?” (having fun?)

Me: “Si” (Yes, we are having a good time. So good I said yes in Spanish.)

About 30 minutes later, as I drove up to our home, I recognized his car on the street and found him inside talking to my wife, who’d arrived moments before me. In typically rude, geek engineering fashion, I skipped the social pleasantries, greetings and salutations that my wife so graciously reminded me of a moment later, and just blurted out “What are you doing here?” or something to the effect.

It turns out that he knows Spanish, or at least one word more than I know. And that word is “Aqui”. “Aqui” means “Here”. So as he stated, we had two very different conversations at the same time.

Here’s what he interpreted...

Him: “You around?” (Are you at home so I can drop by?)

Me: “Aqui” (Here. Yes, I am at home.)

Him: “good time?” (is this a good time to come by?)

Me: “Si” (Yes, come by.)

Skip this post unless you’re a techno-geek. So, Today’s the big day and Apple’s iPhone 3G goes on sale. There’s plenty of reasons to be excited about that, including the great pricing of the phone [although the plans… that’s another story]. But IMHO there’s much more to be excited about the iPhone 2.0 software update. In particular, the support of third party applications. In typical Apple fashion, they’ve built a beautifully integrated environment through which, with free or very reasonably priced applications, they are shifting the whole paradigm of the iPhone as a mobile computing device. Just browse the Applications online or through iTunes and you’ll see how much this opens the platform up for an incredible amount of uses. It’s mind boggling. And it’s brilliant. Sure, other platforms have apps, but this is so well designed and access to apps is centralized through the phone or iTunes, so you’re able to easily find and install stuff, stuff that’s been reviewed for quality, consistency and compliance with high standards.

HOWEVER….

If you’re one of the unfortunate ones, such as myself, who set aside a typical practice of waiting a few days and instead, eagerly jumped on the bandwagon as soon as possible this morning, well, your phone is a brick. It’s useless. Because once it goes through the update to the software, it has to go through an activation process, and that requires AT&T, and those servers seem to have fallen down and gone boom. So I sit here, typing up this quick post, gritting my foam covered teeth, searing at the idea that such a critical day, and an anticipated product launch, could be so badly botched. As my friend JF says, “they screwed the pooch”.

I expect this from AT&T. I expect worse. But I am embarrassed that this was not handled better then it has been by Apple. There’s plenty of things that could and should have been done to mitigate this inconvenience, from forewarning of the possible delays to better readiness on the server side. It’s not in my world, but I hope that the key players responsible for this being such a disaster are not having their stripes ripped off their shoulders.

One more lap around the sun. One more year has come and gone. There’s really so many more important things on my mind and my plate then taking more than a moment to pause and recognize the carving of another tick-mark on the wall of time. Likewise for my wife, who’s in the midst of solo kid-watching while work is being done on the house. I’ve repeatedly insisted that this be a low-key day. I’m even willing and quite happy to pick up some take-out on the way home for dinner. As long as there’s a couple cards from the kids and a candle to blow out, this will be a quiet day and night for me.

In the mean time, if it’s of interest, there’s always last year’s post.

We’re having some work done at our house, and in the course of starting it, we were informed today by the contractor that our heater/AC ducts were in a pretty serious state of disrepair. We’ve long had issues with the heat or AC not making it to the further points of the house. The home inspection indicated that there was a crushed duct at one point, and we had that repaired, but the flow of air still never quite made it very strongly to the back bedrooms. Now we know why.

When we were told about the issue today, it was stated that some of the ducts were rusted and cracked. I mentally envisioned a few minor cracks here and there in what was otherwise in decent shape. Holy crap, I could not have been more wrong. The section I was able to see is beyond belief. This does not look like a modest degree of aging and normal wear. This looks like the hull of a 100 year old dingy pulled from the bottom of the ocean. The insulation is tattered away and the brittle flaking rust is barely able to withstand the slightest impact, as seen here. It’s incredible that any air ever made it beyond this point in the first place, and this explains the heating and cooling bills we’ve been dealing with.

I don’t supposed we have any legal recourse related to the sale of the house and the condition of these. It wasn’t even found or reported to be this bad in the inspection, which I can only assume is due to this being relatively obscured and inaccessible.

We’ll be having this fixed, so the costs of the work being done just shot up a couple thousand dollars, but it’s obviously not something we can or should delay.

One of the very few downsides to avoiding mainstream media is that, although I avoid the 90% bullshit that is branded “news” (being that, if it scares or titillates you into reading/watching in order to sell ad space, well… it’s “news”) I also miss out on some important headlines or tidbits that actually would matter to me. Fortunately I have several friends who know me well enough that they’ll forward news of interest my way. So when I got two emails today, both with the one word title “Carlin”, I knew right away that he’d passed away. Without even opening the emails.

