I admit it. I was a Facebook skeptic for a long, long time. After my very brief flirtation with MySpace (which made my eyeballs bleed from the ugliness of the pages, deafened me with useless background music, frustrated me with the lack of customization and inundated me with countless friend requests from would-be musicians and porn stars), I was slow to even set up a Facebook account, let alone actually start using it.

But here’s the weird thing: Once I finally dared to stick my toes in the water and cautiously start playing with my account, it turned out to be not so bad at all. In fact, it turned out to be a whole lot of fun. I’ve reconnected with some old friends and colleagues, met some new ones, discovered some interesting games, and found another great, fairly harmless way to waste time online.

If you’re like I was, thinking you should give Facebook a try but reluctant to do it, you should probably give it a shot. I bet you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the people you find there, which includes a large and active corps of writerly types, unknown, fairly known and really famous. And as long as you’re relatively cautious about the applications you add to your page and don’t get sucked into too many vampire, werewolf and “Oregon Trail” games, you’ll probably survive just fine.

If you’re already on Facebook or plan on getting there soon, look me up. We’ll be friends, swap a few wall posts, send good karma to each other, and have a rousing game of Scrabulous.

At the risk of turning a “journal of miscellany” into a “journal of technology,” I probably shouldn’t leave the discussion of using the best tools for the job without a word or two about why I like OpenOffice.org. I mentioned that little tidbit in passing during my last post, so perhaps an explanation is in order.

Probably the easiest thing to do is refer you to the OOo Web site. A few minutes spent there and another few minutes poking around the page for OOo Writer will probably give you a pretty good idea why I use it, why I almost never fire up Microsoft Word anymore — at least when I’m away from my “day job” at the newspaper. Unfortunately, the newspaper is still a Microsoft Office office. But at home, whether on desktop or laptop, I turn to OOo over MS every time. (Well … almost every time. Late last year, I toyed briefly with MS Office 2007 and really liked some of the things I saw. But when it came time to convert my free trial to a paid license, there just wasn’t enough there to make me take the leap.)

The benefits of OOo are clear. It’s free, but as fully-featured, complete and robust as MS Office or any other office suite costing hundreds of dollars. It’s open source, which is never my sole deciding factor in choosing software but is always worth a few dozen brownie points. It uses open standards, which is a critical issue for me, yet it’s completely compatible with MS. In other words, if you send me a file created in Word, I can read it and edit it without any problems whatsoever, and I can create files that you can open and read.

I love the fact the OOo gives me genuine alternatives for Word (Writer), Excel (Calc) Access (Base), Paint (Draw) and PowerPoint (Impress). Note those words: genuine alternatives. OOo is not a “lite” version of MS Office. It is not a pale imitation or a pared-down copy, looking similar on the surface but stripped of vital functionality underneath. It is as big and powerful as MS, and in many cases even more powerful. In Writer, for example, the use of style sheets is a tremendous leap forward for anyone who needs to format large and complex documents. And for me, just the ability to export as a PDF file with a single click has saved lots of time and more than a few headaches.

Is it easy to make the switch? Definitely. Getting started is a three-step process: download, install, use. You’ll probably stumble on a modest learning curve when it comes to tapping some of the more advanced features, style sheets being one. But the documentation is good. So is the help available on the OOo forums. In my transition, I never ran across any question that I wasn’t able to answer with a brief search.

In short, OOo is an ideal tool for just about anyone, whether you’re trying to make a statement or make a deadline, whether you’re a rebel who wants to thumb your nose at the tyranny of Microsoft or someone who just wants to keep your nose to the grindstone and get your work done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

I like OOo so much that I joined their community marketing project (gee, can you tell?). But as with anything else I talk about here, your mileage may vary. You might give OOo a spin and think, “nope, not for me.” On the other hand, you might just feel that little electric thrill of discovery that I felt, the excitement of realizing that you can suddenly do the job better than before, of knowing that you will no longer have to suffer (or pay through the nose) to be a prisoner of propietary standards.

Is it worth a try?

Continuing with the theme of using the best tool for the job: How many of you remember Wordstar?

