bookmark_borderAnd so I'm back… *

Back less than a day and already my calendar is filling up. Hey, it’s not my fault I’m popular. Right?

In the week I was gone not a lot happened really, the holiday was good but nothing to write home about, so I didn’t. That plus the fact that we’d have been home before any postcard arrived. Suffice to say that there was a lot of sitting around in the sun, a few meals out (including one gorgeous fillet steak that I struggled to finish and cost all of … £14? would’ve cost me at least £20 here…) and I chipped into the Spanish economy as best I could via the golden nectar that is San Miguel (which shouldn’t really be drunk outside of Spain… nor sober for that matter…).

I read Casino Royale on the plane on the way over (it’s only a couple of hundred pages) and quite enjoyed it. Very old fashioned now but still quite exciting. Then I tackled Watchmen which was very good and has only whetted my appetite for the movie all the more, then it was two very forgettable Grishams (The… summat or other…) left their by, probably, my sister-in-law, then the last Ian Rankin, saying farewell to DI Rebus (perhaps). On the plane on the way home I rifled through The Elements of User Experience by Jesse James Garrett, largely because I’m a big geek and these things interest me (if they interest you too give it a look, it’s a smart book).

Alas I didn’t get to listen to much in the way of music because the cable I took over to charge the iPod Nano wouldn’t charge my iPhone! I’m guessing that’s because my Nano is 4 years old and the cable specifications have changed but… no music for a week!! Agony. Still it did mean I had more quiet times in which to contemplate… well.. all sorts of everything and plenty of nothing.

It was all very relaxing if I do say so.

Which I do.

In fact I just did. Do pay attention.

In other news… there is no other news!

How the hell are you anyway? What ya been up to? Anything new with you? Any revelations? (aside from John Sargeant leaving Strictly obv.) Come on, what was THE defining blog moment in the past 7 days?

* I missed Ohrwurm Wednesday on Twitter ya see…

bookmark_borderCamtasia

Back from a week in Spain (weather was lovely, as was the cerveza and tapas!) I’ve taken some time to look into some suggestions for screen recording.

Part of the developer community website we have was always aimed at providing online video tutorials showing the latest features. However we’ve had acres of issues getting these produced. The recording usually goes ok but editing them and getting them into a format that is acceptable for the website seemed to be causing us problem after problem.

Having checked out all three suggestions, Wink, Demobuilder and Camtasia Studio I have to admit (and you’ve probably already guessed from the title of this post) that Camtasia Studio blew me away. It’s a very slick piece of software, brilliantly designed to lead you further into the complexities it CAN offer without dazzling you with options the frist time you fire it up.

One of the best features, the one that took me by surprise, is called SmartFocus. As you click around the screen it zooms in appropriately and only, rarely, missed a beat in the few demo recordings I took. It’s very impressive, and once you get into editing the recordings, splitting them up, adding transitions, captions, callouts… well I’m sold. As will my company very soon (the purchased order has been raised).

Thanks to all for their suggestions.

If you are looking for a very simple and quick way of recording a screen demonstration (I’ve run up to about 30 minutes without issue) then go download the Camtasia Studio demo copy. You can try it for 30 days and if you are in the market for software like this then definitely give it a look.

Hell, if you have 30 minutes free, download it, install it, record something and watch the playback. You’ll probably start to wonder what you COULD use it for in the future…

Note: I’m not being paid for this, just the opinion of a very impressed first time user.

bookmark_borderVersions

I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. I’m not sure if I’m about to completely humiliate and embarass myself. Or (I hope) this is another one of those things that everyone else does but that we just don’t talk about.

No, not picking your nose…

I adapt who I am depending on who I am with.

The most obvious change is when I’m in a heavily alpha male environment, where I become a lot louder, more forceful and laddish (aka “non-politicially correct) behaviour is not only pushed to the fore but heavily encouraged and instigated.

In less intimidating surroundings I become the joker, eager to make people laugh, possibly eager to gain some level of acceptance (still not sure about that one) and tend to come off as confident, self-assured and a bit cheeky but likeable. Yes, it helps that I’m really REALLY cute.

Those ladies that have met me can feel free to back that claim up in the comments. Or not.

Not you though, Mother.

In the company of close friends I become a little more introspect, and probably closer to my true self. I have nothing to prove and I’m happy that my friends accept me and my faults, as I accept theirs. Although there is always the nagging feeling that they have fewer faults than I.

Then we get to the version of me that few have seen, only a select few are allowed through that door and even then I do tend to tidy up the first few times they visit. After that I tend to start to care less about the appearance back there and at that point you are as close to the true me as is possible.

Finally, there is me. The me only I see and consider, the me that thinks things but never utters them, the me that knows when to shut up and when to push forward. That version of me is ME. My core, my centre, my very being. I don’t understand that version of me all that well, I am still learning all of the foibles, fissures, and flaws that barely scratch the surface.

Oddly enough the older I get the happier I am to let that version of me exist as it wants, no longer do I try to sway and coax it towards the me I think I want to be for, as should be obvious by now, even I don’t know which version of me I want.