My childhood friend Matt and I, in 8th grade, used to listen to “WINO Radio” and bust out laughing. It was from Carlin’s earlier days and without controversy. When we were in high school he was putting out the cutting edge material in “Occupation Foole” and “Class Clown”. I was raised in a home where Lenny Bruce was accessible, and cutting edge humor and honesty was not as taboo as it might have been in other homes. I weened my appreciation for comedy on Carlin, and even to this very day, you’ll find his material on my iPhone and iPod.

I wasn’t a strong follower of his work in the last 10+ years, although I did enjoy some of his work including “Brain Droppings”, and as a fan of word-play humor, Carlin was the master. I recall a very interesting “Biography” show on his life, and his decision to go against the grain with his ‘younger, hipper’ act took a great deal of honesty and determination. Additionally, in appearance on “The Actors Studio” and “Larry King Live”, he spoke directly and unabashedly about his personal beliefs and faith [or lack of either], which was also honest and brave, and earned my sincere respect. He holds a place in my personal list of top-comics, in such company as Lenny Bruce and Bill Hicks. Like those comics, much of his routine is based on speaking truths and pointing out things that challenge us to think for ourselves instead of being told what to think.

There’s lots of his work up on YouTube. Take a moment to enjoy the truth-laced comic stylings of the late great G.C.

At lunch last Friday, a friend imitated my known tendency to pack all the garbage from my meal into the single largest container, typically a drink cup. It was not clear if it was solely for the purpose of mocking me, or, as I prefer to see it, they’d suddenly realized the calming benefits of doing so, as well as the need for all of us to practice this in order to restore a sort of harmony with the universe.

The act of “trash compacting” is one of several obsessions I wrote about a couple of years back, most of which remain daily habits that, for some bizarre reason, are only known to me as key to preventing the world’s rotation from suddenly coming to a dramatic and catastrophic halt. Were I to stop, all non-compulsive occupants would find themselves hurling towards the stratosphere in an ironically unified and organized fashion, while those of us who’ve consistently kept our currency sequenced and oriented, vacuumed in a repeating pattern and laced our shoes so the top laces of the right shoe cross to the left while the top laces of the left shoe cross to the right, will remain to inherit the earth, allowing us to ensure that all toilet paper rolls are hung with the paper rolling forward and to the front.

This all came to mind last night as I was washing, drying and putting away dishes. I suddenly became aware of a patterned behavior that I typically don’t seem to notice. Yet this time around it caught my eye and I had to pause and marvel in hindsight, (with a reasonable degree of fear for my own sanity at the same time,) at the method and intention that clearly runs through my subconscious actions without forethought. While stacking dishes and cups.

I noticed it when I came across a stray cup to store, and became conscious that I was taking measures to an extreme, because I had stopped to determine it’s appropriate placement within the existing stack. As you’ll see from the image below, which I snapped on my iPhone (once I stopped shaking my head while buried in the palms of my hands), I’d been sequencing the colors. The first was the stack of plates and bowls. Notice the colors of the bowl stack match the colors of the plate stack. That went unnoticed. But when I found the stray cup, a light blue one, I had to insert it between the pink and dark blue. That’s when I realized I had been stacking to a pattern; orange, pink, light blue, dark blue, yellow…. and over again.

Mine is a tortured existence. A sequenced, aligned, and organized tortured existence. :-)

There is a fine line between “homage” and “sabotage“, a precarious line to walk when it comes to Pink Floyd, made all the more harrowing when focusing on “The Dark Side of the Moon”. It takes some nerve to think you can cover this legendary landmark recording in its entirety. It takes balls to actually attempt to do so. And it takes skill to succeed.

These guys clearly have all three.

Thanks to a music conversation with a summer intern, I’ve been made aware of a group named “Dream Theater“, and discovered their recordings. They’re the quintessential progressive rock band, somehow freed from the chains and shackles that were the mid-70’s, surfacing in the late 1990’s instead, and still going strong. Their sound is incredibly clean, crisp, multi-layered and very intense. As was the case for many of the aforementioned progressive rock bands, concepts play as heavily in their compositions as does the need to have almost operatic or symphonic length songs.

My initial introduction to their catalog continues, but of particular note in this post is a full length cover they performed of “The Dark Side of the Moon“.

They apparently have done more then one cover tribute performance, and this particular one was recorded in London in late 2005. Now, If I had to line up all of the recordings in order of how many times I’ve listened to it during my lifetime, DSOTM would be at the front of the line. Without question. I have listened to that recording from start to finish more then any other release, including the Beatles. I’ve owned it on standard vinyl, an ‘Original Master Recording” version, CD, Enhanced CD, the Classic Album’s DVD documentary of it’s making, and even my MP3 encoding of it is at optimal quality. I’ve quoted passages from it on may occasion throughout my life, and know the words by heart. I even got to see Roger Water’s perform it live last year. So I know, all too well, how it sounds. And I can only imagine how brutally it could be damaged in the wrong hands.

