Think Different.

By now, it's likely you've heard about the death of 56 year-old Steve Jobs, co-founder of Apple, Inc. (among his many successful endeavors). He was a cultural revolutionist of sorts--a man who wasn't afraid to challenge the status quo in a way that has changed the human race forever. As I type away on my MacBook at this very moment (a possession I take with me almost as many places as I carry my iPhone), I'm staring into the result of human ingenuity at its finest. Prior to Apple, personal computers were purely functional possessions comprised of a confusing array of hard drives and mechanical cookies--an unnavigable jungle that was more frustrating than user-friendly. You could say that Apple was our first taste of a truly delicious brand, one that has resonated with consumers across the globe for its ability to connect with users on a deep emotional and self-expressive level. We've come to establish a relationship with our Apple products that resembles real human interaction, sometimes even more dependable than those of our living counterparts. What happens when our contemporaries are busy and we're left to our own devices? We tune out the world with our iPod, tweet about making our life sound way more interesting than it really is via Twitter Mobile for iPhone, or flip open our MacBook to double check our "busy" friends' Facebook profiles to ensure they're not just blowing us off (there's no room for lying these days). Apple: there for us when no one else is. It's strikingly sad but true.

While we can thank Steve Jobs for his innovative brilliance in developing personable technology, I'd argue that his greatest gift was his nonconformist ideology that he most willingly shared with the Millennial generation. At a commencement address to Stanford University several years ago, Jobs reminded graduates that the best work stems from real, gut-wrenching passion. Love what you do and the rest will be history. It might be a jagged path, but you'll know when you're there. All Jobs asked is that we never cease to "think different" along the way. I'll do my best, Mr. Jobs.

Thank you--for everything.

The Waiting Game

I'm usually excited to turn the page on my monthly calendar, but today is different. I find myself in a sort of limbo, a place where the past forms one big blur of nostalgia and the future is, well, questionable at best. I've grown accustomed to the past four years of college life where each semester led predictably to the next like a transcontinental train ride with stops only for winter and summer breaks.
Yet here I stand in this confusing place called Seniorland not knowing what tomorrow will bring. It's rather unsettling to say the least. I might be up for the occasional surprise, but one thing's for certain: I've never been much of a fan of ambiguity. Guess that explains why 80% of my wardrobe is either black or white. I don't do well with shades of gray.

As I place my mug of tea atop my desk calendar, the month of September stares back at me asking, October has arrived, what are you really afraid of?

I'm afraid to admit that I'm ready to let go.

What happens when I do? Guess we'll just have to wait and see.