Branching out into Palm WebOS development
Among the many inconveniences that plague those among us cursed to be generalists -- Shiny Object Syndrome, Incomplete-project-disease -- perhaps the most troubling (or at least the most costly) is the sheer amount of gear necessary to delve into all of the areas that interest us. As a parent, I've all but left behind the halcyon days of multiple guitars, bicycles and pairs of skis -- one of each, two tops, will have to do for now.
But as a developer, particularly a developer of mobile applications, a growing collection of smaller-than-a-computer internet-connected devices is a much more justifiable luxury. Having spent a good amount of time over the last couple of years learning to write iPhone apps, I had more or less ignored other platforms until I attended Joshua Marinacci's excellent presentation on Palm's WebOS at July's Mobile Portland meetup.
Since their acquisition by HP, Palm's developer stock has understandably risen, as we can apparently look forward to seeing WebOS grace devices of a variety of shapes and sizes in the not-too-distant future (Josh was careful not to spill any beans, but made some coy allusions to forthcoming tablet-like products from HP). So, WebOS has gone, in my book, from a niche player to a platform that deserves exploration.
I was impressed with my first real look at WebOS, but also, in particular, with the relatively free rein Palm has given to developers (compared to the somewhat more restrictive and ceremony-wrapped Apple development and deployment process). Enough so that I've decided to take the plunge and try writing some WebOS apps. Apparently the learning curve isn't nearly as steep as it is with iOS, so we'll see how quickly that translates into results of which I can be proud.
In the meantime, the gearhead in me rejoices that a new platform means an opportunity for a new toy... er... test device. I picked up a used Palm Pixi Plus, their entry-level smartphone, on eBay, and have been putting it through its paces. Not bad so far. The UI is pretty slick -- and if I wasn't so used to and enamored by iOS, I could certainly see using it day-to-day.
Bonus: I'll offer one tip to those of you who happen to use an iPhone as your main device, but want the ability to hop your SIM around from phone to phone in order to test your apps on different devices without having to pay for more than one mobile plan. This was considerably easier before Apple started using micro-SIMs in the iPhone 4 -- you could simply pop the SIM out of your iPhone, and into any other device you wanted to use to test your apps. With the form factor change, this is more difficult, but not impossible.
Pick up one of these: http://microsim-shop.com/ -- about six bucks (depending on the exchange rate with the Euro on any given day), and it works like a dream. Just pop your micro-SIM into the tray, an it'll load into a phone that takes a standard-sized SIM. It works fine in the Palm. I'll let you know how it works in an Android phone once I get there. I don't know how AT&T feels about the practice of SIM-hopping, but it seems to work, so there you go.
And now, to write some Palm apps... gotta come up with something more user-friendly than the earth-destroying "Death Ray" app that Josh demo'd at the Palm event...
My Ignite Talk
Twitter Etiquette
I know we're in the infancy of a new communication technology with short real-time burst communication formats like Twitter and SMS, but I really, really hope it doesn't take us as long to establish basic rules of conduct and courtesy as it did with the telephone and e-mail.
The ubiquity of instantaneous, short-format communication is sometimes used to give sloppy etiquette and inconsiderately-timed interactions a free pass. But, we've had phones in every home, on all the time, for generations, and mobile voice communications for decades now. When presented with a clear framework of accepted norms, we've proven ourselves (most of us, anyway) capable of respecting personal boundaries and exercising common courtesy.
However, these norms revolve around channels that have always been understood to be real-time. Now, advances in device technology have brought communication formats that we've been given to think of as asynchronous to us in real-time. SMS notification of new Twitter direct messages is a great example of this -- I don't receive an SMS every time I get a new e-mail (that would be awful!), but Twitter DMs are infrequent enough -- and typically time-sensitive enough -- that I usually want to be notified of them right away.
Unless, of course, the person at the other end of the Twitterphone has different standards of conduct, or ideas about what the appropriate use of direct messages is.
With SMS, in particular, standards of conduct are evolving because adoption and use of SMS are still evolving (at least among Americans). Sometimes, when I go to text a family friend regarding logistics -- whether we're going out together for the night, traveling together, or what have you -- and my wife will gently remind me that "not everyone texts, you know". This has largely ebbed as, well, just about everyone texts these days. Still, I was pleasantly surprised when texts started arriving from my father (the Nexus One probably had something to do with it).
So, as we continue to evolve our standards of communication etiquette, I'd like to propose a few simple rules that, I hope, will help keep us all on civil terms. Ahem:
- Please, please, please reserve Twitter DMs for time-sensitive, personal communication. If you want me to know about your new book, your company's product, your band's gig, or your cat's birthday, and @-reply will be just fine. Don't worry -- I'll see it.
