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Concerning iPhone Twitter Clients Part 1

INTRODUCTION

OK, so I've been wanting to write a review for a while now, and since I've gone absolutely insane with finding neat and new iPhone apps while finally admitting to myself that, yes indeed, I am addicted to Twitter(just ask Shannon), in my next several posts, I'm going to be taking a look at a handful of the Twitter clients available for the iPhone, discussing features, look and feel, ease of use and so forth, and weighing in with my highly respected, non-expert opinion. Just to put myself on record, in the coming weeks I'll be reviewing the following: Twittelator, Twitterrific, Tweetie, and TwitterFon. These are the ones I have fretted over and tossed away from me like an unclean shirt, only to rush to pick them up again in longing; these are the ones that cause me a tiny pain, just behind my right eye, when I think about getting the best, most fulfilling iPhone Twitter experience possible, and worry that I might not be. I would like to say that I didn't really do these things, but I can't. And I know that's sad.

[ DISCLAIMER:  The opinions expressed herein are those held by the staff of residuetiger.com(that would just be me, residuetiger—but it sounds really cool to talk about my staff...That didn't actually come out quite,nevermind) and do not reflect those opinions held by those of any other person or persons you could possibly imagine at any time in history, world without end, amen.... ]

[ DISCLAIMER TO ABOVE DISCLAIMER:  I just don't want to get my ass sued off; I don't have much to spare... ]

PAY TO PLAY? PORQUOI?

Some are free, some are not. And, as with many things on the App Store you don't always get what you pay for, and the best things are not always free. Already I hear some of you asking, 'Wait a minute a-hole, why would I want to pay for a Twitter client?', and that's a perfectly valid question. In answer, increased functionality for one thing, and some nifty features usually not included in your typical free twitter app. Basically some shiny little bells and whistles to make your constant need to 'just peek' at the twitterstream even more pleasant and easier than it already is. A few of the free twitter apps I've tried have ads, but fork over a few dollars and they go the way of the fishes.

Let's get started, shall we?

WHERE THE BULLET HITS THE BONE

First at bat is Twittelator by Stone Design. Twittelator comes in two flavors: a free version(hereafter reffered to as, simply, Twittelator), and Twittelator Pro which is $4.99 from the App Store.

Both flavors of Twittelator share quite a robust search feature, allowing you to find that special someone to follow, or any particular topic that might be percolating in the twitterverse. Pro takes it a step further by including a dedicated stock search for keeping up with your declining fortunes on Wall Street, and the ability to setup and save specific search terms or topics so you can come back later without having to type in your search terms all over again, which is a handy feature, if you ask me.

Access to the public timeline, featured tweeters and your replies—sorry, I meant mentions—and direct messages are available in both versions, as is the ability to post pics and links. These features are pretty common in all Twitter clients, so nothing surprising here really. Tapping on a user's photo will bring up that user's profile and friend/follower listing, with options to favorite or bookmark the user, follow/unfollow buttons, and a button to send a private message to said user.

Take a look at the screenshot to the right. Before we go any further I will tell you that what you see here is a pretty standard, and effective, layout for an iPhone Twitter client. It's not exactly an if-you've-seen-one-you've-seen-them-all scenario, but most have a very similar look to them, so moving between one or more clients won't be a shock.

As you can see, Twittelator sports a very clean and easy to read interface(The theme pictured here is one of the three built into the Pro version). Twittelator comes with only one built in theme which cannot be changed, but lay down the coin for Pro and you get three themes to choose from—none of which, I must say, are bright or cheery, but it's not like they'll induce depression or anything(actually, I'm rather fond of the muted colors, but I'm not very bright and cheery either, so....). In my opinion Twittelator Pro's setup is a bit more intuitive and user friendly than the 'lite' version where most of your twittering activities of interest are displayed in a list menu of sorts, which serves as the free version's main page, shown in the screenshot on the left below. Mentions and direct messages are simply displayed in the main timeline along with your other followers' tweets, which I find to be a bit confusing(though they are color coded). Other apps, including Twittelator Pro(see screenshot on right below) provide a toolbar of sorts along the bottom of the screen where you can directly access your mentions, direct messages, settings and other things.

When I first started using Twitter, one of the things I found confusing and troublesome—especially if you were using Twitter's own web interface, and to a lesser extent, even with the iPhone clients—was following an ongoing conversation. If someone you're following posted an @ reply to someone else you really had no idea what they were talking about. It was kind of like sitting next to someone talking on the phone, you only got half the conversation. You had to—and this may still be the case as I don't use the main Twitter interface that much—drill down through the replies, each one popping up in a new tab/window to get to the bottom of things. It was actually through Twittering on the iPhone that made following the gist of a conversation a painfully easy task for me.