I not only remember it, I actually used it for many years, starting in the 1980s, when I first made the transition from typewriters to computers. For the first few years, it was my only word processor. I went on to experiment with other products, but Wordstar remained my primary means of getting thoughts from my brain onto the screen, and from there onto paper. After seven or eight years, I finally moved on for good, flirting with a succession of mistresses that included Ami Pro and Word Pro, Microsoft Word, and finally OpenOffice.org’s Writer.

I’m not as nostalgic about Wordstar as I am about, say, my old typewriter, but there are days that I miss its simplicity, its outstanding performance, and most of all, its do-one-thing-and-do-it-very-well design. I sometimes wish that I could go back and use it again, just for fun, just for the memories.

If you poke around the Internet, you’ll find that some people are still using Wordstar, including a few well-known writers. One in particular, the great Robert J. Sawyer, has written several times about his love for Wordstar. This piece, more than a decade old now, makes the case that Wordstar may have been the best tool ever invented for creative writing. It’s a fascinating read, even if you never heard of Wordstar and couldn’t care less about all the technical stuff. More recently – just a few weeks ago, in fact – Sawyer posted a shorter piece here, noting that the novel he’s working on now is the 18th he’s written with Wordstar.

Rereading Sawyer’s original essay, I find myself agreeing with almost everything he says. I am not a touch typist, not by a long shot. I am probably the world’s fastest three-fingers-and-a-thumb typist, which means I may not have enjoyed all of Wordstar’s benefits to their fullest. But it occurs to me that the software’s design almost certainly helped turn me into the kind of computer user I am today – that is, a user who relies heavily on keyboard shortcuts, avoids menus as much as possible, and tries to touch the mouse only when absolutely necessary. The keyboard is the conduit from the mind to the page. Every use of the mouse, no matter how brief or how unconscious, is a roadblock that interrupts the creative stream.

It’s no secret that word processing programs – even the best of them, like OOo Writer – have become huge, bloated behemoths. They have gained incredible flexibility and functionality, but at a price. They have strayed far from the goal of early programs like Wordstar, which was to give average writers what they truly needed to be effective. They have become gargantuan bulldozers, capable of carving out lakes and moving mountains, when most of us can really create far prettier gardens with a simple spade.

I’m a Web browser guy, kind of a software guy in general. When I’m working or playing at my computer, online or off, I don’t just care about the project, I care about the tools I’m using to do it. Because I tend to hang around in cyberspace with others of similar persuasion, I sometimes forget that not everyone feels the same way.

With browsers in particular, there are lots of folks who just don’t care what they use to get around the Internet. Many don’t even understand what a browser is. To them, the little blue “e” on the desktop isn’t a shortcut to start one particular Web browser out of many. It’s just “the Internet.” They don’t understand that there are good browsers and bad browsers. They don’t know, or care, that they even have a choice.

I’ve been a dedicated fan of the Opera Web browser (or Internet suite, as its supporters like to think of it) for about seven years now. For the last four of those years I’ve also been an Opera volunteer, working in one capacity or another to improve the product and encourage others to use it.

That last task isn’t always easy. Once you get people to actually try Opera, they become fans, but getting them to try it can be tough. The people who only know the little blue “e” often don’t care enough to install and learn something new, while fans of alternative browsers like Firefox can be just as dedicated in their beliefs as I am in mine, diehards who are difficult to persuade.

(For the record, I also like Firefox a lot. There are several Firefox extensions that I really enjoy and find quite helpful. When I need them, I don’t hesitate to load up Firefox and get to work. I always try to use the best tool for the job, and sometimes that’s the ‘fox.)

When it comes to evangelizing for Opera, I’ve often struggled to explain all of its advantages in a concise, easy to understand way. Fortunately, not everyone has that same problem. Yesterday, I came across a blog post from a Firefox user who gave Opera a shot and liked what he saw. I’ve read many articles like this over the years, but quite frankly, this is one of the best I’ve ever seen. It sums up dozens of Opera advantages in a fair, even-handed, open-minded way, a way that might actually encourage people to make the switch — or at least give Opera a try, after which they can make up their own minds.

I urge everyone, no matter what browser you use, to read this article: A Firefox Lover’s Guide to Opera.