- If you're going to DM me, it would be, you know, courteous of you to follow me back so I can reply. Do you know what you are when you can call me, directly, anytime, to tell me about your product, but I can't call you? A telemarketer, that's what. Give that a ponder.
- If you're going to send a welcome message thanking me for following you, an @-reply is probably just fine, unless you've got a specific, private question to ask. If you don't bother to follow me back, and your DM-spam arrives in the middle of the night (when I have my phone nearby, you know, for emergencies), you know what that makes you? That's right -- a telemarketer that wakes me up in the middle of the night. Probably not what you intended.
- If you use SMS extensively, particularly (as is increasingly the case) in place of voice mail (which, don't get me wrong, I appreciate), it's likely a good idea to make sure the person you're texting has unlimited SMS (I do) or at least an unlimited plan. And a nice rule of thumb is not to text at an hour when you wouldn't call -- they have the same effect, as far as intrusiveness is concerned.
Bottom line -- SMS and Twitter are not e-mail, folks. Please stop treating them as if they were anything less than what they are -- real-time communication.
Out with the Old…
We're knocking on the door of a new year, so it's list season, for better or worse. Rather than swim against the current, I'll join in. In my opinion, it's high time for a list of things not invited back to 2010. Here are my let's-leave-it-in-2009 candidates. Enjoy.
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Cable television
Comcast, you and me are through. Oh, I know, you've provided me with years of passable high-speed internet service, but you know what? I just shaved 65% off of my combined phone/internet/TV bill by ditching your useless Crippled Basic Cable TV service and all-you-can-eat long distance digital voice. My 21st-century-rabbit-ears-and-government-subsidized-digital-tuner handle the former, and my mobile phone handles the latter, just fine, thanks.
Furthermore, as you may or may not have noticed, anything and everything I could want to watch in the way of TV shows is now available online or on Netflix, at my convenience and on my schedule. There's more to watch than there is free time to watch it. It's just that *almost none* of it is on your crappy basic cable channel lineup. Channel surfing is so 20th century.
And you know what else? I know exactly what you're up to when you buy NBC-Universal the same day that you start a "voluntary pilot program" metering bandwidth use in Portland. I can see where this is going, and I don't like it one bit.
Buh-bye.
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Old Media Whining about New Media Eating Their Lunch
Adapt.
Die.
Pick one.
"Complain" is not on the list. (Nor is "summon monsters", so don't go running to Congress trying to get your antiquated business model protected as a historic structure or something cute like that).
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"Information overload"
There is no more "information overload" now than there was pre-Internet. The problem is that our filters are broken or not properly configured.
For generations, we've been processing the equivalent of terabytes of unwanted data in the form of billboards, radio and television commercials, bad stand-up comedy, and interminable anecdotes from co-workers. Despite this deluge, we've managed to adapt psychological coping mechanisms that have kept most of us out of the looney bin.
To complain that having a few inboxes to check and text messages to respond to is some kind of hardship is a rather entitled and self-centered point of view. Rather, consider thanking the bright folks who keep coming up with new ways for you to filter all of this wonderful content coming your way -- they're making it easier to ignore the sources of noise mentioned above. And I don't know about you, but being bombarded by a stream of information from people I know and care about that forces me to ignore the stream of information from people trying to sell me something is progress in my book. Bring on the overload.
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"Marching orders"
We are not in the military. The client is not a general (thank god).
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"Social Media Strategy"
I don't want to "engage" with your "brand". I want to buy shit from you. Maybe. We will, in time, look back and laugh at the notion of corporations spending good money trying to buy a soul in the form of "social media strategic consulting" from some expert.
Oh, hell. Why wait. Let's laugh now.
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Big, ugly, plastic sunglasses. On men.
Seriously. Can "sleazy chic" die forever now? Because it's really, really just sleazy.
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Cutesy Job Titles, Descriptions, and/or Requirements
Let us have no more posts seeking "Ninja" this or "Rock Star" that, unless they involve, respectively, killing people, or playing the guitar and dating supermodels. Because you know what? Building Flash-based websites requires neither the use of throwing stars, nor Marshall stacks.
OK, throwing star push pins, maybe. But lets keep it non-lethal, kids...
OK, that's it. I'm done complaining, and I'm ready for the rush of pure joy as we turn over the odometer, clean the slate, hit the reset button, and retread all the tired old renewal metaphors once again. Breath in, breath out. Wax on, wax off. See you on the other side.
Ninety Percent Perspiration
Disclaimer: As someone who makes his living implementing technical systems, I'm naturally biased towards the "implementation" side of the idea/implementation equation. Notwithstanding the foregoing, I also spend a fair amount of professional time ideating, and assure my readers (both of you) that I am sympathetic to both sides.
