I have a G1. I have played with this phone so much today, it's unreasonable. I'm quite sure that this is the perfect phone for me.
Main Gripe - Battery Life.
Main Pro - It charges fast as shit.
Hmm. Well I mean, there is a lot to say about the phone. I think that it's well worth the 2 year extension, it's so functional, there are a TON of apps out and it's not even 3 months old, it feels like a good piece of hardware, everything works well together.
Main problem was syncing all my contacts from my sidekick over to Outlook, then syncing from Outlook to Google. But my Calendar and Contacts (most important part of my phone) transferred flawlessly. The only thing I'm missing is my pictures, and those are on my Sidekick's SD car, so I'll get them later.
Setting up the phone to be your own customizable thing is really fun. I honestly wasted about 4 hours getting the right apps and setting everything up the way I feel comfortable.
They give you three screens to work with on the desktop, and you can have 16 apps each. Anyone who's touched an iPhone understands how to switch screens. The menus make sense, but the only thing I see being a problem is that this phone will do TOO MUCH, and it's visions will be limited by it's hardware.
It's fairly easy to rearrange icons on the desktops, also. On one side, I have shortcuts to various settings, the main one I have main apps, and on the right screen I have social, miscellaneous apps.
The battery gets hot as balls during charging, GPS kills the life, and when you try to use "WiFi or Cell Tower positioning," it's definitely off the mark for location purposes. A lot of the intuitive programming comes from utilizing GPS, and, unfortunately, only expect to get a couple of hours runnign full blast. I remember that when I was at 15% after about an hour and change of GPS usage, video watching and etc, I turned on 2G only, and turned off 3G and GPS.
That 15%, still with me emailing, calling and texting constantly, lasted me well into New York for another hour and a half.
One major gripe is the lack of being able to highlight text in an email you receive when you want to copy maybe a portion of the email. When you forward, you forward the ENTIRE original document, so you can't clean it up to make it look like it was yours.
Also, the keyboard takes some getting used to. The SK keyboard is raised and the buttons are easy to press. These buttons on the G1 are slightly elevated, and place a wear on the fingertips, for some reason. It's not conducive for heavy text use.
I like the way that Texts are "nested" and are acutally conversations (think AIM-like), and the IM program generally sucks for AIM, but is awesome for GTalk.
Also, when I'm on Google on my laptop, my phone doesn't get bothered with the messages and such. Also, Changes made on my G1 reflect onto my computer terminal. It's like the two entities are not only using the same service, but they're truly synced.
Don't expect to profile hop though, the G1 is a one-SN monster.
Syncing with Google is pretty flawless as well. I made changes onto my contacts via Gmail on my laptop, and they reflected that on my phone within seconds.
Just don't try to multi-task. I don't know what programs it gives priority to, but Messaging and Email always seem to be active. Trying to load too many programs not only drains the battery, but is counter intuitive due to the nature of "mobile Linux." I don't think the G1 has too much onboard Ram, now that I think about it.
And the GPS functionality sucked when I was on I95 between Boston and New York.
But all in all, I like the phone. There's so much going on that I could blog for days about it. And coming from the EXTREMELY limited sidekick, this phone is a huge functionality change. But one thing I liked about the Sidekick, well, Danger OSes in general, is that everything works with everything like you expect it to.
See a number online, and you can add it to contacts. You can highlight numbers or addresses and pull them up on your map, google search em, or do whatever. If you think that you should be able to do something with the information given you, you should be able to.
I definitely recommend this phone. USB charging, unlimited access to Google and brilliant elegance with the programing make me extremely happy.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
The Night When The Wind Stopped: Part I
As the storm tormented the fragile sidepanels of the shanty town houses, families cowered together for warmth and security, trapped in their own homes. It was entirely too dangerous to venture outside, despite the fact that the raggedy houses could be picked up off the ground and lost to Mother Nature forever, her vicious claws ripping and tearing at the supple flesh of her children, scantily clad in whatever threads and trappings they could scavenge. To go into the elements meant certain death, and waiting in a flimsy house held a slight chance at loss of life.
