Tech and Ramen

It turns out that I underestimated the unrelenting power of my illness. Today marks the one week anniversary of infection, and the nation known as Stomach is slowly starting to tally the casualties and gain an understanding of the scope of destruction. The rebuilding process will take dedication, sacrifice, and unquestionable patriotism, but I’m sure that the citizens are willing to do what it takes to see the glorious nation regain its seat of power. It’s been rumored that the same plague is ravaging distant lands and is slowly spreading through the outer realms of the universe.

Restaurants that serve both sushi and spaghetti ought to be passed over without second glance.

I’m not one to put stock into fate; however, I am aware of the balance that the universe seems to maintain. The idea behind logical balance is simple; flip a coin 1,000 times and it’s very likely that the number of heads will be very close to the number of tales. Why is this? The odds are that odds are always accurate. It may take a million flips of a coin, but eventually the flipper will have a similar number of heads and tales. Some well wishers use this idea to console a person who is having a bad time; “just hold on, things will get better.” Unfortunately, the odds of the universe can’t be applied to an event that is largely dependent on human perception. A certain number of “bad days” does not indicate that an equal number of “good days” are coming, because “good” and “bad” are defined by previous experiences. Winning the multimillion dollar lottery everyday for a week may make for a “good day,” but winning $5 from a scratch-off on the 8th day may make for a “bad day,” even though this would normally be an awesome event. A depressing time is a time where the bar for “good” is raised too high. Fortunately, this same idea also applies to the opposite extreme.

I laid in bed for two days, shivering, unable to eat, and nursing a massive caffeine headache. The fetid cocoon eventually dissolved, and cautiously emerged from the state of delirium. I remember the first journey outdoors and the indescribable pizza that followed. The sweetness of my freedom was directly proportionate to the size and weight of my broken shackles. I’m fortunate in the fact that my life is relatively steady. There aren’t very many terrible surprises, and there’s stability in my work and social lives. Sometimes I forget this; I complain about things that most would find insignificant, and I take for granted all of the amazing things and people that I have the privilege of dealing with daily. It’s only after those rare times of hardship or bodily warfare that I realize that I’m still free to gaze upon the stars, unfettered by serious physical ailments, or other circumstances that would prevent me from chasing any dream I choose. I hated being sick, but that’s given me passion for being well and taking advantage of it. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to face true hardship. I’m oblivious to the goings ons of the Easter celebration, but there was a news story about a woman who brought together a group of Harlem kids to form a choir. She wanted them to feel the joy that music could bring and understand that there are indeed ways to bring joy to lives that seem irreparably broken. Here I am, reflecting on a two-day stomach bug and how sweet it tastes to be free from its torment, and other people in the world are simply trying to understand what it feels like to be free from torment.

Roger Ebert linked to this video last week, and I’m blow away every time I watch it. Regardless of situation, it’s always nice to be reminded of the beauty at life’s core.

Secret worlds were revealed on sick days. The house had a certain glow, and there was something magical about daytime television, soap operas excluded. Everything seemed forbidden, and life shifted into a kind of delicate limbo. These were times when spelling tests were put on hold, and responsibilities simply vanished.

Sick days are portrayed in a romantic light in films; although most times these days are not acquired by sick people but by people avoiding some deadline or seeking some type of sport car adventure.

I remember the death of the sick day; it occurred during a battle with the chickenpox. I was itchy, but excited at the prospect of a day full of cartoons and sugary cereal exploits. All was well until “the assignment,” which is also referred to as the “death blow.” It was Black History Month, and my class was tasked with coloring pictures of the famous Dr. King. It was an easy, almost negligible assignment, but its significance was clear; I could no longer escape the world through the “sick day.” It was the second grade, and the delicate veil that surrounded my childhood was already starting to tear.

The plague seems to have consumed me, but life goes on unaffected by my piddly problems. The culprit is unknown, but may have been bad curry. Regardless of the merciless sickness and my temporary house arrest, there were still quizzes to be taken and assignments to be done. I think it’s safe to say that Ferris would have lead a social revolution to destroy the digital drop box. I long for the days when the world seemed to stop whenever I needed a break. I miss grilled cheese and tomato soup and the ability to lay on the couch with my dog, watching hours upon hours of cartoons. I wish sickness still acted as a pass, but those “sick days” will always be remembered with both fondness and a tinge of sadness.

One of the beauties of being a senior is having the opportunity to take filler courses, i.e. courses that fulfill no requirement besides providing hours for full-time student financial aid. I’ve been itching to take a photography class for quite some time, and now I finally have the opportunity. The first assignment is simple enough; take 25 nature/landscape pictures that use the compositional techniques discussed in class. Currently I’m sitting in the car and typing on my iPhone while waiting for the pictures to be developed.

