Joshua Go

Earlier this year, I mentioned that I was working on a desktop application, a client for Google Blogger, written in Java with the Swing GUI toolkit. I recently found some time to work on the enhancements that I said I wanted to do during my last update, and I'm ready to release the application to the world. Get a ready-to-run file at the Lumberjack download page . Just download the JAR file, save it, and run it; it will work as long as you have a Java runtime installed. If you're running Windows, Mac OS X, or Linux, you probably do. If you have trouble logging in, you may have to solve a Google CAPTCHA first. You should only have to do it once. If you're a developer, you'll find the source code at the Lumberjack GitHub repository . Simply run ant to build the application. (Yes, I put a lot of effort into getting this one-step build working.) Patches, questions, and suggestions are most welcome. Just leave a comment on this post.

When I'm by myself, when it's quiet with no distractions pulling me in a million directions, I automatically start to dream and envision great things. All of my scattered realizations and fleeting memories somehow just coalesce to give me more clarity about myself and what I'd like to do. It's as if a master blueprint is forming in my mind. It's not a time for questions about implementation or feasibility, but for consideration of what should be done simply because it's the right thing to do. There's no cacophony pressing from without, clamoring that it can't be done or that it's not worth the time, effort, or attention.

I've always had trouble keeping my sentimental cycles synchronized with what the calendar officially sanctions. This year is no different. I got into a very thankful mood early — well before Thanksgiving Day rolled around. Days before Thanksgiving proper, I was working on writing the bulk of my post-wedding "Thank You" cards. True to my high ideals and impractically grand ambitions, I didn't want to just write a generic, canned response to everyone; I wanted each card to be sincere and personalized for each recipient. For I follow the golden rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." If I am deeply insulted and take personal offense whenever someone sends me a generic message disguised as a customized one, why would I inflict the same on others? Faced with the task of writing so many customized notes to so many people, it was hard to even get started — but good old engineering experience soon kicked in. Whenever I find it hard to get started ...

You've seen them around the web: they're the blocks of text appearing under the headlines, giving you a little more information on what the linked article is about. If the headline didn't tell you enough, the summary or excerpt is supposed to serve as a sort of fall-back mechanism to tell you a little bit more. The websites of such longtime print titans such as The New York Times , The Economist , and The Wall Street Journal tend to have good summaries beneath their headlines. They know how summaries should be written — by hand. They are, after all, the professional producers of such content and have a vested interest in getting that content viewed. Those who are a few steps removed from the production of such content, on the other hand, make it readily apparent that they just don't care. Two of the most surprising offenders are Google and Apple — ironically, two media darlings who appear regularly in feature articles. A quick jaunt over to Google Finance gives us an ...

As someone who is rabidly individualistic, working with other people isn't something that's hard-wired into me. For this, I've been chided by friends and family members who hold collective effort up as a sacred cow. They cannot possibly fathom why anyone would question the merits of working together. I remember reading (probably in the Harvard Business Review) that this teamwork mindset is prevalent especially among my generation, which grew up playing team sports and doing group projects in school. Contrast this with the modus operandi of previous generations of workers, who were much more individualistic: put your nose to the grindstone, pull your weight in the organization, and let your merits stand on their own. In this sense, I am very much a traditionalist. But I've been through some fiery projects in school and during my consulting days working with clients. Massive requirements and short deadlines have a way of focusing the mind and forcing the casting aside of ...

Last Saturday, Sophia and I went to Disneyland to celebrate my birthday and to spend some time together, since our work schedules haven't really overlapped favorably in recent weeks. We were in line for the Matterhorn , and as decent, upstanding Disneyland patrons, we took our places at the back of the snaking line. It was a long line, but it was what one would expect for a Saturday at Disneyland. It was moving at a good clip — faster than the 405 near Santa Monica during rush hour, anyway. About halfway through, a suspicious looking Asian guy wearing sunglasses sidled up next to me from out of nowhere. For a good three seconds, he stood there without saying a word. I thought that he was expecting to be recognized, but upon closer inspection I could recall no previous association with him. When he finally said something, he said, "Hey man, you mind if I get behind you? The line is really long and I don't want to wait in the back." Flabbergasted at the audacity of th...

Among the key elements of my father's network of enterprises are the fixer-upper houses which he rents out. As soon as my brother and I were old enough to be of use on these construction sites, Dad would take us along. I hated the messiness of the building process. The floor would typically be littered with drywall chunks. Shattered roof tiles sat in piles on the front yard, and sawdust was sprinkled over everything. When it was all done, though, with everything cleaned up, I felt accomplished for having been a part of bringing about the final outcome. It was more than easy to forget the messy process that brought about the end result: forgetting was automatic. It actually took me conscious effort to remember what it took to get there. While I was in the thick of it, it was discouraging to see the mess in front of me, because it just didn't seem possible that everything could be made right again. All I saw was a seemingly intractable mess. My father, on the other hand, never se...