Stoic, poor and stubborn, the Lost Village of Basonayago was a place where drifters eventually found themselves when they decided to settle. An entire community of houses built on top of shacks on top of huts on top of houses, from kilometers away, it looked like a mass of wood and steal and stone and mud that, surely only through the breaking of numerous laws of physics and thermodynamics, found a way to defy gravity and not implode in upon itself.
A sore place to look at, and an even worse place to live, all manner of people, races, animals and beasts roamed the city. Criminals sought refuge in the hustle and bustle of a town that was ruled by only the language of money. Merchants boldy placed their wares on the street, their sharpened machete's firmly notched in their belts to slice off any non-paying hands. Children riding atop the backs of animals imported in from the deepest wretches of the surrounding jungles. Prostitutes slyly gazed out the windows of their whore houses, their cheap perfume and rancid semen-stained breath making the air noxious.
Ostensibly examined, the fact that the city managed to operate was a miracle of Zeio in and of itself. The notion of a city that seemed to defy gravity and conventional architecture was endearingly inspirational at best. Looks, however, due to their very nature, are highly deceiving. A bureaucratic nightmare, there was no Police Force to uphold the law of Filgaia, and no central government to employ workers, maintenance crews or court Arbitrators.
And the aroma of the city was atrocious. No Public Service force bothered to venture within smell of the place, for fear that the stench would bond itself to their DNA. No sort of sanitation, very limited hygiene pride, and a general miseducation about the proper usage of the limited running water led the city to droughts, civil wars and escalated crime.
For all intents and purposes, it would have been better if the Lost Village simply became a small smudge on the footprint of history. A cesspool of uselessness, no one in the Lost Village paid taxes to Lord Colbalt, gave tithing to Zeio, or respected the magic of the Judges.
Some felt that the approaching storm was Divine Judgment of a social escapade run out of control. When the satellite imagery displayed three storms converging and head towards the Lost Village, most felt that nothing could be done. The inhabitants would neither listen to authority, not yield to the words of the Royal Scientists. When they were warned that their day of reckoning was approaching, they responded that Zeio could take his foot and shove it somewhere most inappropriate.
Perhaps they could have been saved. Perhaps they might have sought redemption and amended the errors of their ways. All that is speculation, for the Lost Village was on it's way to becoming the Forgotten Crater in History.
Hurricane Roman was ripping houses off the ground and shredding the inhabitants with flying debris. Winds of 200 kph destroyed anything in Roman's path, and only added more airborne shrapnel to the gravy that was already a tormented soup of death and rain. The outer rims of the hurricane weakened the fragile foundations while the wind wall finished the job. Anyone in a house that fell victim to Roman because another statistic in the system, their NanoMachine signals turning off upon death, revealing to the Royale Archives the mass amount of killings happening.
Non-stop death and destruction. For hours, Roman slowly canvased the mammoth shanty-metropolis, the mass of the storm paling in comparison to the vastness of the poverty. It seemed like the only thing that would save The Lost Village was the fact that it all couldn't possibly be destroyed at once.
Then everything stopped.
As if Zeio himself placed his hand in the way, the wind stopped, the rain stopped and the noise stopped. A Bright light stone through the mist, engulfing the area in a silent and golden tint that left a ringing in the ear reminiscent of angelic song books hymnals.
Moment by moment passed, and the singing got louder, more pronounced, and the light grew brighter and brighter, drying away the rain and healing the scars in the city. A leper stepped out of his nook and was instantly healed. A crippled man stumbled on his cane, fell, prostrate, on the street, his walking stick skitted away in the dusty underbrush of a nearby cabin. He reached out to get it only to discover that he no longer needed a cane to walk.
He stood and looked at the young man in the black cape, hovering above the center of the town, who held a glowing Diamond, the source of the light.
To Be Continued...
Stoic, poor and stubborn, the Lost Village of Basonayago was a place where drifters eventually found themselves when they decided to settle. An entire community of houses built on top of shacks on top of huts on top of houses, from kilometers away, it looked like a mass of wood and steal and stone and mud that, surely only through the breaking of numerous laws of physics and thermodynamics, found a way to defy gravity and not implode in upon itself.
