gedblog

Anyone who’s worked for themselves knows the satisfaction of being in control of your own destiny. The perception that by sheer force of will and hard work, you can be successful at what you do. Those who take on the challenge of owning their own business are often considered “control freaks” and more often than not, perfectionists. I never really realized just how much of a control freak I was until this past weekend when, completely without warning, I had none.

Last Friday, the Iconfactory’s popular Twitter client, Twitterrific, fell victim to the so-called Twitpocalypse bug, which caused the mobile version of our application to suddenly stop working. Thanks to the efforts of our talented engineer, Craig Hockenberry, a fix for both versions of the client was submitted to the App Store within a day. To Apple’s credit, the free version of the fix was approved swiftly and allowed the majority of our users to continue tweeting with minimal interruption. And although the Premium version of the application was also approved in record time, the displeasure from our user base, not surprisingly, came even quicker.

From the moment the bug hit, both Talos and I had begun monitoring tweets of users mentioning Twitterrific in their posts. What started as a trickle, soon turned into a deluge of upset and frustrated users. We began responding to individual tweets and Travis, our project manager, responded to support emails. The Iconfactory is a small company, we’re not Adobe or Google or even the Omni Group. All three of us did our best to let users know what was going on, and thanks to hundreds of RTs, word started to spread about the bug and our efforts to combat it. Unfortunately, Twitter is a very big community and it was impossible to personally respond to everyone. Even now, there are many people on Twitter who don’t know why their copy of Twitterrific isn’t functioning and there is very little I can do about it.

The best we could hope for was that the majority of users followed @twitterrific and would eventually receive news about the fixes. The troublesome part is that although I know the majority of users now have a working version, I still feel uneasy knowing there are potentially thousands that don’t even know about the fix. Part of this is due to the lack of communication channels, and part is due to the nature of the App Store approval process. As developers, we must turn control of our applications over to Apple to have our iPhone software published. This process can take days or weeks and until it runs its course, our hands are quite literally tied. By the time updates are published it may already be too late.

All of us at the Iconfactory count ourselves lucky that Apple recognized the seriousness of the bug we were facing and pushed through the Twitterrific updates as quickly as they did. We know we messed up and we thank the App Store team for helping to pick us back up off the floor. That being said, I didn’t sleep much in the days after the bug hit because there was a part of me that knew hundreds of tweets were flying by every hour from Twitterrific users I was powerless to help. As with most control freaks this usually means even more work, more testing and more diligence to guard against these kinds of catastrophic failures in the future. But that’s okay with me since I’m not anxious to give up this level of control, or sleep, ever again.

Last night I watched our new President-Elect, Barack Obama, give his acceptance speech to a crowd of over 150,000 people gathered in Grant Park and millions more around the globe. I’ve been a strong Obama supporter from day one, but I really didn’t think I’d actually break down and cry. As Barack spoke to all of us, my mind raced and my heart slowed. I could feel the fear and anxiety that have been my constant companion for the last 20 months melt away.

Earlier in the evening I and a few friends exchanged tweets regarding just how nervous we were for Obama. When the news came that media outlets were calling the election in favor of Barack, I rejoiced but part of me didn’t believe it. The specter of loss sat next to me right up until John McCain gave his concession speech and quelled the boos of his supporters. In that moment McCain reclaimed much of what he had lost. I saw the man I had respected and admired break through the fear, uncertainty and doubt he and Palin had helped to sow. When McCain left the stage to return to his former life as an elder statesman from Arizona, it was then that I felt a wave of peace wash over me.

Like so many other Americans, I’ve been worried about Barack. Worried that harm would come to him. Worried that America wouldn’t step up and make the right choice. Worried that we would again choose the politics of fear instead of hope. All that worry had washed away as Obama took the stage in Chicago. Despite speaking from behind walls of 2 inch thick bulletproof glass, all I could see was the man. All I could hear were his words. He appealed to the “better angels of our nature” and reminded us that we have a steep climb in the days and years ahead.

Through all this I sat and listened. At the very end, after the on-stage goodbyes had finished, you could see Michelle hanging way back waiting for Barack. She was proud, but also calm. I saw myself in her and knew that her fear and anxiety had dissolved just as mine had. In this moment, she was all of us, waiting for him to take our hand. Barack walked to her and just then Michelle touched his face, gave him a kiss and they walked hand in hand into a new and hopeful future together.

