New Amazon Kindle Experience

I’m an industrial designer and have been using PDA’s in some flavor or another for the last 12 years. My first was a Palm Personal with only enough memory to load part of a book at a time. I read perhaps a 100 books on a greenish-grey screen of 160 pixels square. All of the Arthur Conan Doyle stories, Edgar Rice Burroughs and more. Classic stories and novels that I didn't have time (or money to buy the books) when I was younger. Project Gutenberg became one of my favorite websites. Project Gutenberg

Since then I’ve had many others PDA's, but starting with those that had color LCD screens, none was as satisfying as my grey-scale Handera 330 with its 480x320 screen. It was a bridge to better PDA’s, but those color LCD PDA's were not necessarily better for reading, as folks on the Kindle development team discovered. As I’ve gotten older, reading on screens like my iPod Touch have become more and more of a strain, along with the distractions of a multi-purpose device. It's far too easy to waste time playing Solitaire rather than read. This is one of the reasons I decided to go with the Kindle versus the iPad: the iPad is fine for a go-anywhere tablet-cum-computer, but it's too heavy for an eReader, can't be read in sunlight and costs too much.

The first Kindles to be released were too expensive for me, but by generation three, as we have seen, the price had dropped, features had improved and I felt ready to take the plunge. So far most of my experience has been good. The device is superb for reading books (its intended purpose), at least those that can be read in a linear fashion, like novels. For books that are used in group study where one might be constantly flipping back and forth between pages and paragraphs, not so good, as the pagination with printed copies isn’t the same. Amazon Kindle 3G + WiFi

I’ve been VERY impressed with the screen, both the resolution and the contrast. I thought 800 pixels by 600 pixels wouldn't be good enough, but so far, so good. The readability is wonderful in all kinds of light, even in light that would be too dim for a printed page. Something about the e-Ink screen background surface seems to amplify the available light.

The size is great, though the weight with the lighted cover, at one pound even, is a little more than I would have liked. Still, it’s highly portable and well protected. The lighted cover works well and I don’t have to carry a separate light or worry about batteries. Battery drain when using the lighted cover is another thing: one can really see the indicator drain down.

However, even with the positives, I’ve had some negative experience with spontaneous resets of the device, for no apparent, repeatable reason.

I've experienced what I would call "severe" freezes and resets trying to use PDF's on the K3. I was able to show several PDF's of varying sizes to a coworker one morning, then a spontaneous reset and they were no longer accessible, even though it appeared the files were still list on the Home screen. I assumed they'd been corrupted or something else.

I called Amazon CS, but the lady (though nice) was not able to resolve my issue, because she'd had no experience with PDF issues. I told her that I simply wanted them to be aware of the problem, and she thanked me.

I tried doing a "hard reset" (holding the power switch for 15 or more seconds), but that didn't help. I ended up doing a reset to factory settings (losing all of my loaded books, etc.) and had to reset my Kindle user name on the Managing My Kindle web-page as well as reinstall everything from scratch.

To give this another shot, I printed an email to PDF and mailed that to the Kindle. I have a suspicion that crashes might have something to do with the fact that my PDF's (of varying sizes) were loaded into sub-folders (Collections). I just looked again the small file I emailed works fine, but it's file size is VERY small.

I have reloaded all of the PDF’s that were deleted after the "reset to factory" debacle yesterday. For the time being, I have been VERY careful to open them and not do anything else, letting them open FULLY. So far (knock on wood) they all work, BUT WiFi is off, which in itself is a little weird, as it was on before I established a USB link with my computer and loaded the PDF's. After ejecting the Kindle, it was turned off, as was 3G, which seems to be spotty in my building.

After reading other people’s experiences, I'm actually afraid to turn WiFi back on, for fear it will crash my new, marvelous toy. So far, the files seem to be working, but WiFi is off as well, whether or not it contributes to the problem.

