Monday Musings 8.19.13
I still vividly remember sitting in my fourth grade classroom in front of a Macintosh like it was yesterday. I remember the sound of the keys, the way the clunky boxy mouse felt in my little nine-year-old hands. I remember the plastic smell of the computer. I remember the little icon smiling back at me always seemingly happy to see me (you Mac Lovers know what I am talking about.) I remember staring at the blinking cursor on the blank screen thinking that I could write about anything I dared to dream up. I remember hen-pecking out stories I had written and saving them on a little disk that I guarded with my life. That disk held stories and tales that at one time existed only in my imagination. It was in the fourth grade that I fell in love with writing and the Macintosh.
Fast forward 21 years… I cannot begin to tell you how geeked I was when I found out they were making a movie about one of the most incredible minds of our generation. I was giddy with excitement for weeks. This weekend, “Jobs” finally hit theaters. For those of you who don’t know what I am talking about, click here.
I had read the book and immersed myself into every detail of the life of a man who changed how we experience the world. The movie captured the essence of Steve Jobs in living color for two hours and five minutes.
It. Was. Spectacular.
For an hour after we walked out of the theater, I talked my husband’s ear off about what we just saw. Steve was a visionary. He took what we didn’t know we needed and created technology that we couldn’t live without. People thought he was weird and crazy and insane at times and like all Creatives, he was… And it was glorious.
Steve wanted to world to “Think Different” and many years ago as a little girl I unknowingly bought into that thinking. The technology will come and go, but the legacy that Steve Jobs left will never be forgotten. He forged a path in a world that didn’t always see what he saw. Steve gave us Creatives the permission to unapologetically be who we are. He gave us permission to think we can change the world, or at least our little spot in it.