That’s when I started crying.

I took off from work today to head to the early voting location near the Iconfactory. I arrived at the Leonard Recreation Center on Ballinger Rd. around 4pm. I went inside to find a line of about 100 people stretching from the voting room to the gymnasium, and so I took my place at the end of the line. As I settled in, I started the chronometer on my iPhone to see just how long it would take to get to the front. Although the line was long, it did seem to move right along. People were in good spirits and I saw many young and African American voters come into the gym and head to the back of the line.

While in the gym, I was able to check my tweets and email and generally stay busy playing games and surfing the web. As I got near the front of the line more and more people started to come in, presumably trying to beat the rush before 5pm. When I reached the voting room, the nice volunteers took my name, printed my voting confirmation sheet and then asked me to wait for a free machine. To my surprise, the gentleman who showed me to my station recognized me and said “I know you, you’re the “icon man!” I’m not sure if he recognized me from past years voting in Greensboro or from the Fox 8 piece that aired a few months back. Either way it was a pleasant surprise and he and I chatted for a bit before I actually set about the business of voting. He explained to me that the rec center had been processing about 900-1100 voters per day for the last week and a half.

He gave me my instructions and warned me about voting separately for the presidential candidates if I chose to do a straight ticket and then we parted ways. I was very proud to press the button that was labeled Barack Obama / Joe Biden for President and Vice President of the United States. I double, then tripled checked it was correct and then set about voting on the rest of the ballot. I skipped many of the local judges since I wasn’t familiar with them.

When I confirmed my choices and stepped out the exit, I looked at my iPhone’s chronometer and it read 38 minutes. Time had really flown by there in line and the poll workers knew their job very well so all in all I had no problems. I was pleased to see so many of my fellow North Carolinians voting early. But most of all, I was happy that for the first time in recent memory, I actually had a candidate that I was proud to cast my vote for as President. Many people in line were smiling while they waited, I could tell the mood was upbeat and positive. I think many of them were voting for Obama too.

Lately I’ve found myself addicted to apples. No, not the kind that I usually write about, but an actual piece of fruit. You know, the kind you eat? I only recently discovered Gala apples and ever since I first had one at Panera Bread a few months ago, I can’t get enough of them. Ask any of my friends if I’m the type of guy that can be seen with a heart healthy snack in his hands and they would likely belly-laugh and tell you to go away.

Lately I’ve been warming up to the idea of eating more fruits and vegetables and the unassuming Gala apple has been leading the charge. If you’ve never had one, next time you’re in the produce section try and pick one up. They are softer than most apples with a thinner skin and a slightly sweeter taste than most. Developed in New Zealand in the 1920s by orchardist J.H. Kidd, Gala apples are a cross between a Golden Delicious and Kidd’s Orange Red. They resist bruising and are quite easy to eat. Even if you don’t particularly enjoy apples give them a try. They’ve easily become my new favorite snack and they could become yours too.

They say kids can be cruel and that’s never more true than when you have an unusual name. Growing up, I knew my parents had named me after my grandfather, Gedeon Oliver Maheux. That being said, it was a little tough for me to appreciate my family heritage when neighborhood kids would call me all manor of strange and hurtful names. At some point in our lives we all get called mean things and if we’re lucky, it ends up building character instead of warping our “fragile little minds”.

But by the time I was seven, I disliked my name so much that when my mom and dad sent me off to 2 weeks of Catholic summer camp, I insisted they register me with my middle name of Paul instead of Gedeon. I had the brilliant idea that I would hide behind my dad’s name to avoid the inevitable onslaught of ridicule that would come with a cabin full of strange, new kids. All our clothes had to have name tags sewn on them for laundry identification, so for two weeks both my clothes and I were known as “Paul Maheux”. The clever charade worked great except that camp councilors thought I was going deaf since they’d call out “Paul!” and I wouldn’t even so much as turn my head in response.

Then when I was eleven years old, my father took me to my first big league baseball game. Living in New Hampshire, naturally it was the Boston Red Sox I saw that fateful day in 1980. Like most children, I can easily remember the first time I emerged from the concession tunnel to see the Green Monster. Although I had played baseball a bit at school, this was the first time I can honestly say I became interested in it. I sat with my father and watched the game unfold in unassuming fashion until a strange man took the field and the place went positively nuts.