To say that there are distinct versions of me is, of course, complete nonsense. Instead the various traits can be found everywhere, manifesting themselves where they aren’t expected. The quiet version of me can still be loud and laddish, the cheeky version of me can be still and introspective.

There is no version of me, I am consistently flawed. Each version can be selfish and compassionate, thoughtless and kind, harsh and tender all at once. Each version breathes with the next, changes with each heartbeat, and remains mercilessly unaware. I am inconsistent, there is no version of me.

bookmark_borderBecause they must

A couple wander through quiet streets and in the darkened night of early winter a storm creeps in overhead. The wind dashes leaves and litter against buildings, rattles them off glass, heralding the change. Swirling eddies race each other across puddles and fingers of icy cold wriggle through gaps in clothing.

They pull their jackets tighter, clinging to each other in warm embrace. They should be inside, they know, but on they walk. Braver now than before, happier and content with each other, relishing raw emotions that still sting as pellets of rain splatter their faces. They knew this was coming, they knew the forecast, but still found themselves eager to be outside. Neither fully understand why but press on if only to remain on the journey.

For the briefest of moments the wind changes direction but soon returns, probing down necklines and through buttoned down coats. It is a strange night to be out in the cold, in the wind and rain that seems determined to invade their every moment but, for now, they don’t care. It is a simple journey, complex by turn, easy to see but hard to navigate, so on they walk, avoiding puddles as best they can and all the while holding each other tight, fearful a gust of wind will snatch the other up into the night, into the dark and beyond.

They utter no sound, offer no competition to the howling of the wind or the constant snare of rain. They are mute with no need to repeat words once spoken, preferring to remember in the hope that memory will lead the way. On they walk.

The rain is heavy now. He pulls his collar tight as she turns and leans into him, closer still, stepping before him, taking her turn to lead the way.

A sudden flash blinds them as a car races past, slick tyres slice through puddles to offer a glance at the road beneath the water, but the tide turns quickly and soon the surface is scarred by jagged lashes.

They wander through the roaring streets, through the explosions in the air that scatters rain and leaves all around them. They should be inside, they know.

But they’d rather be here.

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bookmark_borderBecause they must

A couple wander through quiet streets and in the darkened night of early winter a storm creeps in overhead. The wind dashes leaves and litter against buildings, rattles them off glass, heralding the change. Swirling eddies race each other across puddles and fingers of icy cold wriggle through gaps in clothing.

They pull their jackets tighter, clinging to each other in warm embrace. They should be inside, they know, but on they walk. Braver now than before, happier and content with each other, relishing raw emotions that still sting as pellets of rain splatter their faces. They knew this was coming, they knew the forecast, but still found themselves eager to be outside. Neither fully understand why but press on if only to remain on the journey.

For the briefest of moments the wind changes direction but soon returns, probing down necklines and through buttoned down coats. It is a strange night to be out in the cold, in the wind and rain that seems determined to invade their every moment but, for now, they don’t care. It is a simple journey, complex by turn, easy to see but hard to navigate, so on they walk, avoiding puddles as best they can and all the while holding each other tight, fearful a gust of wind will snatch the other up into the night, into the dark and beyond.

They utter no sound, offer no competition to the howling of the wind or the constant snare of rain. They are mute with no need to repeat words once spoken, preferring to remember in the hope that memory will lead the way. On they walk.

The rain is heavy now. He pulls his collar tight as she turns and leans into him, closer still, stepping before him, taking her turn to lead the way.

A sudden flash blinds them as a car races past, slick tyres slice through puddles to offer a glance at the road beneath the water, but the tide turns quickly and soon the surface is scarred by jagged lashes.

They wander through the roaring streets, through the explosions in the air that scatters rain and leaves all around them. They should be inside, they know.

But they’d rather be here.

bookmark_borderRed Bull

Is Red Bull the Marmite of my generation?

Although strictly speaking, Marmite is the Marmite of our generation but bear with me here…

Red Bull, that sickly sweet, caffeinated drink, the one that gives you WINNGGSSS, seems to be increasingly popular. Particularly when mixed with vodka. Standing at the bar the other night instead of vodka and coke, the tipple of choice for the 30-somethings of the evening appeared to be, almost exclusively vodka and red bull.

As an aside, why is the alcoholic part of a mixed drink always first? You don’t order a Tonic and Gin, do you? Hmmmm.

Where was I? Ohh yes, Red Bull.

Six cans of Red Bull (no vodka) got me through an overnight drive to Torquay a few years ago, and more recently several glasses of Red Bull (with vodka) got me through a night out into the wee small hours of dawn and whilst I’m not sure that it helps, or whether it’s more my ability to handle vodka instead of my usual post-beer tipple (Southern Comfort), I certainly wasn’t suffering as much as I thought I would be (and that includes several tequilas).

That said, it does seem to be a love/hate kinda thing.

So, if Red Bull gives you wings, where would you fly to?