The transition is on. Apple is switching to Intel chips, with new hardware expected in the marketplace by this time next year. Their flagship development product XCode will produce “universal binary” capable of working on either PPC or Intel chips.
Those applications that don’t easily re-compile will make use of a “dynamic binary translator” in order to run.
I will be the first to admit that I know next to nothing about the larger ramifications of this major switch by Apple. But I do have two questions:
Who will buy a PowerPC version of any Machintosh between now and when the first Intel version come available? (Other than the “tinfoil hat” brigade wanting to stay pure…)
Once OS X is Intel ready, why buy a Macintosh at all?
I feel a great disturbance in the force, as if millions of souls cried out in agony….
Updated: 1:45 pm I think I may have hit upon a partial answer to my questions above. Apple hardware uses open firmware in place of a BIOS. Unless the Intel version of OS X truly will run on any Intel platform, you’ll still need a Mac to use the OS. It’ll just happen to be a Mac with an Intel Inside sticker on the side.
I’ve been at my current job for almost a year now. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I am getting antsy. It appears that it takes me about a year to get over the “new car smell” of a new position. The bloom is off the rose here, and I am starting to think about how a different job would get me away from this one. In the past, when I have acted while in this state of funk, and changed jobs (at great cost) only to find myself antsy in another year.
The trick, I’ve discovered is not to switch jobs to get away from a situation, but rather to move towards a situation. Granted this is not always possible, but when you have the luxury of a steady job there is not reason to switch to any situation that is some how less than your current engagement.
What happens to me is that I get depressed thinking about the shortcomings of the current job and I start looking for a new job. As is always the case it takes a while to find a job that really interests me. I might get some rejections, either directly in the form of a “thanks but no thanks” call or letter, or indirectly by never hearing from places where I submit my resume. Not getting responses or getting negative responses adds to my depression. I start to believe that not only does my current situation suck, but that I no longer possess the amalgam of skills, experience, et cetera that the employers are demanding.
Having taken on all this depression I am completely venerable to the first decent offer I receive. I end up taken a job just to prove to myself that I can get one, and not for reasons that will actually benefit me over time. This, of course, leads to a repeating cycle as I rapidly discover the new job isn’t “all that” and I am ready to move on in few months or a year.
I am hoping to break this cycle here. I’ve got a good job that isn’t going away, and that has the potential to last a very long time. Sure there are aspects of it that I don’t like. But they are not only aspects that are beyond my control, they are aspects that occur (in my humble experience) at all employers. So leaving this place for another isn’t going to address them.
And this time I recognize that I have been depressed for a long time. Losing my job in Illinois, having to move, putting up with an incredibly tight budget, have all added to my depression. A better approach would be to try and address as many factors of my depression outside of any job search activities. Not an easy task, but just knowing that I have issues will help me to keep them in mind while evaluating potential positions.
Will I change jobs again? Almost certainly. Will those new jobs have aspects good and bad? Positively. Will I learn to separate issues I need to resolve independently of work from job searching activities? I certainly hope so.
This morning on my daily commute I was unintentionally shelled by ballistic ice. While traveling at about 70 MPH in the left lane of I-435, following an unremarkable late model American sedan (license plate 177 WWM) I observed the driver toss something out the window. Upon later reflection I decided what I had seen was him emptying a cup of its ice.
Immediately after seeing the tossing motion out of his window I saw an object in the air, arching directly towards my windshield. Directly towards me as a matter of fact. Just as I started to swerve towards the shoulder, this small mass (maybe golf ball size?) smacked into the glass with a terrific impact. It was the loudest sound I’ve ever heard in my car. That the windshield didn’t shatter into a million pieces amazes me.
When I arrived at my parking lot a few minutes later, after debating with myself about following the car responsible for the shelling and deciding discretion was truly the better part of valor, I was further amazed that there wasn’t even a chip in the window where the impact had occurred.
Good thing this didn’t happen in Florida where, thanks to a new law endorsed by the NRA, I can now defend myself from attack via my handgun without first attempting to flee. There I could have returned fire, claiming that I’d felt “threatened.”
Once upon a time we bought a set of flatware for everyday use. Eight of everything: spoons, dessert forks, regular forks, and knives. Well, seven of the dessert forks; at some point in Illinois one of the dessert forks disappeared. All of the remaining utensils are just like their mates except for one spoon.
One of the eight spoons is squared off on the end where the rest are ovoid. Since I always felt like I never fit in, I am fond of this spoon. I pointed out the difference in the spoons to Michele, and didn’t think any more about it.
Tonight we were having dessert and she brought me a spoon. “The” spoon. Not only had she heard me point out the difference, she intuited that there was some meaning there for me. Not that getting this spoon is special, but having her go to the effort of making sure I got felt good.