Not being familiar with the players or the history of the Red Sox, I couldn’t understand why this scrawny guy was being greeted with such thunderous applause. Who was this man? What had he done to deserve this? Then the PA system blasted his name and quite literally changed my life. The announcer simply said one word as the scoreboard brightly flashed it over and over - “Yaz!”. Every fan in Fenway knew him to be Carl Yastrzemski, the legendary hitter and outfielder that fans lovingly referred to as Yaz. By the time I saw him that night, his profesional career was winding down, but I didn’t know that. All I knew was this man was loved and respected by thousands of people and to top it off he had a strange name, just like me.

After that fateful game, you couldn’t call me Paul if you wanted to. I was proud to be called Gedeon, but my smile grew if you called me simply Ged. I realized that it wasn’t a bad thing to have a unique name, in fact, just the opposite. Try a Google search for “Paul” and then one for “Gedeon” and you’ll know exactly what I mean. As I grew older I wore my name with pride and thanked my parents for setting me apart from the crowd. Today, I wouldn’t have it any other way and I have my family and a player named Yaz to thank for it.

Lately I’ve been trying to figure out why I chose the road of becoming a liberal Democrat, especially when my entire family are die hard Republicans. I remember when I first registered to vote I remained cautiously neutral as an Independent for fear of disappointing my parents. In many ways I am my father and mother’s son. I share their strong work ethic, their morals and their love of God and family. My mother taught me at an early age to see things with the eyes of an artist and how translate those things to canvas be it physical or digital. From my father, I learned the importance of our family heritage and to always strive for the very best in everything I do, from work to relationships. Like so many others, my parents molded me in important ways in their image. I’m proud to be their son and love them beyond words.

And so when I spoke with my mother recently and she told me how John McCain’s acceptance speech at the RNC brought her to tears with pride, and how she was really looking forward to McCain and Palin being our next President and Vice President, I had to fight back the wave of sadness that swept over me. I’ve long given up trying to persuade my folks that Republican’s don’t always do what’s in the best interests of our country. Mom & Dad are set in their ways, just as I am in mine and arguing about it only brings strife between us. But at the same time there is a big part of me that wonders where the “compassionate” part of my conservative parents went.

Being raised a Catholic, I was taught that Jesus loves us unconditionally, but ask conservatives if gays deserve God’s love or even equal treatment under the law and you’re apt to get an earful of “one man to one woman”. Some conservative churches, like Sarah Palin’s, actively promote the conversion of gay people to heterosexuality. Jesus taught us to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, and yet conservatives see nothing wrong with waging endless war based on lies, while killing and maiming hundreds of thousands of innocents. And what ever happened to Jesus’ mission of helping the poor, and tending to those among us that are sick or affirmed? Raising people from the depths of poverty and providing healthcare for all Americans are Christ-like endeavors that have somehow become tenants of the evil “socialist left” considered by Republicans to be despised and opposed at all cost.

We are the sum of our experiences. Events in our life, and the people we surround ourselves with, shape us and hone our world view. My family was always the first to lend a helping hand to those in need. We never looked down on others less fortunate or different from ourselves. Without realizing it, my parents nudged me out the door and down the path to becoming the progressive, liberal individual I am today. I only wish they had decided to come along with me for the ride.

Based on an idea I threw out on Twitter, I present you with a short list of my favorite “story songs”. These are the songs that, for me at least, drew me in and told a compelling story. So often we take for granted the effect good lyrics can have on a song’s success. This post is dedicated to those artists who go beyond repeating the same chorus over and over and instead give us memorable classics. After you’ve read my list, don’t forget to swing by the sites of all the bloggers who agreed to join me. Hopefully you’ll discover some tunes that just might become new favorites.

• • •

Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)
Looking Glass

Released in 1972 by Looking Glass, Brandy tells the tale of a barmaid living in a port town. She serves “whiskey and wine” to the admiration of many sailors, one of whom she falls in love with. In tragic fashion, the sailor isn’t willing to give up his true love, the sea. Despite this, Brandy continues to love the man and wears a braided silver chain with a locket that bears his name. I’m not exactly sure what it is about this song that gets me, but it always conjures up images of Brandy on an ocean dock with the sun setting behind her. I can picture her in my head, clear as day, clinging to her necklace as she pines for her man somewhere on the sea. Brilliant stuff!

