Hawkward Thoughts: Weekly rants, praises and more

Sunday, August 27th, 2017

Long Sentences

I, as it happens, am a fan of writing fantastically long and convoluted, but not grammatically incorrect sentences. This love affair began back in high school, where, as most adolescents do, I learned about the early English writers of the 20th Century like Thoreau and Emerson, who started this tradition of accelerated rambling in an effort to try and convey the message of thought and its processes, though it is easily up for debate whether this style of writing has any merit in the modern world or if it was just a way to avoid having to stop and start a story; setting aside possibilities for unique writing in order to accommodate for the “Firsts, Seconds, Thirds, Soons, and Previously’s” of the Writing World. If you are like any English teacher I have ever had during my early education or would not balk at the opportunity of sharing a cup of tea, coffee, mocha, or eggnog (if you’re feeling particularly festive) with an ACT Essay grader on a Sunday afternoon then it is more likely than not that you would not, do not currently, nor in any past or future reading enjoy this, the delectable style of writing which I have chosen to share with the world like a sweet and salty plague. I also am entranced by this style of monologuing because it allows for the avid proliferation of complete and utter nonsense like “Sweet and salty plague,” which I am at least half certain – and am willing to bet some money on – has never been uttered by any sane human or especially sane dolphin in the history of mankind nor dolphinkind. The reason why I am so intent on composing this column like a person who’s not-so-recently lost their marbles in some kind of bet regarding dolphins is that this kind of writing is both entertaining to read and challenging to create on the fly. Many of my favorite authors have written like this to great success, even producing such masterpieces as Alice in Wonderland, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and The Hobbit amidst their ramblings. It takes some practice, but after a while it can become a unique and lively way to read and write. That is to say unless you tell me you’re an ACT Essay grader, in which case I’m sure you’ve wanted to strangle me since the first comma.

Apple Group Messages

I hate them, pure and simple. As Adam eventually hated Eve's cooking, as the Israelites hated walls and Pharaohs, as David hated tall people, my disgust is of biblical proportions. I would usually ease up on a subject I had such a distaste for, give it its fair run before tripping it up midstep, but not for this. Not for this travesty of unstoppable drivel. I have as little respect for how Apple decided to handle their software as I do for potholes, clammy handshakes, or industrial lunches. This is to say I avoid it at all costs. The feeling of trying to follow up on a conversation that has plagued your phone is one of an aggravating, pitiful Hajj; backtracking in a vast, linear desert, searching for an oasis, knowing that every shake of the ground and swoosh of wind only expands the limits of the desert at its edge. Only since the invention of the "do not disturb" feature have I come to accept that there is at the most one sane person on the iMessage development team fighting for the rights of the human condition, stylus sharpened and firewall shield donned.
Defend us, good Samaritan of Apple, from the pings, bleeps, and buzzes of commercial communication; save us from our peers. Bring us to the promised land of the holy email, where we may dine on Cc and Bcc recipients to our fickle hearts' content. Hallowed be thy fight, oh savior, forever and ever, Amen.
-Book of the Tech 1:1
In all reality, group messaging with Apple software feels clunky, rushed, and thoroughly incomplete. Every conversation quickly becomes one-sided or entirely incomprehensible, and when any more than three people are in the list at a time their messaging bubbles become indistinguishable and one cannot help but trip over their own, and others’ feet. This, and the weird choice that it takes thirty clicks to call someone without using Siri, are what I believe to be Apple’s core problems with their tech’s user interface at the moment. While their hardware is slick, shiny, and appealing, their innovations are going to need to stop becoming baubles - like keychains for your Motorola Razor – if they’ll want to be able to continue saying that they actually produce phones at all. Why would I buy wireless Bluetooth headphones or a ludicrously complicated stylus, both of which I guarantee you I would lose in a week and which the insurance would not cover, from a company that cannot manage to make a cellphone that’s good for communication. All this and more is why it is so important that companies, especially those as dynamic as Apple, occasionally halt their innovation to allow for renovation; to create a stronger, more reliable product from its core.