I tried doing some universal word searches, so am guessing that my unit is completely indexed. I have a graphite 3G + WiFi unit with a couple dictionaries, about 18 books, a couple JPG's and one small PDF loaded at the moment. No big, huge collections; no compilations...

I *really* do not want to return my unit and am hoping that there will be a firmware fix for this problem.

I sent a letter to the Kindle team and got an email response back asking me to leave my phone number, so they could call me and set up remote access to my Kindle to see if they can figure out what's happening. Worse-comes-to-worse, I know they'll send out a new unit, but fixing this one would be preferred. More to come...

My Review of Swiss Army Minichamp

Originally submitted at REI

This versatile knife features a retractable pen that allows you to use the pen without removing it from the knife.

Swiss Army Minichamp

Great, All-Purpose Knife

By TechJunkie from Lynnwood, WA on 8/17/2010

 

5out of 5

Gift: No

Pros: Durable, Versatile, Sharp Blade

Best Uses: Home, OfficeWork, Camping

Describe Yourself: Casual/ Recreational

This is a great, all-around pocket knife that I've owned for about three years. Of the many Victorinox knives I've owned, from the smallest to the largest, I still keep the Swiss Champ in my computer/commuter pack, but this smaller Champ is by far the best one I've owned. Not because it can do everything, but because it has a good suite of tools and functionality in a small package. It's the one that I'm most likely to have with me all the time.

The small Philips is great for computers and around the office and the ball-point pen is useful in a pinch, though one wouldn't write more than a few sentences with it. One of the tools not listed is a cuticle-pusher. This is NOT a knife that I'd use in the woods or camping, but for a tag-along in a pair of slacks, it's perfect.

Living in a pocket it can get dirty and linty, but that's easily remedied with some warm, soapy water and a toothbrush.

(legalese)

There Can Be Only One...

... at least that's the tag line for the movie "Highlander". Short premise of the movie (and series) is that there are these immortals that run around killing each other with swords. They're immortal, and as long as they don't get their head lopped off they recover from their wounds. If they DO behead a fellow immortal, they gain that person's powers. For THESE immortals, life is bittersweet, as the mortals they befriend die while they go on living.

One of the "big" thoughts that's been going through my mind is that we as humans tend to think of our life on earth, death and that's it. But in reality, we don't just pass out of existence. We're IMMORTAL from the time that we're conceived. Our "death" is simply a transition from one part of our immortality to the next.

God made us in His image. That means that we spirits like Him and have a mind like His, emotions and a need for relationship. God created us as immortals, but death was given as an act of mercy after the Fall, so that man would not live forever in a fallen state, like the "Highlander" I mentioned above.

The rub for us is that we can ignore this fact. We can pretend that the "afterlife" doesn't really exist. We can say we don't believe in God. Whatever form of denial we take, the truth is always the same: we are immortal souls clothed in mortal flesh. That's the paradox and we live our lives in futility if we believe that this life here and now is all there is.

Recognizing the fact of immortality brings about a question: where will I spend eternity?

I believe that my faith in Jesus as Christ (Messiah) and Savior gives me an answer that I can count on. I will spend eternity with Jesus, serving him and enjoying Him forever. For my life on this earth, the recognition that I'm truly immortal NOW gives me hope for the future and hope as I see my body becoming older, aging before my very eyes, year after year. It's not that aging doesn't matter; it does. But I feel that I've gained a sense of perspective.

That's part of the answer to what life "on the downhill slope" is like. It ends up being a matter of perspective.

I got a chance to see a stage production of "The Great Divorce" by C.S. Lewis this past week. I've read the book before and was really challenged by it. What stood out the most this time through it was a quote from George MacDonald, who was a real-life mentor for Lewis, but appears in the play/story as a guide. He says (and I paraphrase) "that for the one that accepts God and His promise of eternal life, heaven works "backwards", turning even past agonies into glory, while the one that rejects Him will find that even their prior existence on earth was truly hell."

