Conditions and such are pretty much what you would expect from a factory in China. In fact, compared to conditions outside the factory, the workers seem to have it pretty good.

Although, the nets around many of the buildings are a bit disturbing.

That’s just the “circle of life” or something. Anyway, that leads me to recent developments. One of these developments has to do with my search for the perfect way to make coffee at home.

Some of you may be shocked and wonder how I could betray my beloved Starbucks, Coffee Bean or various other establishments I frequent. It’s simple, really, I just want to do it at home so I get used to working at home again. I would also like to save some time where I can too.

On a busy morning, if I have to take the time to stop at Starbucks or wherever on the way somewhere else, it can often take quite a bit of time. So, in the interest of efficiency (and to save a buy or two, let’s face it) I’m going to make coffee at home.

During a previous attempt at this I had purchased one of the Tasimo devices that makes coffee from a capsule. The results were less than stellar. In fact, the coffee kinda sucked.

This time around I’ve done much more research and committed to a much better solution. At least I think it is.

I’ve decided that the only way to make it work at home is to get the best coffee maker you can get. That one, if you ask pretty much anyone who knows anything about it, is The Moccamaster.

That’s a picture of it right there. Nice, huh.

I expect this little beauty to arrive early next week and I will report back on how awesome it is. Yes, I expect it to be awesome.

In other news, I am also trying something else again that I had tried several years ago: going all-laptop and having no desktop Mac.

At this moment, I have two computers. One is a 27″ iMac and the other is my 13″ MacBook Air. I’m am giving the iMac to a worthy person (selling, actually) and will be using the MacBook Air exclusively from this point forward.

However, this choice does present a few problems. The first of which is my iTunes library is way too big to fit on the Air. So, for the moment, it will have to reside on an external drive. Not ideal.

Second, my iMac also served as the media and print server for the house. With it gone, certain people are going to have to go upstairs and connect to the printer via usb if they want to print. Also, not ideal.

So, that means I will most likely have to get some sort of computer to use as a file, media, print server and iTunes repository. That will most likely mean a Mac Mini.

Before you ask, I’m not considering a Windows or other solution at the moment. We’re too invested in Apple tech at home to try to make that work right now. Maybe if I get some more free time I can put together a nice Windows server instead.

For now, it will probably be a Mac Mini running Apple’s Lion Server that will take on those duties at home. Plus I would like to work with Lion Server a bit more so the new Mini serves that purpose as well.

Of course, if I’m going to be using the MacBook Air as my only machine from this time forward, I kinda think it should be the latest model, don’t you? Just go with me here, okay? The one I have know is a 13″ 2.13 Ghz Core 2 Duo with 256 GB SSD.

I feel a newer 13″ MacBook Air i7 would be better for the tasks to come. Plus, I would like to give my previous generation Air to someone I think will like it. Yeah, that’s good reason.

So, lots of changes coming in my tech world. Fortunately, I don’t mind change all that much — especially when it brings newer, shinier toys.

So far, it’s going well. I’ve managed to be more productive and also managed to enjoy some quality time doing as little as possible. I’m well on the way to achieving that balance I was looking for.

Another thing I would like to do more of in 2012 is take photos. With the iPhone 4S it should be very easy. The camera is great and there are several apps that help to make the pics look cooler. One is Instagram, which is what the pic above is.

I highlighted some of those apps and some of my latest photos in an earlier post. Now that 2012 is here, I’m going to be doing more with these apps and trying to take a few photos each day.

I’ve done this experiment before (taking a photo a day for thirty days I mean) and it seemed to go well. I will try to make it last longer this time around. We’ll see how it goes.

How’s your 2012 going so far?

I think in the spirit of trying to make things work, and also challenging myself a bit, I’m going to try to use the iPad 2 as a writing/blogging tool as often as I can. Let this post serve as the first-ish example of that.  
 
I say -ish because I’ve already done at least one or two with the iPad 2, but that was before. Now, I’m going to take it more seriously and consider it more of an experiment, or test , then I did before.  
 
One of the first questions to ask when embarking on a journey such as this is do I use the built-in keyboard on the iPad 2 or do I use an external one? It’s an important question because, to be honest, my fingers do get kinda sore when using just the iPad 2′s touchscreen keyboard.  
 
However, that may be more a function of the fact that by the time I start using the iPad I’ve already been typing for a few hours. Maybe my fingers would hurt no matter what? I suspect they would.  
 
So, with that in mind I think I will try to use the touchscreen keyboard for now and see how it goes. I’ve got an extra Bluetooth keyboard I could use but that sorta defeats the purpose of using the iPad if you have the also lug around a keyboard.  
 
At any rate, I’ll know soon enough if my fingers can’t take it and then I will consider other options. Fortunately, as I discussed in an earlier post, the rest of the writing/blogging experience shouldbe pretty good on the iPad 2.  
 
I guess I’ll find out.  
 
In case you’re the sort of person who likes to know the more technical, nuts and bolts kinds of things, I’m going to list the tools I will be using during this experiment. Here they are:  
 
Apple iPad 2 (of course) – Apple’s device excels at so many things and has a battery that lasts a long time. It has become an indispensable part of my daily work (and fun).  
 
Blogsy – This is the primary blogging app I’m using. It allows for complete control over posts and offers the ability to insert photos and video. Pretty much everything you need and pretty easy to figure out and use.  
 
IResize – This is a great app that allows you to resize images to fit in a blog post or other writing. You can load any picture from your Photos on the iPad and change the size, resolution, etc. and then save the changed version for use in other apps like Blogsy.  
 