  With Twittelator Pro, when you stumble upon a particularly juicy tweet and you simply must know the rest of the story, you should notice a little 'chat bubbly' looking thing surrounding the time said tweet was posted. This indicates that there's more of the convo to be seen. Just tap on the 'chat bubble' and voila, the entire exchange is revealed to you in all it's glory in it's own dedicated little screen! As far as I can tell, Twittelator(free) does not offer this nifty little feature. To be frank, this feature alone is worth 4-5 dollars in my book, but what the flip do I know; I'm just a worm trying to make my way in through the dirt of life. [ Disclaimer: I have know idea where that last bit came from. Really.]

Now a Twitter client would be about as useless as G.W. in the White House if you couldn't post pics and links to your interesting finds on the interwebs, and Twittelator has you covered. With both versions you can post pics, usually via TwitPic, although Pro offers you a choice of a few other photo hosting sites if, for some reason, you find a particular one distasteful, and the ability to post high-rez photos to boot. And for your links, go ahead and toss them up; Twittelator will auto-shorten your link before posting and you can go on about your business. Pro goes above and beyond the call of duty here by offering you a plethora—actually just five—of link shortening services to choose from. But here is where a major deal breaker, for some, pops up between the two versions; in Twittelator it's not immediately obvious that you can check out someone's tweeted linkage, but it's only a matter of double-tapping on the body of the Tweet itself and the link will open automatically in the built in browser. The problem here, as I see it, is that Twittelator does not support multiple links in one Tweet. Pro integrates a handy-dandy link....uh, link in the form of a wee paper clip icon; just tap the paper clip and it's instant link love, or in the multiple link scenario, you'll be prompted to choose which link to follow from a popup. Brilliant!

I've touched on several features and differences between the two Twittelator versions here, things which really caught my attention and made me want slap my mother, but I feel like I'm getting a little long in the tooth as they say, so I think it's time for a wrap up.

Twittelator, in either incarnation, is visually appealing and user friendly, and since the last couple of updates, quite stable(I personally had some crashing issues when I first picked up Pro, but those seem to have been remedied). Stone just released V2.2, so now's a great time to check it out. If you're a Twitterholic, Pro's $4.99 price point at the App Store is well worth it in my opinion. Those little bells and whistles—and I haven't even covered them all, not by a mile—make Twittering just a little bit more pleasurable when you're on the go.

Tune in next time for Part 2, when I talk about another of my favorite iPhone clients: Tweetie.

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Some Recent Good Times

Good times were had by all recently down in Lexington, KY when Shannon and I went to see our good friend Mike's band, The Rough Customers. We met up with Hannah, who is also a good friend, and also Mike's wife,for a little pre-show dinner then headed down to Brooklyn Pizza right in downtown Lexington.

Although we didn't eat, I understand the food is good, and I believe the words, 'best pizza in town' have been uttered more than once. The bar has a nice welcoming feel with its dark wood and high ceilings; it would easily be a place you could go to everyday for a brew before heading home.

I was blown away by the RC's, honestly. It was my first chance to catch them and it was amazing. They have a great sound that's part ska, and part...I don't know what, but it's good! Guitars, a tenor sax(that's my man Mike on sax btw), trumpet, trombone, percussion. What more do you need really? I snagged one of their new demo CD's early on, but Shannon somehow ended up with it(and no, I don't want to talk about it). I'll have to get it back and maybe throw it up here, if I can figure out how to do that in a timely and relatively painless fashion. I make no promises. Here are some pics!

 

You can see it was a pretty good crowd and they love the RC's! Check out Mike's chops on that sax!

Ramblings

Yesterday I was shopping in Wal-Mart(I know, blasphemy, but it's right across the street from my apartment) and I saw something that really caught my eye. A tongue cleaner. I was in the toothpaste aisle down by the floss, and hanging on a peg among the picks and probes and other instruments of dental self-torture was a plastic wedge-shaped thing called—no kidding—a tongue cleaner. I didn't even know such a thing existed. I'm aware of the benefits, say, of cleaning your tongue off occasionally, I guess, but why would you need a special instrument to do so? Isn't your toothbrush just as effective? I almost bought it as a conversation piece, but then I was afraid I'd become obsessive about cleaning my tongue and used implements of personal hygiene do not, in general, make good conversation pieces. Or so I'm told.