And that's the big thought. As a believer in Jesus and of His sacrifice on the cross for me, I don't have to wait for heaven; I'm already there. I am already a part of God's growing family. I already share an inheritance with Jesus. My "death" will simply be a transition, leaving this fleshly body for a time, to be joined with it again at the time of the Resurrection.

If I keep this in mind, then I can approach old age, with its aches, pains and suffering with confidence, even though it will be hard. I can do this not because of a force of will, but through Christ.  In reality there is no end, eternity is now and I can live my life in the hope that thought brings. Instead of worrying about becoming older and approaching death, I am freed to, like the Apostle Paul, run the race set before me, seeking to finish well.

AMEN!

Season of the Bike

By Dave Karlotski.

(A short, well-written synopsis of why I ride a motorcycle...)

There is cold, and there is cold on a motorcycle. Cold on a motorcycle is like being beaten with cold hammers while being kicked with cold boots, a bone bruising cold. The wind's big hands squeeze the heat out of my body and whisk it away; caught in a cold October rain, the drops don't even feel like water. They feel like shards of bone fallen from the skies of Hell to pock my face. I expect to arrive with my cheeks and forehead streaked with blood, but that's just an illusion, just the misery of nerves not designed for highway speeds.

Despite this, it's hard to give up my motorcycle in the fall and I rush to get it on the road again in the spring; lapses of sanity like this are common among motorcyclists. When you let a motorcycle into your life you’re changed forever. The letters "MC" are stamped on your driver’s license right next to your sex and weight as if "motorcycle" was just another of your physical characteristics, or maybe a mental condition. But when warm weather finally does come around all those cold snaps and rainstorms are paid in full because a summer is worth any price.

A motorcycle is not just a two-wheeled car; the difference between driving a car and climbing onto a motorcycle is the difference between watching TV and actually living your life. We spend all our time sealed in boxes and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us from home-box to work-box to store-box and back, the whole time, entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.

On a motorcycle I know I'm alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of that fall through them. I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than Pana-Vision and than IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard. Sometimes I even hear music. It's like hearing phantom telephones in the shower or false doorbells when vacuuming; the pattern-loving brain, seeking signals in the noise, raises acoustic ghosts out of the wind's roar. But on a motorcycle I hear whole songs: rock 'n roll, dark orchestras, women's voices, all hidden in the air and released by speed. At 30 miles per hour and up, smells become uncannily vivid. All the individual tree- smells and flower- smells and grass-smells flit by like chemical notes in a great plant symphony. Sometimes the smells evoke memories so strongly that it’s as though the past hangs invisible in the air around me, wanting only the most casual of rumbling time machines to unlock it. A ride on a summer afternoon can border on the rapturous. The sheer volume and variety of stimuli is like a bath for my nervous system, an electrical massage for my brain, a systems check for my soul. It tears smiles out of me: a minute ago I was dour, depressed, apathetic, numb, but now, on two wheels, big, ragged, windy smiles flap against the side of my face, billowing out of me like air from a decompressing plane.

Transportation is only a secondary function. A motorcycle is a joy machine. It's a machine of wonders, a metal bird, a motorized prosthetic. It's light and dark and shiny and dirty and warm and cold lapping over each other; it's a conduit of grace, it's a catalyst for bonding the gritty and the holy. I still think of myself as a motorcycle amateur, but by now I've had a handful of bikes over half a dozen years and slept under my share of bridges. I wouldn't trade one second of either the good times or the misery. Learning to ride one of the best things I've done.

Cars lie to us and tell us we're safe, powerful, and in control. The air-conditioning fans murmur empty assurances and whisper, "Sleep, sleep." Motorcycles tell us a more useful truth: we are small and exposed, and probably moving too fast for our own good, but that's no reason not to enjoy every minute of the ride.

I found the following to be fascinating when it was shared by our pastor, Dr. Neil Trainer this past Sunday. For those who are interested in how one's religion affects their walk on this earth, it's very instructive.