A sore place to look at, and an even worse place to live, all manner of people, races, animals and beasts roamed the city. Criminals sought refuge in the hustle and bustle of a town that was ruled by only the language of money. Merchants boldy placed their wares on the street, their sharpened machete's firmly notched in their belts to slice off any non-paying hands. Children riding atop the backs of animals imported in from the deepest wretches of the surrounding jungles. Prostitutes slyly gazed out the windows of their whore houses, their cheap perfume and rancid semen-stained breath making the air noxious.
Ostensibly examined, the fact that the city managed to operate was a miracle of Zeio in and of itself. The notion of a city that seemed to defy gravity and conventional architecture was endearingly inspirational at best. Looks, however, due to their very nature, are highly deceiving. A bureaucratic nightmare, there was no Police Force to uphold the law of Filgaia, and no central government to employ workers, maintenance crews or court Arbitrators.
And the aroma of the city was atrocious. No Public Service force bothered to venture within smell of the place, for fear that the stench would bond itself to their DNA. No sort of sanitation, very limited hygiene pride, and a general miseducation about the proper usage of the limited running water led the city to droughts, civil wars and escalated crime.
For all intents and purposes, it would have been better if the Lost Village simply became a small smudge on the footprint of history. A cesspool of uselessness, no one in the Lost Village paid taxes to Lord Colbalt, gave tithing to Zeio, or respected the magic of the Judges.
Some felt that the approaching storm was Divine Judgment of a social escapade run out of control. When the satellite imagery displayed three storms converging and head towards the Lost Village, most felt that nothing could be done. The inhabitants would neither listen to authority, not yield to the words of the Royal Scientists. When they were warned that their day of reckoning was approaching, they responded that Zeio could take his foot and shove it somewhere most inappropriate.
Perhaps they could have been saved. Perhaps they might have sought redemption and amended the errors of their ways. All that is speculation, for the Lost Village was on it's way to becoming the Forgotten Crater in History.
Hurricane Roman was ripping houses off the ground and shredding the inhabitants with flying debris. Winds of 200 kph destroyed anything in Roman's path, and only added more airborne shrapnel to the gravy that was already a tormented soup of death and rain. The outer rims of the hurricane weakened the fragile foundations while the wind wall finished the job. Anyone in a house that fell victim to Roman because another statistic in the system, their NanoMachine signals turning off upon death, revealing to the Royale Archives the mass amount of killings happening.
Non-stop death and destruction. For hours, Roman slowly canvased the mammoth shanty-metropolis, the mass of the storm paling in comparison to the vastness of the poverty. It seemed like the only thing that would save The Lost Village was the fact that it all couldn't possibly be destroyed at once.
Then everything stopped.
As if Zeio himself placed his hand in the way, the wind stopped, the rain stopped and the noise stopped. A Bright light stone through the mist, engulfing the area in a silent and golden tint that left a ringing in the ear reminiscent of angelic song books hymnals.
Moment by moment passed, and the singing got louder, more pronounced, and the light grew brighter and brighter, drying away the rain and healing the scars in the city. A leper stepped out of his nook and was instantly healed. A crippled man stumbled on his cane, fell, prostrate, on the street, his walking stick skitted away in the dusty underbrush of a nearby cabin. He reached out to get it only to discover that he no longer needed a cane to walk.
He stood and looked at the young man in the black cape, hovering above the center of the town, who held a glowing Diamond, the source of the light.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
On the Blood Soaked Plains Part 1
It was a night that was neither cold nor rainy. Nor was it night. Actually, it was around noon. And it was hot. Way hot. About 130 degrees. No humidity though, that was nice. And it was kinda cloudy. So, at the very least, the sun wasn't bearing down.
BUT WAIT, THERE WERE NINJAS.
Like 80 ninjas. No, like 80,000. Now, Ninjas aren't that deadly when in large groups. Ya see, ninjas are like Green Lanterns; when there's just 1 of them, they are an army raping, planet ripping, monster eating, steel spitting hurricane of fire and brimstone wielding, asteroid summoning machina of destruction.
But you get a whole battalion of them together, and they're just cannon fodder.
Whenever you have THAT many enemies they're there because they're buying time for the bad guy to disappear. And create/summon more ninjas/demons/robots/nazis. When was the last time you saw a group of ninjas/green lanterns do something epic as opposed to that ONE hotshot the episode was about?