You know how you sometimes get songs stuck in your head? Well, invariably I get songs which I hate bouncing around in mine. It's almost as if, in addition to owning a radio alarm clock—with which I awaken each morning to the sounds of public radio--I have a little radio in my brain that turns on immediately upon regaining consciousness, and it queues up one or two of my least favorite songs. I was reminded of this while eating dinner this evening in one of those semi-fast food places where you usually go in and sit down to eat. Of course, the muzak was wafting down from the ceiling speakers, and of course a song, which prior to that very moment, I had felt relatively indifferent toward came on. Marvin Gaye's Sexual Healing.

Marvin Gaye - Sexual Healing
Uploaded by chilavert

No disrespect to Mr. Gaye, he's a legend and all, but I have simply heard this song waaayyy too much on the radio, not to mention at disparate and wildly inappropriate times: driving one's mother to the mall for some shopping(where she will purchase nothing), or dining alone in a semi-fast food restaurant. I'm considering drawing up a petition to have the song banned from the airwaves for a period of not less than a decade, as that should be just about the time needed to purge its flagrantly unsubtle lyrics from the collective unconscious and renew it's disconcerting catchiness.

That's all for now.

res

Viruses, Chocolate, and Maybe Flowers: Valentine's Day 2009

Frustrating day.  I'm supposed to be composing my next great blog post, but instead I'm writing this.  My apologies.

It's not that I haven't accomplished anything today, on the contrary, I have finished assembling the entertainment center I've been assembling for two days now—which may have resulted in my decision to never buy furniture again unless a) it's preassembled, b) a professional assembler person comes to my home directly after purchase of such an item, or c) there is a breakthrough in nanotechnological self-assembly in the near future and whatever new piece of furniture you buy will just grow where ever you put it. I could have gone to a woodworking shop in the forest and made my own entertainment center in less time, not to mention that I would then know how to make entertainment centers from 'scratch'.

Aside from building projects completed, I've been on the phone today inquiring about dinner reservations at various restaraunts for Saturday, which is, as you may be aware V-Day.  Normally, and for many more years than I care to count, I have viewed Valentine's Day through the bitter lens of singality, stumbling through public spaces, head down, casting slit-eyed looks of disgust toward any couples I spied. But this year is different. This year I am un-single! (That's right ladies, I am off the market, so save your breath, really) (Actually, there is one chick who's kinda stalking me, no joke, it's kind of scary. That's a post all by itself.)

Being un-single is, well, different. Being un-single on or near February 15 is ulcer inducing. I'm so stressed out about getting her the right gift. Is she going to like it, or is she going to do the internal cringe thing and say that she loves it? Is she alergic? Will she actually wear that?

I think I've got a pretty good gift though, I mean what girl wouldn't want one of these? No, that's not really what I got her, though the thought did cross my mind. She seems to have an aversion to diseases and viruses. Go figure.

So yeah, this is my first observed Valentine's Day in a while and, though I still approach it with no small amount of skepticism and hesitation, I'm actually looking forward to not feeling the overwhelming bitterness that usually afflicts me in early February. Sure it's basically one big commercialized cluster-fuck designed to make lonely people all over the world shoot themselves in the face, but hey, it's an excuse to buy chocolate and spend time with someone I care for(despite the deadly virus/cute toy crossover hate). 

Neither bitter, nor alone this V-Day. Things are looking up.

res

Go Ahead, Put em in Office

Couldn't resist this prompt over on the new—and pretty dang cool, if I do say so myself—plinky.com. Put together your very own dream team cabinet for the White House; politicians are optional.

Stephen Hawking
C'mon, it's Hawking.

Ron Paul
Quite possibly the last honest politician left, and someone who (gasp!) wants to follow the constitution.

Tom Hanks
He's seems a genuinely good guy, and has always struck me as unwaveringly fair, and sensible.

Richard Dawkins
Probably don't need to explain this one either. Somebody's gotta talk some sense...

If Only I......

The burn of embarrassment is, in some sense, the pilot light of motivation.

Lifehacker, citing a New York Times article, posted an interesting bit on self-handicapping yesterday which really hit home with me. 

Self-handicapping is when we make excuses for failure or poor performance and usually resorts to pinpointing an external source as the cause.  It's supposed to help us feel better about ourselves, but according to the article it can actually be a detriment, and insidiously self-reinforcing.

I see this all the time in my own endeavors.

If only I had a pen and some paper nearby I'd add this to my New Year's Resolution list.....