FRONTIER THEOLOGY

BY WES SEELIGER

  "There are two views of life and two kinds of people. Some see life as a possession to be carefully guarded. They are SETTLERS. Others see life as a fantastic, wild, explosive gift. They are PIONEERS. The visible church is an outfit with an abundance of settlers and a few pioneers. The invisible church is the fellowship of pioneers. To no one's surprise there are two kinds of theology. Settler theology and pioneer theology. Settler theology is an attempt to answer all the questions, define and housebreak some sort of "Supreme Being," establish the status quo on Golden Tablets in cinemascope. Pioneer Theology is an attempt to talk about what it means to receive the strange gift of life and live! The pioneer sees theology as a wild adventure, complete with indians, saloon girls, and the haunting call of what is yet to be.
  The Wild West offers a stage for picturing these two types of theology. Settlers and Pioneers use the same words but that is where it stops. To see what I mean--read on."


THE CHURCH
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the church is the courthouse. It is the center of town life. The old stone structure dominates the town square. Its windows are small. This makes the thing easy to defend, but quite dark inside. Its doors are solid oak. No one lives there except pigeons and they, of course, are most unwelcome.
  Within the thick, courthouse walls, records are kept, taxes collected, trials held for bad guys. The courthouse runs the town. It is the settler's symbol of law, order, stability, and most important--security, The mayor's office is on the top floor. His eagle eye scopes out the smallest details of town life.
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the church is the covered wagon. It is a house on wheels--always on the move. No place is its home. The covered wagon is where the pioneers eat, sleep, fight, love, and die. It bears the marks of life and movement--it creaks, is scarred with arrows, bandaged with bailing wire. The covered wagon is always where the action is. It moves in on the future and doesn't bother to glorify its own ruts. The old wagon isn't comfortable, but the pioneers could care less. There is a new world to explore.


GOD
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--God is the mayor. The honorable Alpha O. Mega, chief executive of Settler City. He is a sight to behold--dressed like a dude from back East, lounging in an over-stuffed chair in his courthouse office. He keeps the blinds drawn. No one sees or knows him directly, but since there is order in the town who can deny he is there? The mayor is predictable and always on schedule.
  The settlers fear the mayor but look to him to clear the payroll and keep things going. The mayor controls the courthouse which in turn runs the town. To maintain peace and quiet the mayor sends the sheriff to check on pioneers who ride into town.
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--God is the trail boss. He is rough and rugged-full of life. The trail boss lives, eats, sleeps, fights with his men. Their well being is his concern. Without him the wagon wouldn't move--the pioneers would become fat and lazy. Living as a free man would be impossible. The trail boss often gets down in the mud with the pioneers to help push the wagon which frequently gets stuck. He slugs the pioneers when they get soft and want to turn back. His fist is an expression of his concern.


JESUS
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the sheriff. He is the guy who is sent by the mayor to enforce the rules. He wears a white hat--drinks milk--outdraws the bad guys. He saves the settlers by offering security. The sheriff decides who is thrown in jail. There is a saying in town that goes like this--those who believe the mayor sent the sheriff and follow the rules won't stay in Boot Hill when it comes their time.
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the scout. He rides out ahead to find out which way the pioneers should go. He lives all the dangers of the trail. The scout suffers every hardship, is attacked by the Indians, feared by the settlers. Through his actions and words he shows the true spirit, intent, and concern of the trail boss. By looking at the scout, those on the trail learn what it really means to be a pioneer.


