Journals5
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Son of Right Hand
3 min read
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iPhone
2 min read
I just bought myself a new iPhone today. No, I didn't get the 4G, and I have many reasons to why not. First off I bought my iPhone for $50 dollars. Great deal if yo ask me. I had just recently bought the new blackberry Curve so there was no way I was spending 300+ dollars to buy a brand new iPhone without a contract. So what I did was buy my buddies perfectly good iPhone 3G that works amazingly.
I have to say I had been a skeptic towards iPhones for a while now. As a BlackBerry addict I had gotten used to the keypad and how the phone actually worked. Now that I have my new iPhone I have finally found love. As much as I love the Curve the iPhone is in a whole other level.
Recommendation
Anyone with enough money to spend on a iPhone+data package should. The phone is amazing. From the apps to the keyboard, to its workability and interface.
Its a phone that could and will be fun for all ages, and all types of styles, from gothic to prep, from gangster to emo, the iPhone has something for everyone.
Conclusion
Buy a damn iPhone if you can afford the steep pricing!
- Greg
I have to say I had been a skeptic towards iPhones for a while now. As a BlackBerry addict I had gotten used to the keypad and how the phone actually worked. Now that I have my new iPhone I have finally found love. As much as I love the Curve the iPhone is in a whole other level.
Recommendation
Anyone with enough money to spend on a iPhone+data package should. The phone is amazing. From the apps to the keyboard, to its workability and interface.
Its a phone that could and will be fun for all ages, and all types of styles, from gothic to prep, from gangster to emo, the iPhone has something for everyone.
Conclusion
Buy a damn iPhone if you can afford the steep pricing!
- Greg
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And Then, He Was No More
6 min read
This here is a short story I wrote for my english class. The story came out so descriptive that I got it published in the schools Language Arts club. Id like to share it with the world and here what everyone thinks about it.
And Then, He Was No More
By Greg Eyton-Jones
A cold winter night, the icy cold air numbed my throat and lungs as I inhaled on my smooth white cylinder of death. I always knew I'd be a smoker, even as a child I enjoyed the smell of a freshly light cigarette. My best friend Tom and I would sit on the swing set at the local park a few blocks down from my house and watch the older kids smoke their cigarettes. The crackling of the wood and tobacco always made me smile and think about what it would be like to one day enjoy my own. Tom and I were good looking kids, Tom more so then I. He was slim and tan all year round, his smooth brown hair would wave in the wind as he walked and his eyes were a piercing electric blue. I was a little more on the heavy side I guess, a little overweight for my age, Tom wouldn't let me forget it either, he would always make fun of me and remind me that he was thin and I was fat. It never seemed to bother me as kids, we were best friends and I knew that he meant it in a nice, fun, friendly way.
"Hey lu-nch box!" A voice shouted from the back of the bar, "lunch box!" the volume of the voice rising above that of the crowded bar. Although it had been a while since I had last heard the voice, I recognized it, even in the drunken state that I hadn't had a chance to experience it in. The word "hey" was slurred and the "lunch box" was said in two tones. I turned to face the rear of the bar only to see my old friend Tom drunk as a skunk with a beer in hand.
"Hey Tom. How have you been?" I asked in a cold, heartless monotone voice. Tom and I hadn't spoken in well over 10 years, as I got older I couldn't handle the insults and rude remarks that Tom continued to use as we aged.
"Yea, I'm goo-ood Mark." He slurred his eyes were slightly closed and he made it seem as though his head was too heavy for his neck to hold as it drooped down toward the bar. He was not as good looking as I remembered, his eyes still piercing blue but lifeless, his hair still brown but not well kept as if he just didn't care anymore, he even began to get a gut, I assumed it was because of the beer. He didn't look the same, he looked as if he had Down syndrome the way he was speaking and the way his face sagged down like he was a 90-year-old awaiting death. "How about yourself," he yelled to me spraying saliva all over his chin.