In the course of my professional life, I am presented with a great many richly-detailed and enthusiastically-presented ideas (but of course -- who on earth can help but think that their child is the cutest?). Sometimes, the presentation of these ideas is preceded by the traditional Kabuki of the non-disclosure agreement (NDAs are a topic for another day... don't get me started or I might violate one by accident...), sometimes not. Regardless of relative secrecy, the idea-presenters typically have one thing in common -- they almost always think that their brainchild is unique and special, while simultaneously holding the belief (frequently without benefit or burden of technical training necessary to determine so) that the details of its heretofore imaginary implementation will amount to a list of relatively simple tasks to be executed... by someone...
In short: The idea is unique and special. The implementation, however, should be "easy".
(I have trained myself, in the interest of decorum, to refrain from jumping in at this point in these conversations and inquiring as to why the parent of the brainchild in question has yet to implement it themselves.)
This misconception can often lead to a concomitant and proportional misconception as to the appropriate relative weighting of interest in a proposed enterprise, but that, like NDAs, is a topic for another day.
The topic for today, rather, is a pair of related rules that I would like to propose:
First, the "Math is hard" rule:
The unique specialness of a given idea varies directly with the difficulty of its implementation.
and second, the "Underpants Gnomes" rule:
The value of an idea varies directly with the amount of its implementation that has been completed.
(There is a third rule, probably more apropos of a post on NDAs -- the "infinite monkeys" rule -- which states that any idea good enough that you've started trying to implement it is also being worked on by at least two other people you've never met, but I'll leave that one for another day as well).
To recapitulate my disclaimer, and armor myself against the pitchfork-toting hordes quick to label me a techie snob: I am not dismissing the concept of the value of an idea, and certainly not the value of inspiration. I'm simply applying a sensible discount to the value of a given idea, based on a couple of measurable factors: how hard is this to implement? And how much have you already built? If the answer to these questions are "trivial" and "nothing", I contend that the value of the idea naturally approaches zero.
This is not a bad thing.
Unless it's your idea, and you're trying to trade it for an equity stake in something. Then it might be bad for you.
But it's still good for the commons. As long as you don't over-value it or hold on to it too tightly.
This was made clear and plain to me in a blog post that made me smile -- participants in a recent startup weekend event came up with 999 business ideas (naturally, they're of varying value) -- and unceremoniously loosed them on the world, free for the taking, to be implemented as the reader sees fit. Or not.
Awesome. I wish I had time to do some of these.
And there, my friends, is the rub -- the single most precious non-renewable resource in the universe is time. Execution, not inspiration, is the rate-limiting step, in nearly all cases.
In that vein, I present the first (of many, I hope) freely-offered no-strings-attached idea, yours for the taking. Do with it what you will. Or not. If you take this one and run with it, send me a postcard or something.
I've been pondering this one since i saw the following:
I couldn't agree more. Particularly since Amazon started blowing out great albums at $5 a pop, so much of my music is purely digital now. With my vinyl records and CDs, I can -- sometimes -- scratch the "who played that amazing part?" itch by going to the shelf. With MP3s, I'm left guessing too frequently.
Furthermore, as an admitted, unrepentant, unreconstructed music and recording snob, I frequently want to know not only who played on an album, but who produced it, who engineered it, where it was recorded, and as much of the minutia, myth, and legend surrounding its creation as I can find. The 33 1/3 book series is absolutely fantastic for this, but the obvious problem here is one of scaling -- there's no way that 33 1/3 will ever cover a significant portion of my record collection (nor should they), so these exegeses are a rare treat (particularly the volume about Paul's Boutique... but I digress).
It seems to me that, in iTunes or the equivalent, I ought to be able to source this kind of metadata for any track playing. I mean, I'm connected to the Internet all the time, right? And this information is out there.
So, the idea -- it's pretty simple, really -- a comprehensive online database of metadata regarding the personnel, recording staff, and circumstances surrounding the creation of each album and single out there. Much of this data already exists in Wikipedia, particularly for better-known albums, but it's not necessarily structured. A "placeholder" for each album could be gleaned using the Wikipedia API, and user-generated structured data could be added, much in the same way that the Gracenote CDDB was originally created. Over time, the crowd could refine and add to this structured pool of music metadata, which would be linked to tracks and albums similarly to how CDDB track listings are linked (based on track index / track time). The CDDB could even serve as the base of records from which to start.
As this pool of data is added to, the experience of each album could become that much richer, perhaps allowing for addition of user-generated imagery.
I have no idea how anyone would make money from this. But I know it would be incredibly useful to me, and the legions of other music freaks out there.
Anyone?