One of the things I’ve become very accustomed to is using a server. Having multiple computers (and using them all) makes this the only way to not lose your mind (or track your work). For my 3D work, it’s one host PC (the littlest, an older Shuttle) with fat drives that hold all project files and renders in progress. All the other 3D workstations feed from and vomit back to this main host. Same thing with writing, using the Apple desktop as host. All the main writing apps I use (TextEdit/WordPad/whatever for  rtf’s, then OpenOffice, Final Draft, Celtx for further devel) are cross-platform. So I can use whatever laptop I want (please). Backups run regularly on each server, Apple’s Time Machine being the most whizbang. Groovy.

But what about when you wanna take your laptop with… As in, out of range of your wifi? Enter DropBox, a bitchin’ — and FREE — little setup that automatically mirrors everything you put in the Special Folder. Mirrors it not only to each computer that has it installed (it too is x-platform), but also to a secure, offsite server. 2GB storage space is free; any extra, you pay for. Something I’m working on that I want to continue offline at a remote location? Stick it in the DropBox folder, go away, work on it. When I get back online (anywhere), it will auto-sync with whatever other computer is online as well (at the very least, the remote  server). Honorable mention definitely goes to Google Docs, now featuring an “offline mode” that mirrors your cloud documents on your hard drive. Very nice!

My, I’m ridiculous. I’ve been using my little ThinkPad X41 for a long while now, full time (for writing — desktops handle the heavy lifting). So today I planned to eBay the MacBook I bought earlier last year. The sexy black MacBook with the rippin’ cpu, 2G of ram, 250G hard drive, etc. Etc.

Well, I choked.

Okay. I don’t like touchpads. It’s a little big. And heavy (4 lbs vs. 2.7). But holy shit, there’s nothing like doing without to make you appreciate the finer things in life. If you’re going to be stuck with a touchpad, THIS is the farking one to be stuck with. Taps that consistently register, two-finger anywhere scrolling… It “just works,” like all things Apple.

And the look of — well, EVERYTHING. Fonts that render smooth (not fuzzy) and track properly. When oh when will anyone else (I’m looking at you, Ubuntu) start to understand that this matters… God, I tried not to care, and for the most part, when I’m lost in writing, it doesn’t. Very much. But having what you’re looking at be beautiful is just… Well, it’s a good thing.

X41:

1. TrackPoint: A writer’s best friend (no removing fingers to navigate).
2. Size/scale/weight. It’s wafer thin and eensy.
3. 4:3 screen ratio. Makes best sense for writing (who needs “cinema” ratio for vertical pages?)
4. Old school charm; it’s old, it’s cheap, it works. Something cool about that.

MacBook:

1. OSX — beautiful, smart and godlike font (and everything) rendering.
2. Screen sharpness/clarity/brightness (despite widescreen ratio making the whole thing Too Big)
3. Keyboard and touchpad light touch, reliability and accuracy.
4. Overall solidness and sleekitude… The T-pad “CLACKS” closed; the M-book simply closes.

So I’m back on the MacBook and damn it’s nice. Oh, I’ll probably “get tired of” this one again at some point (I would imagine even Brad goes through this), but that just seems to be the way it is. I suppose it’s fun switching, configuring, etc. Getting XP up to a place that worked for me was interesting. I think I may try it all over again once “Windows 7” (?) is ready for prime time. Gah.

Okay, so one of the MANY things Apple got right is the way the mouse cursor automatically disappears whenever you start typing. Makes sense, doesn’ t it. I mean, why the hell would you want the stupid cursor to BLOCK YOUR VIEW of what you’re typing? Which is exactly what I’ve been dealing with, here in XP land. I know the wizards at M$ made this an option in the Mouse control panel, but that “feature” only works (of course) in M$ apps. In other words, if you’re working in Final Draft or OpenOffice (as I do, mostly), then you’re shit outta luck.