IAWriter – This app let’s you get back to basics and just write. It removes distractions and lets you focus on the words. Plus, it syncs with Apple’s iCloud and its own OS X desktop version to allow you to work on whatever you want and have it available on the iPad or your Mac with whatever changes you’ve made already there and synced.  
 
Other tools:  
 
Pages – Appple’s own writing App is pretty good and I used it quite a bit before IA Writer and Blogsy came into the picture. Now I use it less frequently, especially as oit doesn’t support sync across the mobile and desktop versions using iCloud as IA Writer does. At least not yet.  
 
FDX Reader – Sadly, my favorite screenwriting app Final Draft doesn’t have and iPad version yet. I’ve been assured one is on the way, but until then, I still need to use the MacBook Air when I want to write in Final Draft.  
 
However, I can at least read scripts in Final Draft format (instead of PDF) on the iPad by using the terrific FDX Reader app. This app allows you to load scripts written in Final Draft and saved as .fdx files and view them in their native format. Very useful and saves you the time and effort of saving scripts as .pdf files plus if your a writer on the go or collaborating with another writer it also makes it easier to quickly review the current draft.  
 
So, this is my challenge and those are the tools of choice. Of course, figuring out what you want to do and choosing the tools to accomplish a task is often the easy part. 

The hard part is doing the actual writing. I’m goin’ in, wish me luck.  
 
 
 

This was written by Steve Jobs sister Mona Simpson and given at a ceremony for the late Apple co-founder and all-around genius. I thought it was worth reposting and preserving here for me, and for you.

—

I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.

Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.

By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild.

This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.

When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.

We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.

I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.

I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.

Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.

I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.

Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.

That’s incredibly simple, but true.

He was the opposite of absent-minded.

He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.

When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.

He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.

Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.

For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.

He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.

His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”

Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.

He was willing to be misunderstood.

Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.

Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.

Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”

I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”

When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.

None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.

His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.

Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.

Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.

When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”

When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.

They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.

This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.

And he did.

Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.

Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.

Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?

He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.

With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.

He treasured happiness.

Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.

Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.

Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.

I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.

Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.

“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.

He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.

I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.

Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.

One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.

I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.

He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”

Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.

For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.

By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.

None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.

We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.

I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.

What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.

Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.

He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”

“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”

When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.

Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.

Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.

His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.

This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.

He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.

Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.

He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.

This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.

He seemed to be climbing.

But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were:

OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.

Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.

Other times, I need to look elsewhere for what I need. Today is one of those days. So, to help me move forward and do what I need to do, here’s a little inspiration from my man Steve Jobs.

Whatever you may think of him or Apple, he certainly knows his way around public speaking. We could all hope to be this good at something someday.

Money quote:

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice, heart and intuition.”

Yep. I needed that.

Also, as time goes on, look for more about my experiences with the new iPhone 3G. Meantime, here’s a nice pic of the new device side by side with the old one. FYI, the new one is the one the left. You can tell because its slightly wider and also has that cool “3G” logo in the upper left corner.

Yes, yes I did. If you happen to be curios as to my reasons, head on over to TUAW and take a look at the article I wrote explaining it all. Apparently, judging from the number of comments (almost 140 I think so far) this particular topic appears to be one of interest. Check it out.

It was a whirlwind week for me at Macworld in San Francisco. I saw so many interesting new products and met so many great people it’s almost impossible to contemplate. What really comes across, though, during my week there is the Mac community as a whole and just how nice everyone is. Gracious, intelligent and extremely pleasant people seem to gravitate towards the Mac and I, for one, couldn’t be happier about it.

It’s really hard to pinpoint a highlight of the show but if I had to pick one (or two) one would have to be meeting Merlin Mann and getting a chance to chat with him for a few minutes. We did an interview with him for TUAW but before and after we got to talk a bit off-camera. Good times with a great, funny and articulate man. I also got the chance to meet Walt Mossberg of the Wall Street Journal, Chris Breen of Macworld Magazine and a whole host of other sharp and Mac-loving people.

Also, another highlight was the famed Cirque Du Mac party featuring a great band, great drinks (especially because they were free) and great company. Thank you Laurie D., Nik F., Victor A., Isiah C. and David C. for making that night extra fun. And, of course, another highlight of the show for me was getting to meet the great people I work with at TUAW for the first time in person. I know it may seem odd but we’ve been working together since last May and up until last week I had never met any of them face to face. In fact, we had never even spoken on the phone very much except to plan the first Talkcast and when we actually record the Talkcasts (at least the ones I’m in).

Other than that, it’s just been email, IM and Twitter most of the time. How very futuristic, right? Scott McNulty, Michael Rose, Nik Fletcher and Victor Agreda from TUAW are all stand-up guys and some of the nicest, most gracious and funny people I’ve been around in a long time. Their humor, brains and talent are in so many ways humbling to be around. It’s a real privilege to get to work with them and I appreciate it even more now that I’ve had a chance to meet them all in person.

In most cases I really prefer talking to people in person most of the time. Although, communicating via email, IM or Twitter is a great to avoid actually having to communicate at all. In fact, in some cases you can pretty much avoid all communication by simply ignoring these types and not responding. I think I’ll start calling that “Zero Communication” or something like that. Could catch on. Maybe.

If you get a chance head on over to TUAW and check out the continuing coverage of Macworld and see some of the video I shot last week. Also, I’m posting pics at Flickr (at least some) and even managed to churn out a few TUAW posts so check those out too.

All in all a fun time in SFO @Macworld 2008 and something I hope to have the privilege to do again next year.