Look at Ninja Storm. One super ninja versus a jillion not so super ninjas/demons/robots/nazis. Or look at Hal Jordan. Now I know you're thinking Naruto, but honestly; how many unnamed Ninjas did they kill over the course of the show? How many Sand or Sound or Rain ninjas got names? Look at the hapless henchmen in sci-fi shows; they don't get name tags. Or even decent blasters.
So there were like 80 ninjas, and it was cold, and raining and dark. And it was in a jungle. So you couldn't see the ninjas. Hell, it could have been the open sea on a sunny day and you still couldn't have seen the ninjas. Well, mainly because the open sea is Pirate territory, and by default, Ninjas don't tread in those regions. Ninjas also stay away from the Wild West, because that's where Cowboys are.
But Mountain peaks, Jungles, Swamps, etc; all Ninja territory. Well, the Open Sea or the Wild West at night contains a 55% chance of slight ninja, but only if it's cloudy and a New Moon.
Where was I? Oh, honestly there were only 10 ninjas. Waffle Samurai and TACO Commander were standing, back to back of course, as they assessed the situation. The rain drops plink-plink-dripped off Waffle's straw hat, and tiny rivulets of water sloshed down TACO's goggles and his once-neatly pressed uniform.
TACO slowly looked around, his in-goggle HUD giving him the scenario win percentage at a paltry 34%. As he noticed more ninjas, it dropped until he counted the last one on the radar.
"13% chance of winning," he grimly surmised. He checked the remaining ammo on his gun. Seven shots left. Waffle drew his sword. "Correction," TACO began to say, "102% with a 2 point margin of error."
Waffle locked his eyes on the closest assailant. "I like those odds." He threw his hat in the air as he lunged forward.
BUT WAIT, THERE WERE NINJAS.
Like 80 ninjas. No, like 80,000. Now, Ninjas aren't that deadly when in large groups. Ya see, ninjas are like Green Lanterns; when there's just 1 of them, they are an army raping, planet ripping, monster eating, steel spitting hurricane of fire and brimstone wielding, asteroid summoning machina of destruction.
But you get a whole battalion of them together, and they're just cannon fodder.
Whenever you have THAT many enemies they're there because they're buying time for the bad guy to disappear. And create/summon more ninjas/demons/robots/nazis. When was the last time you saw a group of ninjas/green lanterns do something epic as opposed to that ONE hotshot the episode was about?
Look at Ninja Storm. One super ninja versus a jillion not so super ninjas/demons/robots/nazis. Or look at Hal Jordan. Now I know you're thinking Naruto, but honestly; how many unnamed Ninjas did they kill over the course of the show? How many Sand or Sound or Rain ninjas got names? Look at the hapless henchmen in sci-fi shows; they don't get name tags. Or even decent blasters.
So there were like 80 ninjas, and it was cold, and raining and dark. And it was in a jungle. So you couldn't see the ninjas. Hell, it could have been the open sea on a sunny day and you still couldn't have seen the ninjas. Well, mainly because the open sea is Pirate territory, and by default, Ninjas don't tread in those regions. Ninjas also stay away from the Wild West, because that's where Cowboys are.
But Mountain peaks, Jungles, Swamps, etc; all Ninja territory. Well, the Open Sea or the Wild West at night contains a 55% chance of slight ninja, but only if it's cloudy and a New Moon.
Where was I? Oh, honestly there were only 10 ninjas. Waffle Samurai and TACO Commander were standing, back to back of course, as they assessed the situation. The rain drops plink-plink-dripped off Waffle's straw hat, and tiny rivulets of water sloshed down TACO's goggles and his once-neatly pressed uniform.
TACO slowly looked around, his in-goggle HUD giving him the scenario win percentage at a paltry 34%. As he noticed more ninjas, it dropped until he counted the last one on the radar.
"13% chance of winning," he grimly surmised. He checked the remaining ammo on his gun. Seven shots left. Waffle drew his sword. "Correction," TACO began to say, "102% with a 2 point margin of error."
Waffle locked his eyes on the closest assailant. "I like those odds." He threw his hat in the air as he lunged forward.
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