• • •

What Am I Doin’ Hanging Round?
The Monkees

Far from one of The Monkees‘ big hits, What Am I Doin’ Hanging ‘Round? is really a simple song about a man who travels to Mexico and falls in love with a local woman. Although he longs to be with her, the whistle of the train calls to him and he decides to return home. This turns out to be a decision which haunts him and he ends the song by telling us he “wants to go back again”. Who among us can’t identify with the prospects of lost love that this song sings? Music like What Am I Doin’ taps into experiences that almost all of us share as listeners and gives them a special place in our hearts. I also love how Nesmith changes the meaning of the chorus in the beginning of the song to that of the end, even though the words are the same. Definitely one of their sleeper hits.

• • •

Escape (The Piña Colada Song)
Rupert Holmes

“If you like Piña Coladas, and getting caught in the rain…” is the chorus from one of the most famous story songs of all time - Escape by Rupert Holmes. The catchy earworm tells the tale of a man who has grown tired of his relationship with his lover and spies an ad in the local paper from a woman seeking a man. He decides to meet the woman at “a bar named O’Malley’s” only to ironically find that the woman is his own lover. The song thankfully concludes with the two discovering new things about each other and falling in love all over again.

Besides for having one of the most infectious melodies I can recall, the song also does a great job of telling the story of the two bored lovers. The twist at the end is the cherry on top (sorry) of one of the most iconic songs of the 70’s and 80’s. Holmes was forced to append the song’s name because people didn’t know its real title, Escape, and just kept calling it the “Piña Colada Song”. The tune has caused him a bit of grief over the years, and Holmes once even joked, “No matter what else I do, my tombstone will be a giant pineapple.”

• • •

Hotel California
The Eagles

The mammoth 1978 hit from the Eagles from the record of the same name is my second favorite story song of all time. The song quickly reached critical and popular success thanks in part to the quirky tale told by the narrator as well as the dark under-themes from Don Henley and Glenn Frey. On the surface, Hotel California tells the tale of a weary traveler who decides to break from his long drive and check into a mysterious hotel deep in the desert. The hotel is marked by all manner of dark characters, strange acts and a mysterious woman who seems to seal the narrator’s fate. When the narrator attempts to leave, the night man informs him that “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

When it was first released, many people theorized that Hotel California was really an allegory for a mental hospital, with the guests playing the parts of inmates. The Eagles have said that the story is a metaphor for the self-destruction of the Southern California music industry of the late 1970s. Whatever the subtext, the song stands on its own as one of the best story songs ever written.

• • •

Ode To Billy Joe
Bobby Gentry

My favorite story song has to be Ode to Billy Joe by Bobby Gentry. I’ve been fascinated by this song as long as I can remember and it seems that I’m not the only one. When it was released in late July of 1967, it touched off a cultural sensation with its gothic tale of mystery and southern culture. The song begins with the narrator and her brother returning, after morning chores, to the family house for dinner. Over dinner she learns that “Billie Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge,” apparently to his death. The family doesn’t take notice of the narrator’s grave reaction and continues with dinner as if nothing is really wrong. Mama goes on to say Brother Taylor (the local preacher) visited earlier and he mentioned that he had seen Billie Joe and a girl who looked very much like the narrator herself, “throwin’ somethin’ off the Tallahatchie Bridge.”

From the moment it was released, fans everywhere tried to piece together the puzzle the song told. What did the boy and the girl throw off the bridge? Why did Billy Joe jump to his death? Many popular theories have been flown including a forbidden affair between the narrator (a white girl) and Billy Joe (a possibly black boy) throwing their still-born baby into the muddy waters. Gentry has never revealed the true reason for Billy Joe’s suicide, which only served to heighten the song’s mythos. Ode was reportedly one of Frank Sinatra’s all-time favorites, who even had jazz great Ella Fitzgerald sing a few verses for his TV special. So next time this song comes on the radio, listen closely and see if you can decipher the clues and solve the mystery of Ode to Billy Joe. And if you figure it out, be sure to let me know!