Until now. I searched and searched, and finally found Desk Angel, an amazing and yes, FREE little wonder of a utility that throws this life-altering feature in as an afterthought (!), along with a very intuitive, OSX-style screen grab utility and many others. These two are the only features I need and use and I am eternally grateful for William for finally making it true. And free. Thanks!

As a lifelong (and still active) Apple Fan, I find myself in a strange place. Writing now occupies a large portion of  “what I do” on computers, and I am really digging IBM ThinkPads more and more. The reason being, as I have come to realize, is that I am a nipple man.

The downside to this affliction, for an Apple Fanboy like me, is that this means using Windows (or Ubuntu — a problem if you’re relying on apps not native to Linux). Gah. But with some (okay, a LOT) of tinkering and tweaking, I’ve come up with an XP-based laptop I really like. So much so that after a few months, when I experienced the inevitable pang to “go back,” and did, the glorious OSX experience wasn’t enough to keep me there. Minutes later, I was back on my little X41 and loving it. So I now have a sweet, new(ish) black MacBook just sitting there. Egad. I may even sell it.

When my wife and I married, we opted for a courthouse hitch, a trip to Paris, then a backyard celebration with close friends and family. One of the reasons to marry at all, we believed, was the involvement of people we care about in the declaration and promise of marriage. To that end, we came up with a plan (riffing off and expanding on ideas we’d seen elsewhere)…

Each attendee at the party would be assigned a word, something we agreed a great marriage should have — humor, authenticity, etc. The recipient would be someone who somehow symbolized the attribute to us, and would henceforth be a reminder to us to sustain and empower that aspect of our union. I hand-tooled the words onto the little candy tins everyone had at their assigned seats, and… It was a hit. Curiosity about everyone’s “word” led to a series of impromptu speeches by all. The evening was completely amazing and wonderful.

One guest has followed through in a particularly enjoyable way. Our friend James, who snow-boarded and mountain-climbed and things like that, represented “adventure” for us, and to this day we receive snapshots from around the world reminding us to be adventurous. And while neither of us has taken him up on his offer to join him in paragliding {gulp}, it sure is fun to hear about — and, as we did today,  receive pics of him actually doing  (yes, those are his feet).

One of the odd little items my father left behind was a very interesting and beautiful hood ornament. I didn’t know where it came from, but  it was found among his belongings and I wanted it. It’s heavy, and old (much more weathered than the one pictured here). I have long planned to mount it on a proper base… But there was something about this regal little creature just lying on its side that seemed, I don’t know, more appropriate somehow. More a  relic of a bygone age. Just how bygone I never knew.

Until recently. Ava Gardner came onto my radar a few weeks ago. Of course I’d heard the name many times and seen some pictures, but I stumbled across some amazingly timeless images of her in various noir settings, and Holy Shit. Looked like some of these were taken last week. So we rented The Killers and watched it. There she was. Ava the Goddess.

In one of the earlier scenes, Burt Lancaster pops the hood of a big, fancy sedan by lifting up on a lovely ornament. My lovely ornament. The movie was set in ’34, so I searched 1933 hood ornaments, and there she was. With, it turns out, quite an amazing pedigree. From a 1933 Cadillac Phaeton V16. Fitting that I should learn the details in ’08, the flying gal’s 75th anniversary. She’s known as “The Goddess,” and is patented. I don’t know how my father came upon it, but now I certainly know why he kept it. And why I shall keep it as well.

I’m hanging out a lot in Windows land these days (only reason: diggin’ writing on the ThinkPad). A few tweaks and what the heck, I can switch between OSX & XP machinery without too much culture shock.

Then I decided it’d be nice to find a free little text editor with FTP capabilities (like the awesome TextWrangler on Mac) that I could use for quick remote web tweaks/fixes/whatever.

ZOMG. WTF. &%#@. Okay, well, there are many. It’s Windows, for fuck’s sake. But almost every single one I found is an unusable POS in some regard… I won’t bother with an itemized diss on those that didn’t pass muster (Jedit, CoffeeCup, Cpad, Crimson Editor, PSPad, SuperEdi), except to say that what stopped me with most was s-l-o-w (or F’d up) FTP functionality. Or sometimes, a hideous, virtually unusable interface.