[via Lifehacker]

 

Imaginary Friends

Many children have imaginary friends in their...childhood, and it is not necessarily considered abnormal behavior, unless perhaps, it gets out of hand and, at the behest of these ethereal companions, beloved pets and local animals start turning up mutilated and drained of blood, and little Joey's parents suddenly realize he has no real friends, and is, frankly, an unnerving boy to be around. There is then the usual cascade of sad events leading up to and possibly including the walls of their once happy home bleeding, torture and dismemberment and anyone lucky enough to survive the ordeal fleeing in horror.  That's just an example, of course, and not at all typical.  Certainly not my experience, but I too had a cadre of invisible companions and though I never turned to mutilation, my time with IF's was perhaps not within the norm.

It was a group of about five, though I can't remember all their names I know there was Billy, and Ray, and Timmy.  Billy was kind of the leader of the group, everyone deferred to Billy, he was a tough one.  Actually they were all kind of tough, and, interestingly enough they could drive. I suppose they had their own car though I can't remember where they got it.

I beleive the boys and I had several adventures, though nothing specific comes to mind.  And this is probably due to their untimely demise in a car wreck.  They ran off the road near home on a particularly hilly, curvy road and fell to their deaths when I was still young.  I can still tell you exactly where their car left the road and plunged into the heavily wooded valley below.  As I recall, this was a rather significant event in my young life and every time we drove by the area I would inform anyone who would listen—which means anyone unfortunate enough to be in the car with me—of the tragic event.

Looking back on it I find it odd, and perhaps unfortunate, that none of the adults who's care and nurturing I depended upon took issue with such uncharacteristic and potentially disturbing imaginings of an otherwise normal boy.  And no doubt it speaks volumes of my adult emotional makeup.  I cannot recall meeting another individual who's imaginary childhood friends' lives were tragically cut short, and this too I find odd and disconcerting. 

In case any are wondering, yes, I have been taking my medication and I feel fine....besides that was a long time ago and as they say, time heals all wounds.  If anyone would like to share their IF stories, feel free.


residuetiger

America

3quarksdaily posted the following poem by  Langston Huges that I thought was so relevant after yesterday's historic election and echoes some of the points from president-elect Obama's moving speech last night in Chicago:

 

Wednesday Poem

Let America be America Again
Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

Read the full post here.

Watching that speech and seeing the crowd I was struck by a sense of possibility and opportunity.  For the first time in a long time I was inspired and awed at a renewed glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, America can dig its way out of the abyss which this great experiment has been slipping into.

Undoubtedly we romanticize the founding fathers and the earlier times in our nation's history, but I believe America was once great, and can be so again.  Here's hoping that we are launching ourselves into a new era.

[ via 3quarksdaily ]

Perfection

It's been a few weeks since my first post and I've been wracking my brain trying to whip up an acceptable second.  This isn't exactly what I had in mind, as it is basically a post on not actually having a post yet, but perhaps you'll just think I'm clever.

The problem I find myself facing is that in my mind each of my posts would be exemplary specimens of the written word, filled with pithy goodness, and stimulating discourse on the human condition of such intellectual quality as to leave the reader speechless and enthralled.  Yes, I know, I've got a long way to go.  No, really, I know.  Let's move on.

This raises an issue I've long struggled with in writing:  perfectionism.  When it comes to writing—and I know I'm not alone in this, thank the gods—I am my own worst enemy.  When I sit down to write, some Kurt Vonnegut-inspired voice in my head comes screaming to the front of the line with the expectation that whatever lands on the page, or screen, must be without flaw and worthy of literary acclaim.  Perfect.  (Vonnegut, I believe I have read, was rumored to be one of those writers who would yank a flawless, completed page from the typewriter, smacking it down on a stack of equally flawless pages nearby, all practically ready to ship off to the publisher).  This is clearly impossible, and frankly, someone should have told Vonnegut as much.  The only thing more maddening than the fact that I can't seem to pull it off is the fact that writers we all know and love seem to do it regularly.  And we hates them, my precious.

Hate, perhaps, is a strong word here, so I will offer up in its place a subtle, yet powerful, soul-tainting dislike.  Writer Anne Lamott in her book Bird by Bird—which I highly recommend to any struggling writer—relates that there are very few such preternaturally gifted individuals and it's alright to wish ill of such people.  I do not want to ill-wish, want I want to do is write, but rubbing my open eyeballs with thirty grit sandpaper sometimes seems a more pleasing, and easier proposition.  I know, I know, no one said it would be easy, and I have no idea where I picked up the crazy notion, but, there it is. 