• • •

Check out these other “Story Song” bloggers:

David Miller (@davegobe)
Living in the Now

David Schultz (@dvsjr)
The (mis)adventures of a macintosh administrator

Mike Schramm (@mikeschramm)
MikeSchramm.com

Dave Caolo (@panache)
Hardcore Geek

Von Glitschka (@vonster)
Glitschka Studios

Andy Rudkin (@mizaru)
mizaru.me.uk

Christina Warren (@film_girl)
ChristinaWarren.com

Austin Heller (@austinheller)
AustinHeller.com

Mason Sklar (@zargap)
masonsklar.com

Allen Emory
A. Emory

Alain Edouard (@alainedouard)
alainedouard.co.cc

Mark Goody (@marramgrass)
marramgrass

Jamie Parkins
The Sound of Silence

David Lanham and I traveled to New York over the 4th of July weekend, 2008. We were invited by our friend Von Glitschka as guest speakers at the ICON5 Illustration conference. I had not been to NYC in years and it was great to meet talented artists, designers and see the city. While there I learned some important facts about the Big Apple that I thought I would share with all of my loyal readers.

• • •

10. Everyone either listens to an iPod or talks on a cell phone.

9. If I lived in NYC, I think I’d like to live in Greenwich Village.

8. Yankees fans get really upset when you tell them “Go Sox!”

7. No one in NYC bothers to read signs.

6. The line for the Empire State Building is really, really long.

5. There is a place to eat every few feet.

4. I need to buy more Apple stock.

3. Tell your traveling companion to call if he’ll be out after 2am.

2. Despite what you see in movies and TV, the people are friendly.

1. A cab ride through the heart of Manhattan is just as thrilling, nerve-wracking and expensive as a trip on Space Mountain.

To say things have been a little hectic at work lately would be an understatement. For the past several months, we’ve all been working hard to get you-know-what for the iPhone in ship shape. With the impending launch of the App Store, all of us have had our hands full and then some. In the midst of this massive effort, this 4th of July weekend, David and I travel to New York City to give a talk at the ICON5 Illustration Conference at the invitation of our friend and fellow artist, Von Glitschka. I can’t remember the last time I flew on a holiday and I can only imagine the travel nightmares that await us. My iPhone will be good and charged and packed with plenty of episodes of Futurama and Deep Space Nine.

Then there’s the little matter of day-to-day work at the factory. We’ve been snowed under at the office for months with a huge project that has kept us all busy every minute of every day. Having constant work is great, but it also makes it difficult to focus on internal projects like [REDACTED] and certain freeware releases that were only supposed to go on for a month, but due to forces outside our control, inevitably stretched into the future. If we could just get the R&D lab to perfect that cloning machine they’ve been teasing us with, everything would be peachy. However, as of this writing, there’s no word yet. Those bastards.

Somehow in the middle of all this madness, the gang at the Iconfactory managed to pull off an elegant punking of our dear friend and co-worker, Craig Hockenberry. See, back at WWDC Mr. Hockenberry came away with an ADA for his incredible work on Twitterrific for the iPhone and being the gracious man he is, he let Corey bring it back to North Carolina so the rest of us could get a fleeting glimpse of the “cube” before its return to Laguna Beach. Well, we thought it would be fun to create our own DIY ADA and mail that back to him just for kicks. We documented the creation process which you can find on the Iconfactory’s Flickr page. Needless to say the prank succeeded in putting a big smile on Craig’s face while relieving some stress around the office.

The good part of all this mayhem is that it keeps life interesting. There’s always a new challenge on the horizon, be it software, freeware or paying projects. Believe it or not, client work can sometimes provide a respite every now and then from the pressures we end up imposing on ourselves. Personally, if I can just get through July, I think I’l be just fine. Serenity now! Serenity now!

It always fascinates me to see what people’s workspaces are like. I love getting an inside look at how artists, programmers and designers organize their desktops and select the tools they need to do their job. Some workspaces border on zen-like art, while others take on an air of controlled chaos. Some of us work in our homes like my friends Wolfgang Ante or Craig Hockenberry. But most of us spend the majority of our weekdays at “the office”.

And so, I thought I would throw my hat into the ring and give you a small peek at my workspace. My desk at the Iconfactory in Greensboro is where I do much of the pixel-pushing, writing, designing and illustrating that helps keep the bills paid and clients happy. Each and every day, I’m fortunate to work in a creative atmosphere surrounded by talented and dedicated people. Like many of us these days, I’ve tried working at home for extended periods, but it just doesn’t suit me. I love the bustle of the Iconfactory and the creativity our “open plan” offers the group (except when more than 3 of us are on the phone at the same time). I hope you enjoy this small behind-the-scenes look where I spend my days. Head on over to Flickr to check it out. Enjoy!