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Chris Rawson
213 followers -
Word mercenary.
Word mercenary.

213 followers
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Wow, what the hell happened to Google+ ? The new (to me) UI is as ugly as a not particularly attractive thing.

I guess Google decided to steer away from the "Facebook, but slightly less crappy" design aesthetic and go in more of a "let's find out what's at the bottom of this bottle of gin" direction.

So this place still exists, eh?

I am failing pretty hardcore at NaNoWriMo. Just under 20,000 words when I should theoretically be at about 31,000 by now. Stupid real life, always in the way.

On the plus side, what I'm writing now is good enough to survive beyond November and this strange little annual shenanigan, so even if I won't make that magical 50k by the end of this month, I at least have something I could potentially transform into a worthwhile novel at some point.

Speaking of which, I'm going to be uploading a short story collection to both the Kindle Store and the iBookstore sometime before the end of this year. Just need an ISBN for the iBookstore first.

"Can you give me your serial number so I can compare build dates for [really long story]?"

Um, no, you may not have my Mac's serial number, strange person from Hong Kong. You can have its build date (Feb. 2008) and my best wishes, but th-th-th-that's ALL, folks!

There's no arguing against falling asleep at your desk. Once it comes to that point it's really time to (write about it, then) go to bed.

Virtually everything I do on a daily basis involves a bit of technology that Steve Jobs either designed or influenced.

I owe my current livelihood to the company he built, and virtually every computer I've ever used or owned had his stamp on it, from that first Apple II in Saudi Arabian kindergarten all the way to the MacBook Pro I'm typing this on from New Zealand, and the iPhone 4 at my left side, and the iPad 2 on my right.

As a writer, virtually every word I've created has been born on a Mac. Every photo or video I've taken has been edited and stored on one. In my public speeches, I have deliberately swiped Jobs's speaking style and presentation skills, and as a result I've gained ovations at every presentation I've given.

I think back to what technology was like when I was a little kid, and I look at it now, and the world of 2011 bears as much resemblance to 1977 as 1977 did to 1877. Steve Jobs had a vision, and he had the brains to gather fellow visionaries together, and together they changed the world forever.

I always wished I could meet the man, shake his hand, and tell him "Thank you" in person. Now, like virtually every other person I've grown to admire and respect, I will never get the chance. Steve Jobs now joins a hall of great artists and geniuses like Mark Twain, Albert Einstein, John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Henson, Gene Roddenberry, Kurt Cobain, and Douglas Adams — all great people who have had a profound influence on my life, but who will never know it, because I can never tell them.

The candle that burns twice as brightly burns but half as long, and you burned so very, very brightly. Goodbye.

Putting finishing touches on ebook. Now I need an ISBN and some tax info or something like that. Then I can put my work out there on the iBookstore and Amazon and watch in hushed wonder while no one buys it.

My naming conventions:

Computers and major electronic devices: Misanthropic silver robots.
Mac = Gort, iPad = Marvin, iPhone = Bender, and so on.

Wi-Fi networks: Booze.
802.11n = Alpha Domus, 802.11g = Rawson's Retreat.

Animals: Spices.
Cat = Licorice, Dog = Caraway.

Children: None yet.
I wanted to name one Control and the other Experiment, but the wife won't let me.

If you're using a notebook computer with a notebook-class HDD, then your life sucks and you don't even know it. Just put an SSD in a 3.5-year-old MacBook Pro, and the damn thing feels brand new now. It's so fast and silent that it's almost bewildering.

I'm done with spinning platters as my main drive. Solid state all the way, never look back.

My dog is a creature of simple needs. Lots of affection, strict discipline, food custom-made in a slow cooker, daily 17 km runs... hmm. Perhaps I should revise: My dog is kind of a pain in the ass sometimes.
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