It’s the little things that really matter.
My mother-in-law, Virginia, is dying. She has been in poor health for a couple of years, and by all accounts is fading fast now. Obviously this is very stressful and difficult for Michele; being so far away and not having much financial flexibility isn’t helping matters.
I expect we’ll be making a trip to Manteo soon. The trip is 1275 miles by car, which makes it nearly impossible. Air fares are down right now so we maybe able to fly in two weeks for less than $300 total.
She has known this was coming for some time. Two years ago at Christmas time Virginia was sick enough to be hospitalized. While we never got the full story, it is apparent that there was something major wrong. In her indomitable way, Virginia refused all treatment and went home as soon as she was allowed. This past Thanksgiving she once again collapsed and had to be hospitalized. Her manner of dealing with authority figures, and stressful situations, made it appear to people who didn’t know her that she was suffering from dementia. Michele worked long and hard to get her mother into a nursing home situation and not into the psych ward.
Virginia didn’t fare well in the nursing home, and once it was apparent that her health was as good as it was going to get, she went home. Michele arranged family visits and home health care for her mom, and she has been able to stay in her apartment since returning home. Now that the end appears near ever choice has greater import and impact.
On Tuesday Virginia will see a doctor. We are waiting to get feedback from that visit to determine what to do next. Michele is struggling with the choice to see her mom one more time, in a weakened and very ill state. Having that memory is not something she really wants. The two of them have made their peace with each other over the past few years. Michele has said to her mom what she needed to say and is therefore fortunate not to be facing a “if only I had said this” situation. I told her that I completely support her going to see her mom again or not.
For myself this brings up my own emotions about my parents. They are both showing their age more than ever, and I know their time is limited. I have to seriously reconcile the unsaid things and determine what I need to do while they are alive so that I will not have regrets once they’ve died. My mom has successfully, for now, battled back from lung cancer; and my father is learning to cope with diminished stamina. Being with Michele has helped me to see myself as an adult man who is capable, worthy, and good. Still, I have a hard time seeing myself that way through my parents eyes. Or rather through my interpretation of my parents viewpoint.
Death, as a good friend recently said to me, is a very weird thing. You never know how you’ll react until it happens. The only thing I know for certain is that from our perspective on this physical plane of existence, death is one-way passage.
Recently I updated my resumes on Monster and Dice. I had been very active on these two sites last spring during the 100 days I was out of work, but I had ignored them entirely since starting here in July 2004.
Imagine my surprise when within hours of posting an updated resume on Dice I stated getting emails and phone calls. The number of contacts only increased when I updated my profile on Monster. It would appear that the technical job market has taken a turn for the better. A year ago I could get a phone call to save my life, now I’m having to fend them off by letting the voice mail take some calls.
Of course it could be that my resume is more buzz-word compliant these days. I’ve added J2EE, and its associated complimentary technologies in a major way since going to work here. But I think the market as a whole is healthier than it was 12 months ago.
I’m not really looking for a change in employment right now. But it is nice to take the temperature of the local tech market waters and find it inviting.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land far, far away I worked for a YMCA summer camp. In a week’s time I could teach 8-10 eight year olds the following:
One hen
Two ducks
Three squawking geese
Four limerick oysters
Five corpulent porpoises
Six pairs of Don Alverzo’s tweezers
Seven thousand Macedonians in full battle array
Eight brass monkeys from the ancient sacred crypts of Egypt
Nine sympathetic, apathetic, diabetic old men on roller skates with a marked propensity toward procrastination and sloth
and
Ten lyrical, spherical denizens of the deep, who haul quay around the corner, and quiver all at the same time
Then I’d send them home with mom or dad with instructions to teach them the same verse. I just thought you should know.
On the eve of my 44th birthday, here are 44 things about me.
Yesterday at noon the closing off the house sale in Illinois took place. Michele and I chose not to return to Illinois for the event. Partly due to our financial situation, partly due to the 10-hour round trip drive involved, and mostly because of the bittersweet quality of the transaction. We were very happy in that house and now it feels like it was taken by strangers. It was easier not to have to meet them and suffer through their enthusiasm and joy while trying to console our own sadness.
Yesterday I got my Kansas drivers license in the mail. I guess that makes it official, I’m now a resident in one of the most conservative red states in the country. Now I understand how a long-tailed cat feels in a room full of rocking chairs.
In one week I’ll be 44. Middle aged, if I live to be 88. Like everyone else I get reflective when my birthday rolls around. This year is no different; I just wish I had more uplifting things to reflect upon. Oh well, they saw it’s always darkest just before the dawn. I guess the metaphorical sun is about to come blazing through the windows of my life.