THE HOLY SPIRIT
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is a saloon girl. Her job is to comfort the settlers. They come to her when they feel lonely or when life gets dull or dangerous. She tickles them under the chin and makes everything O.K. again. The saloon girl squeals to the sheriff when someone starts disturbing the peace. (Note to settlers: the whiskey served in Settler City Saloon is the non-spiritous kind.)
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is the buffalo hunter. He rides along with the wagon train and furnishes fresh, raw meat for the pioneers. The buffalo hunter is a strange character--sort of a wild man. The pioneers never can tell what he will do next. He scares the hell out of the settlers. Every Sunday morning, when the settlers have their little ice cream party in the courthouse, the buffalo hunter sneaks up to one of the courthouse windows with his big black gun and fires a tremendous blast. Men jump, women scream, dogs bark. Chuckling to himself, the buffalo hunter rides back to the wagon train.


THE CHRISTIAN
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the settler. He fears the open, unknown frontier. He stays in good with the mayor and keeps out of the sheriff's way. He tends a small garden. "Safety First" is his motto. To him the courthouse is a symbol of security, peace, order, and happiness. He keeps his money in the bank. The banker is his best friend. He plays checkers in the restful shade of the oak trees lining the courthouse lawn. He never misses an ice cream party.
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the pioneer. He is a man of risk and daring--hungry for adventure, new life, the challenge of being on the trail. He is tough, rides hard, knows how to use a gun when necessary. The pioneer feels sorry for the town folks and tries to tell them about the joy and fulfillment of a life following the trail. He dies with his boots on.

THE CLERGYMAN
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the bank teller. Within his vaults are locked the values of the town. He is suspicious of strangers. And why not? Look what he has to protect! The bank teller is a highly respected man in town. He has a gun but keeps it hidden behind his desk. He feels he and the sheriff have a lot in common. After all, they both protect the bank.
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the cook. He doesn't furnish the meat--he just dishes up what the buffalo hunter provides. This is how he supports the movement of the wagon. He never confuses his job with that of the trail boss, scout or buffalo hunter. He sees himself as just another pioneer who has learned to cook. The cook's job is to help the pioneers pioneer.


THE BISHOP
  IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the bank president. He rules the bank with an iron hand. He makes all the decisions, tells the tellers what to do, and upholds the image of the bank. The settlers must constantly be reassured of the safety of their values. The bank president watches the books like a hawk. Each day he examines all deposits and withdrawals. The bank president is responsible for receiving all new accounts. This is called "the laying on of hands."
  IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the dishwasher. He does the chores so the cook can do his job. He supports the cook in every way possible. Together the cook and dishwasher plan the meals and cook the food provided by the buffalo hunter. They work as an interdependent team in all matters related to cooking. Humming while he works, the dishwasher keeps the coffeepot going for the pioneers. Though the dishwasher has an humble task he is not resentful. All pioneers realize that each man's job is equally important. In fact, in the strange ways of the pioneer community, he is greatest who serves most. (A bishop is the servant of the servants of God. If the servants of God are cooks, what else would a bishop be?)

Life on the downhill slope...

So what's that all about?

On this side of 50, most thinking people realize that they've lived MORE of their life than they have left. It's the other "side" of life. Not worse necessarily, maybe better, but definitely different than when one is 25 and looking forward to a long and hopefully, healthy life.

This is a place for me to "think out loud" about the ramifications of the latter half of my life and what I do with it. John Bunyan, the author of "The Pilgrim's Progress" espoused an idea of "dying well". Even though I look forward to many more years on this earth, I think I now know what he meant, whereas 25 years ago it would have gone right over my head.

My kids are gone. Well that's not quite true, as my daughter has moved back in with us to attend graduate school. My career is at it's peak. I'm at an age (52) where if I were to lose my job, it would be very difficult to replace my salary. Age discrimination is a very real thing. Let's hopefully not go down that road.

That said, I really don't intend to ever stop working. Retire from my current job of course; when, I don't know. But as a professional designer, I hope to always be able to either do freelance work or something else. Earlier in my career, my profession defined who I was. These days I'm looking for a different definition: Husband, father, friend, disciple of Christ. I hope that my life counts for more than the 8 to 5 grind and a gold watch and then the slow strangulation of retirement. Too many people retire to die. I want to retire to live.

And that, Charlie Brown, is what it's all about.