How is it that I should expect master level results of my first attempts in an endeavor—especially one as mysterious as writing—when in dealing with almost anything else one might attempt, practice is the watch word?  Lamott goes on to say that we should expect nothing of ourselves at first but "shitty first drafts".  It's a refrain oft repeated in many books on writing; just get something on paper, polish it later, no  one ever need see it, don't worry.  But here's what pops tiny blood vessels in my head:  it's actually quite easy to write shitty, on that I am a certified master.  I want good, or at least decent.

It's a conundrum.

Spinoza said that all excellent things are as difficult as they are rare.  And while excellent writing isn't necessarily rare, it is indeed excellent when experienced and a worthy goal of any writer.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some shitty writing to finish.

residuetiger

Third Life

My life, in the parlance of our times, sucks; only a third into t and I feel as though I've run, full-on into a gigantic brick wall which spans my entire horizon.  This collision has apparently restored just enough of my objectivity and sanity to realize that my life as I dreamed it would be, or should be by this time resembles, almost in no way my present existence.  That somehow, without realizing it, I've lost my way, lost my joy, my capacity to have fun, my sense of direction and purpose.  I find myself spinning my wheels in a job which I hate, and disillusioned that the land of milk and honey I envisioned on the far side of a college degree never really materialized.  Something just isn't right.  It's as though I've been asleep for thirty-four years, and have been rudely awakened, find myself lost on a barren plain of unending sameness where there is little meaning, and the horizons are totally devoid of points of hope or interest.  Yes Timmy, I think I'm having a third-life crisis.

I have found that it helps to have a name for such a time, otherwise it could me I'm just a loser with a penchant for morosity and, no life.  Tibetan Buddhist Pema Chodron describes a similar situation in her aptly named book When Things Fall Apart .  The rug gets pulled out from under you, your entire facade crumbles and you realize you're completely vulnerable and worse, other people--your friends and loved ones included--can probably see it.  You may realize you are not who you thought you were and almost certainly do not have the things you wanted for your life, or more importantly, the things you need.  You may realize, perhaps for the first time, that you have no idea what you're doing or even what it is you want.  You might experience a piercing moment of panic and be overcome by a desire to flee, until, that is, you realize you cannot run away from yourself.  And there friends is the rub, because with that dawning, bright as the morning sun revelation comes the knowledge that you're going to have to face up to your life as it is, make the necessary changes which can often be difficult, or settle in for the next fifty or so years with mindless drudgery and the scars of things that might have been as your best friends.  Chodron calls this 'getting nailed to the spot by life'.

A decade or so back, this kind of rough spot in life was usually reserved for forty or fifty somethings.  But as those folks, so we're told, keep getting younger and younger(forty being the new thirty and all), their breakdowns in life's emergency lane get handed down to us younger folks without so much as a thank you or an offer of a ride passed all the hullabaloo to firmer ground.  We're left to figure things out on our own, but then perhaps this is the way it's always been.  Perhaps it's given to all of us to arrive at a point which requires a complete redefinition of who we are.

To illustrate, walk into any major bookstore, find the section on careers and you will see the shelves crammed with books on finding job happiness, or the 173 absolute best careers for your personality(this may actually be a title).  Move over to self help or spirituality, or even the science section and you'll find more titles on discovering true happiness and wellbeing, simplifying your life, or learning how to carry a warm fuzzy feeling with you everywhere.  So in a way it's reassuring to know that I am not the only person to make it well into adulthood before realizing I have somehow completely misjudged my own needs and desires.  But also, if you think about it, it's somewhat disturbing to find that we need books to tell us how to find happiness.  We're obsessed with it, much like we're obsessed about weight, our health, and what celebrities are wearing this week.  Happiness, these days, seems to elude us like a wily prey avoids the hunter.  It's a condition that's on the rise it appears, and I think it says a lot about our culture.

Today's world is a tough one, and if the daily news is any indication it doesn't seem to be getting any better.  Is it any wonder we are desperately seeking security and stability, two things which seem to be particularly lacking these days?  Is it any wonder, in this modern age of more, faster, better we find ourselves at crossroads scratching our heads, pondering what it is exactly we're here for?

As I said earlier, I know I'm not alone in this.  You might not be calling it a crisis yet, but you may be recognizing a distinct lack in your life, an ethereal dissatisfaction which resists classification.  I think it behooves us all to make a serious effort at identifying this phantom uneasiness; we may just find that underneath all that clutter are our dreams waiting for us to pick them up again in tender but determined hands.