"I've been good Tom, I'm currently the coach of a junior triple A hockey team. I go to-"
"Coach? Ha-ha-ha," Tom cut me off like as if what I had to say meant nothing to him at all, "How could you be a coach? You were never even good at hockey to start with." Tom continued to laugh in my face, I sipped slowly on my now not so refreshing beer that I just couldn't quite enjoy anymore. His laugh was a terrible ear sore, piercing through my body like the cold wind pierced through a winter jacket.
"Ha. Ha. Ha," the laugh I let out was a not so funny laugh, a laugh as if to say "shut the fuck up, you arrogant prick." I looked around the bar desperately seeking a way for me to escape the awkward situation without snapping.
He continued, "So Mark, I see you haven't lost any weight, what are you now, a double XL?" He laughed again. I smiled, reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a smoke. I put the smoke to my lips and light up. I inhaled, the smoke ran through my lungs once more, it calmed me a little but I had to take another haul, as I starred at Tom laughing. Finally, I couldn't take the humiliation any longer, like a gunman cocking his rifle, I pulled my arm back, and like a spring-loaded trigger I released and hit Tom square in the face. Tom's cheek molded to the shape of my fist, his lips fluttered from the impact, blood instantly dripping from his nose and mouth. All it took was one hit to knock Tom to the floor, without a thought I jumped on top of Tom's limp body and swung both my fists clean into his face one after another, sort of like Mike Tyson when he was winning a big boxing match. There was nothing to stop me from ruining his looks. Back and forth, left hook, right hook, I smiled and enjoyed every second of my triumph. It didn't take long before the bar bouncers tore me away from Tom and his mangled face. I was escorted to the front of the bar where over 75 people watched and starred me down in disbelief, when I regained my grounds after being tossed ever so gently out of the bar I found my self in the arms of two police officers. The blue wearing officers of the law were never good friends of mine. They put me in the back of a police cruiser and ran in to Tom's rescue. Another police cruiser whipped around the corner as if someone was just shot. Following the cruiser was an ambulance, lights flashing and sirens bellowing in the dark night sky. The two paramedics rushed into the bar with nothing more then an empty stretcher. When they returned the stretcher was not empty, on the contrary it was filled with a lifeless body, a body that had once had a soul, a life, a purpose. The paramedic's shook there heads to the officers and looked to their watches, they slowly moved a white sheet over the body that had once had life.
A small tear crawled down my, now, lifeless face as I came to the conclusion that Tom was no more.
And Then, He Was No More
By Greg Eyton-Jones
A cold winter night, the icy cold air numbed my throat and lungs as I inhaled on my smooth white cylinder of death. I always knew I'd be a smoker, even as a child I enjoyed the smell of a freshly light cigarette. My best friend Tom and I would sit on the swing set at the local park a few blocks down from my house and watch the older kids smoke their cigarettes. The crackling of the wood and tobacco always made me smile and think about what it would be like to one day enjoy my own. Tom and I were good looking kids, Tom more so then I. He was slim and tan all year round, his smooth brown hair would wave in the wind as he walked and his eyes were a piercing electric blue. I was a little more on the heavy side I guess, a little overweight for my age, Tom wouldn't let me forget it either, he would always make fun of me and remind me that he was thin and I was fat. It never seemed to bother me as kids, we were best friends and I knew that he meant it in a nice, fun, friendly way.
"Hey lu-nch box!" A voice shouted from the back of the bar, "lunch box!" the volume of the voice rising above that of the crowded bar. Although it had been a while since I had last heard the voice, I recognized it, even in the drunken state that I hadn't had a chance to experience it in. The word "hey" was slurred and the "lunch box" was said in two tones. I turned to face the rear of the bar only to see my old friend Tom drunk as a skunk with a beer in hand.
"Hey Tom. How have you been?" I asked in a cold, heartless monotone voice. Tom and I hadn't spoken in well over 10 years, as I got older I couldn't handle the insults and rude remarks that Tom continued to use as we aged.