I needed a few more shots to complete my 25 picture set, so two of my friends and I decided to explore a local park after sunset, which is apparently frowned upon by local authorities, who shall from here on be referred to as “The Fuzz.” Continue

It’s a dangerous time for 3rd party Twitter developers. Let’s face it, Twitter’s been a #dickbar lately, and the tongue lashings have left many devs wondering if it’s even worth developing Twitter applications.

Fortunately Tapbots hasn’t been deterred by API threats.

What could Tweetbot have to offer that makes it worthy of being paid for? Gestures are well implemented, and this is a nice touch in a world where the swipe is all that most apps rely on. It’s easy to access a tweet menu by simply tapping on the tweet, but double tapping on the picture leads to the user profile and double tapping on a link leads to the inn-app browser. The triple tap is customizable, and the default is set to reply to a tweet. Tweetbot allows users to access conversations that include the tweet by swiping right and related tweets by swiping left. All of these useful gestures are met with fluid animations, which is particularly shocking for a 1.0 release.

Tweetbot is incredibly intuitive. The bottom menu buttons change to reflect the profile and posts of the on-screen user, so there is very little confusion when it comes to navigation. The last two nav buttons are customizable. There’s still plenty of room for additional features; however, the 1.0 version of Tweetbot supports all of the basics, including multiple accounts. It’s even possible to set a list to display automatically instead of a full timeline, and this can be changed at anytime by simply tapping the top bar.

It’s obvious that this app has been in development for some time, and it especially shows in the polish. Tweetbot departs from the stock navigation design, and it’s much cleaner looking than apps that utilize the default nav bars. There are little touches such as animations on the login screen, and none of these detract from the speed of use.

As of now, Tweetbot is on par with the official Twitter app in terms of features, but it would be unreasonable to expect a 1.0 app to conquer an application that has been on the market for some time. Tweetbot’s useful gesture implementation just makes sense, and that’s more than can be said for comparable apps. The features will come with time, but as for now Tweetbot reminds us that there is still room to grow in an app market that has long been considered saturated.

My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I’m in my proper atmosphere; then I can dispense with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exultation.
~Sherlock Holmes

The fight with stagnation can only be won with creation. It’s unfortunate that this mental battle relies so heavily on an abstract idea, and it’s even more unfortunate that I spend quite a bit of time trying to define it. I can’t simply rely on a deity, who’s plausibility I find laughable, to provide a purpose; therefore, I must find a meaning through the tangible and concrete. For so long, humankind has relied on the creation of physical things to obtain feelings of fulfillment, because the creation of products and tools directly and positively impacted society. This began to change as thinkers emerged from the tribes. It’s almost laughable to imagine the first great thinker; he must have been looked upon as one lazy summa’ bitch. To be honest this thought plagues me. Is it possible to find purpose amidst the creation of ideas rather than objects? As far as I’ve reasoned, the answer to this depends upon both personal satisfaction and audience.

Why do I find satisfaction with baking but not with creating objects in AutoCAD? There’s love in baking. Pastries are made to be shared, and even a small morsel can drastically improve someone’s mood. An AutoCAD drawing of a block may, at some point, become a block, but there is not love in this. At one point in the country’s history it was fulfilling to work for 40 hours every week; the act in itself was fulfilling. Companies can no longer provide life-long security to their workers, so the idea of being a full time cog is growing less appealing. Being an artist is the only way to find security, because skill is independent of location. The need for unskilled labor will always permit settling, but it is artists who will find the best opportunities, or make them for themselves.

Seth Godin defines an artist as someone who desires to change someone’s mind through a medium. A person’ art could be anything from a painting to a conversation. Both sculptors and salesmen can be artists, and both should be equally valued. Admittedly, listening to Seth Godin has helped me to fill in the gaps in my logic. The part that’s been missing from my chain of logic is the idea that the creation is irrelevant, but the emotion that it evokes is the most important part.

Creating a painting once required much more work that simply moving a brush across a canvas. The intricacies of canvas making are beyond me; however, artists used to have to stretch and frame their own canvases before they could even begin to paint. There was a huge level of commitment that kept the average person from dabbling. Currently, the only commitment that one needs to make is a time commitment. Technology has made it possible to paint on digital canvases, take digital pictures, and write digital prose. Some see the digitization of art as a cheapening of art; I’m beginning to see it as the liberation of the artist. This means that everyone can be an artist, but very few people are. Art requires completion and very few people bother to complete anything. I could write half of a novel, but if it never sees completion or changes a single mind, then I cannot be considered an artist. Art must be emotion, and emotionless creations are not art.