That’s what’s so note-worthy [pun intended] about this recording. It’s wonderful. It’s pristine. This band is an extremely talented group of musicians, and their performance is an almost note-for-note recreation of the entire record. In addition to that, the sound recording is amazing. The audio clarity is spectacular. As I started listening, I was and remain incredibly impressed at their skilled playing and successful recreation of such a classic. And tacked onto the end of the recording are numerous other Floyd tunes, all played with great respect to the originals

I can now add a new sentence to my personal list of things I never expected I would ever say, yet somehow, end up doing so. “These Pink covers are incredible.”

This is a reminder that the way we structure our day is not conducive to our nature. My good friend Brian emailed this to me, and the timing is perfect. Just yesterday, in a 2-3 pm meeting, I found myself nodding off. REALLY nodding off. Not just ‘getting bored’, but actually having a hard time holding up my head or keeping my eyes opened. I was afraid I’d suddenly snort awake and draw the attention of the 20+ people and presenter at the time. I had attributed it to a heavy lunch, but it’s always been the case that I tend to wind down between 2-3. I actually returned to my office at 3, locked the door and laid back on the couch for a light rest for about 20 minutes.

Per this chart, I’m an Owl. And per this chart, I did just what I should do. Just what our bodies want us to do.

Everybody I’ve ever discussed this with has concurred that they can get into afternoon slumps. And this explains why.

One has to wonder what effect, over hundreds of years of habitual practice, our habits might have on our natural behavior. Perhaps done long enough, we’ll evolve into beings more adept at going 16 hours without feeling the need to rest. It would not surprise me.

For the time being, though, I’m considering trading my lunch time for snooze time. I tend to either have meetings or work through most of my lunch breaks as it is, so perhaps blocking 2.30 - 3pm as my own private downtime might benefit me in numerous ways.

Don’t Bother Me. I’m Napping.

The parenting of twins can often feel like driving an off balance, rusted, wobbling 1940’s jalopy, the type that’s only a speed-bump away from leaving you sitting amongst a pile of metal pieces, smoke, and steam, still holding a detached steering wheel as the rear tire slowly rolls past you. In addition, you’re perpetually running 10 minutes late for a critical appointment when the radiator cap suddenly shoots skyward beneath a pillar of steam, while the sputtering sound of a dying engine drives home the reality that you’ve lost all forward momentum.

That’s a weekly, if not daily occurrence for my wife and I.

For the past few years, I’ve leveraged an annual opportunity to park the car off the road, in the tall grass, and get out for a breath of fresh air. I walk around it, kick the tires, straighten the front left fender, reattach the handle on the right side passenger door, and then I step back several hundred yards to just look at it from a distance. I allow my ass to recover from the lack of shock absorbers, stretch my legs, massage the cramped fingers that have so tensely gripped the steering wheel as I’ve attempted to guide it through dips, potholes and unexpected detours, and take stock for a few moments, before climbing back into the front seat.

Today is that day. Today is Father’s Day.

Historically, I first used this day to get away for a longer stretch of time. Last year, though, I realized mid-day that there was someplace I wanted to be much more than away, which was an epiphany of sorts. And this time around, I opted to pivot the previous year’s activities. I had a wonderful light “French” breakfast provided at home, then I took a few hours with each child alone, to just go out and about, focused on having some father/daughter and father/son time. And the later part of my day was set aside for my own solitude and self reflection.

So, as I sit on this stump of a fallen oak tree, just a few hundred yards away, I can hear the engine clicking sporadically as it cools in a modest summer breeze. The mixed smell of burning rubber and over-heated oil on the manifold are faint, but present even at this distance, perhaps permanently embedded in my clothing, if not my psyche. The squeaking sounds continue to echo in my head and the rocking motion has made me feel a tad off balance for the first few moments that I’m back on solid groud. Walking around it, at a distance, gives me the opportunity to see it from the other side of the windshield. To see it as the whole, and not just as a passenger or a driver.

Doing so causes me to sigh with a smile of comfort and conviction, because it refreshes my memory as to the many reasons I do so love this classic, regardless of the costs required to keep it running. Because this was something we built from scratch, my wife and I, and it has taken us places, every day, we’d never have travelled to without it.