"Yea, I'm goo-ood Mark." He slurred his eyes were slightly closed and he made it seem as though his head was too heavy for his neck to hold as it drooped down toward the bar. He was not as good looking as I remembered, his eyes still piercing blue but lifeless, his hair still brown but not well kept as if he just didn't care anymore, he even began to get a gut, I assumed it was because of the beer. He didn't look the same, he looked as if he had Down syndrome the way he was speaking and the way his face sagged down like he was a 90-year-old awaiting death. "How about yourself," he yelled to me spraying saliva all over his chin.
"I've been good Tom, I'm currently the coach of a junior triple A hockey team. I go to-"
"Coach? Ha-ha-ha," Tom cut me off like as if what I had to say meant nothing to him at all, "How could you be a coach? You were never even good at hockey to start with." Tom continued to laugh in my face, I sipped slowly on my now not so refreshing beer that I just couldn't quite enjoy anymore. His laugh was a terrible ear sore, piercing through my body like the cold wind pierced through a winter jacket.
"Ha. Ha. Ha," the laugh I let out was a not so funny laugh, a laugh as if to say "shut the fuck up, you arrogant prick." I looked around the bar desperately seeking a way for me to escape the awkward situation without snapping.
He continued, "So Mark, I see you haven't lost any weight, what are you now, a double XL?" He laughed again. I smiled, reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a smoke. I put the smoke to my lips and light up. I inhaled, the smoke ran through my lungs once more, it calmed me a little but I had to take another haul, as I starred at Tom laughing. Finally, I couldn't take the humiliation any longer, like a gunman cocking his rifle, I pulled my arm back, and like a spring-loaded trigger I released and hit Tom square in the face. Tom's cheek molded to the shape of my fist, his lips fluttered from the impact, blood instantly dripping from his nose and mouth. All it took was one hit to knock Tom to the floor, without a thought I jumped on top of Tom's limp body and swung both my fists clean into his face one after another, sort of like Mike Tyson when he was winning a big boxing match. There was nothing to stop me from ruining his looks. Back and forth, left hook, right hook, I smiled and enjoyed every second of my triumph. It didn't take long before the bar bouncers tore me away from Tom and his mangled face. I was escorted to the front of the bar where over 75 people watched and starred me down in disbelief, when I regained my grounds after being tossed ever so gently out of the bar I found my self in the arms of two police officers. The blue wearing officers of the law were never good friends of mine. They put me in the back of a police cruiser and ran in to Tom's rescue. Another police cruiser whipped around the corner as if someone was just shot. Following the cruiser was an ambulance, lights flashing and sirens bellowing in the dark night sky. The two paramedics rushed into the bar with nothing more then an empty stretcher. When they returned the stretcher was not empty, on the contrary it was filled with a lifeless body, a body that had once had a soul, a life, a purpose. The paramedic's shook there heads to the officers and looked to their watches, they slowly moved a white sheet over the body that had once had life.
A small tear crawled down my, now, lifeless face as I came to the conclusion that Tom was no more.
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MacBook Pro
1 min read
Hello world!
Today I caved and bought a Macbook Pro. So far I have to say that I am really enjoying it. Its got a lot of great features and the graphics seem to kick ass. I havent used it to its full potential yet as I have yet to purchase Adobe Suite for the Mac.
Any have any comments on using a mac for design. I'd like to here what you have to say about the mac!
Later
Today I caved and bought a Macbook Pro. So far I have to say that I am really enjoying it. Its got a lot of great features and the graphics seem to kick ass. I havent used it to its full potential yet as I have yet to purchase Adobe Suite for the Mac.
Any have any comments on using a mac for design. I'd like to here what you have to say about the mac!
Later
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First Day
1 min read
So its my first day at college today and im studying WebDesign... Great. Starting off with the basics. These classes are more then likely going to be very boring but I will keep you all posted on the work that I have to hand in. Let you guys grade it and tell me if you think I should submit my project or add some extras to it.
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