A word of warning, though. Some of the features he talks about are only available in the new beta versions of Opera 9.5, which can still be a bit unstable. If you’re adventurous, by all means, check it out. You might find the benefits worth putting up with the occasional quirks of the beta product. You can always find the latest test releases and snapshot builds here: Opera Desktop Team. You’ll also find changelogs, comments from the developers, and interesting posts from volunteer testers.

If you prefer to use a tried and true stable version of Opera, then you can find it right here, along with tutorials and other helpful information, skins, widgets, an incredible user forum and the whole amazing worldwide community of Opera users.

Read, enjoy, try. Then pick the tool that’s best for the job, best for you.

Just remember that you do have a choice, and choice is good.

A while back, I wrote this post about an eye-popping modification that turned an ordinary computer keyboard into a phantasmagorical typing machine.

A few months after that, I came across this monitor modification from the same amazing craftsman. I should have posted it at the time, but for one reason or other never got around to it. Take a look, and even if you don’t want to read through all the nitty-gritty, be sure to scroll to the bottom of the page for some snapshots of the flatscreen monitor paired with the earlier magic keyboard. Wow.

When I was a senior in high school, I took a psychology class where the teacher taught us to meditate. I doubt it was part of the official state of Michigan curriculum, but it was fun, and hey, it was the ’70s.

I still remember all the steps of his meditation process, which drew on various colors to relax your physical body, mind, emotions, and so forth, even if I don’t recall specifically what each particular color was supposed to do.

In a darkened classroom with soft music playing, we would all close our eyes and put our heads down on our desks, while he talked us through a journey from a bright green meadow, through a deep green forest to a warm sand beach, then into a boat and across a crystal blue lake to an island. On the island was a building, and in the building was a room. That was where the detailed descriptions ended and we were left on our own. Each person was supposed to “design” or “decorate” his or her own room. We were, in effect, creating our own private mental space where we could retreat in a relaxed state to think about things, get creative, solve problems, or just take a refreshing break.

Talking about it afterward, I learned that some of the kids came up with bare, undecorated, unfurnished rooms. I’m not sure what that said about them, if it was good, bad, or a little frightening. Others had rooms that looked like their bedrooms at home or a favorite relative’s house or a place stuffed full of toys and knickknacks and other private, personal things.

My room wasn’t quite like anyone else’s. It was, as I recall, like some kind of wizard’s chambers in a high castle tower — small and cramped with rough stone walls, overflowing with leatherbound books and maps on parchment, gigantic globes and big brass telescopes, crystal balls and hissing gas lamps and weird bubbling potions in beakers. There were also a lot of devices like the marvelous keyboard and monitor. Not exactly like them, of course, since we were still a few years away from the PC revolution at that point and I wasn’t visionary enough to imagine a personal desktop computer. But similar. I specifically remember a large brass typing sort of device with an oversized keyboard and ornate knobs and a long scroll of paper spilling out the back.

We did the meditation thing probably five or six times before moving on to the next item in the syllabus, but those sessions were the highlight of the year for most of us. We talked about them endlessly, and some of us tried to recreate the magic in small groups. It worked, sort of, but was never quite as effective without a skilled leader.

I returned to my island room off and on over the years, but again, it was never the same. Still, I remember the bewitching wonder of those first visits and the childlike awe I felt seeing all those strange devices, those impossible machines that I had created in the recesses of my very own mind, machines that could occasionally be used for some kind of practical work but whose true purpose was hidden from human sight and could never be fully divined.

I guess I was steampunk before steampunk was cool. Or before it was even invented, for that matter.

I want one of these:

Keyboard extraordinaire

No, seriously. I really, really want one.

If I had a keyboard like that, I surely could write the Great American Novel. Or perhaps, if I typed the right combination of keys at the right time of day, on the right day of the month, I would find a way to bridge the gulf of space and time, unravel the eternal mystery, and raise the spirits of H.G. Wells, Arthur Conan Doyle and Jules Verne. Together the five of us — me, Herb, Jules, Artie and the keyboard — would fly around the world in our fabulous airship and have all sorts of astonishing adventures.

Either way, pretty cool.