Sure, some places have been rocky, treacherous, and greatly challenging, especially when the car was going a bit faster then we expected. We’ve slid when we’ve hit patches of ice, we’ve weathered storms where we could barely see the road ahead, and we’ve run into a few close calls with head-on collisions as well as our share of fender benders. I won’t even begin to try and count how often we’ve run out of gas or barely made it into a filling station, or how often we’ve had to ask the other one to take the wheel for awhile out of sheer exhaustion, disorientation, or simply to prevent an oncoming moment of road rage.

Yet we’ve also been surprised to find ourselves in places who’s grandeur defies words. We’ve found ourselves in what were once were familiar places, and have seen them anew, with a fresh perspective from angles we’d not have reached without this vehicle to get us there. We’ve journeyed in this to a barren pasture, planted seeds, and watched them grow under our care. We’ve met others along the road, driving in their own contraptions, and have made wonderful friends through our shared experiences. We’ve traveled in this to places that have allowed us to learn more about ourselves and our lives that we would have never know had we not ventured down a path only this could take us on.

And for me personally, I’ve learned a great deal about the value to be found in taking what might appear from afar as a rough and tumble ride, by just getting in, turning the key, and pressing the pedal. OK, perhaps it took some coaxing. And yes, it’s been rough and tumble, alright. But so are most of the journeys to places of great heights, beauty and wonder. And as many a fellow traveler or explorer will tell you, it’s not always about the destination. The person that climbs the face of a mountain will likely not summarize the experience simply down to the short time spent at the top, but far more on getting there and back.

Quoting the ancient chinese proverb, “The journey is the reward”

And it has been.

Every second Saturday of the month, there is an electronics flea market at a nearby community college. I’ve been once before, and it was like taking a stroll down electronics-memory lane. Everything from old voltage meters, reel-to-reel tape decks and radio tubes, through turntables, early model Powerbooks, PalmPilots ,software packages like Aldus Persuasion, and all the way up to last generation Airport Extreme base stations can be found there. In many cases, If I didn’t know better, some of this crap was likely once mine, or even my father’s. It’s a small little event in a sectioned off part of the parking lot. Tthe sellers seem to be of a rather worn-’n-torn variety, and the shoppers are seasoned geeks and aging ham radio operators.

Somehow, although I don’t quite feel like I completely belong, I still feel somewhat strangely at home.

In the ham radios and voltage meters, I smell the must of my father’s workbench, feel the hardening rubber surrounding red and black alligator clips I’d tinker with, and hear the firm audible click of the dials and switches I’d turn to various settings, never having a clue about what they’d do or why. And in the interim booths, I recognized turntables and 8-track players, and a darkroom timer identical to one I used for years. I find vinyl albums warping in the heat of the summer sun, with covers I instantly recognized, including “Face The Music” by ELO and the original broadway cast recording of “Jesus Christ Superstar”. I see 90’s Apple hardware, including things I used in my work and international travel, groundbreaking in their day, which now seem as antiquated as the tube based radios a few aisles back.

I took my camera with me yesterday morning on a solo journey to walk the rows lined with memories, and was struck by how many things I felt a history and connection to, as well as the idea that the stuff I walked right passed without any interest might likely mean the world to somebody about to stumble across it in the next few minutes.

I don’t hoard things. I don’t hang on to too many items that no longer serve a purpose, regardless of the importance or history they might have to me in decades to come. I have a few mementos of people, places and times gone by, but they fit in a box or two at the most. So having the opportunity to casually saunter about a wide range of things from one’s past can bring a moment of reflective comfort during the chaos of dealing with the present and looking towards the uncertain future.

Here’s a few photos I took along the way.

You may tire of me
As our December sun is setting
‘Cause I’m not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes
These wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below
Who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for
Both a beginning and an end
But now he lives inside
Someone he does not recognize
When he catches his reflection on accident

Remember that prior post about the sun? Well, our cars [and pretty much everything else] were covered with ashes this morning.

It seems another fire is burning in the mountains, and walking out of the house tonight, the sky was filled with a dark haze, causing the sun to turn a redish-pink. it was incredible. it was stunning. it was mind blowing. it was cause to pause and reflect on the fleeting beauty that nature, especially it’s abstract and unexpected nuances, is.

“Advice columnist and widowed father of three Dan Burns (Steve Carell) has met someone new. Marie (Juliette Binoche) is beautiful, she’s smart — and she just so happens to be the girlfriend of Dan’s brother Mitch (Dane Cook). With a publicly recognized moral compass, Dan finds himself torn between reaching for happiness and keeping the peace in his family. Dianne Wiest and John Mahoney co-star in this romantic comedy from director Peter Hedges.”

Geoff’s Comments: I’ve not posted reviews of movies for awhile. I’ve watched several, but not made me feel like commenting on them, but this was different. I really enjoyed this. It was a simple story with a nice theme, good humor, and a “big Rhode Island family” that made you long to be a member of it.

[ rent Dan In Real Life via netflix.com ]