Then I found Source Edit. Simple, lean, and useful. Like TextWrangler, it has lots of tools for hardcore coders (unlike me), but also includes a nice set of basics for those of us that just want to get in-get out without a lot of rigamarole. So here is my geek PSA for anyone searching: Try it first.

This fun site came to my attention recently, and the reading is good. Says the host, “My name is Tara and I live in a van. Down by the river. And I dance nekkid for money.”

Tara has apparently settled down somewhere recently, but the site offers a wealth of accounts from past adventures. Her writing is warm, down-homey, and crisp. Not to mention drawn from some pretty fascinating material. She also includes plenty of how-to tips. For example, how to stay safe. Or pee. When you live in a van. Down by the river.

For the record, I’m a mostly-OS-agnostic Mac snob who uses PCs a LOT for work, which is 3D animation (Win2K) and writing (Linux or XP on my laptop of choice, an IBM ThinkPad).

It came to me the other day. Here it is:

Windows (and most PC hardware) is designed by engineers.

OS X (and Apple’s hardware) is engineered by designers.

That’s it.

What about Linux? Engineered by engineers, unfortunately. But lately (thank god), they’ve been talking to designers!

I recently re-discovered a marvel of a song, ’39*, written and sung by Brian May and friends on Queen’s We Are The Champions LP (the one with Bohemian Rhapsody). At first blush, the song sounds like a Queenly retooling of a traditional folk tune, a tale of intrepid sailors setting sail for new lands. But May also happens to be an astrophysicist, and if you listen closely, you’ll hear a heartbreaking sci-fi story involving space travel at near-light speed and the tragic consequences of a phenomenon called “time dilation.”

The first verse sets the scene. In XX39, 20 souls are sent to find a new home for mankind, as their own world’s ability to support them dwindles:

In the year of ’39 assembled here the volunteers
In the days when lands were few
And the ship sailed out into blue and sunny morn
Sweetest sight ever seen
And the night followed day and the storytellers say
That the score brave souls inside
For many a lonely day sailed across the milky seas
Ne’r looked back, never feared, never cried

“Milky seas” is the first tipoff that this isn’t about sailing in the ordinary sense. The chorus confirms, with:

Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away
Don’t you hear me callin’ you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I’ll take your hand
In the land that our grandchildren knew

Many years away suggests a journey beyond miles, and our narrator looks forward to seeing his lover again “in the land that our grandchildren knew,” the future world of their children’s children.

The second and final verse answers any questions that remain, finishing with a devastating reveal:

In the year of ’39 came a ship in from the blue
The volunteers came home that day
And they bring good news of a world so newly born
Tho their hearts so heavily weigh
For the earth is old and gray, little darlin’ we’ll away
But my love this cannot be
For so many years have gone, though I’m older but a year
Your mother’s eyes, from your eyes, cry to me

The year is again XX39, 100 years hence, and our hero returns with good news — but is saddened to find his world “old and gray.” Furthermore, now returning to “the land that our grandchildren knew,” he finds that as a result of the near-light-speed of his travels, he is only “older but a year,” though “so many years have gone.”

It pains him to see whoever it is welcoming him. Who is it? It seems to be the daughter he left behind, now fully grown, in whose eyes he sees her mother’s… But unless she is 100 years old, I imagine it is his granddaughter, one of the “grandchildren” the chorus repeatedly references. So the lover he left behind is long gone, leaving only his memory of her (as her “letters in the sand” have long since washed away). After this final revelation, the song ascends into a final chorus, ending with a tragic lament to his long-lost love, and finally, anyone who will listen:

…all your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand
For my life still ahead, pity me.

* why “39”? Well, someone, somewhere, counted. Apparently, if you tally every recording by Queen, on every album, this is the 39th. Try not to freak out. Click here for the chord chart — sing along!