Steve Jobs

So today I got to sit in a room while a bunch of my intern associates asked Steve some questions. Some of them were insightful, some of them were interesting, but I felt a waste of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And some were downright stupid. Like what Apple is going to do about Web 2.0
This question was asked by a girl who also thought it would be a good idea to send a headhunting job offer on the internal mailing list for a start-up who is doing something with Web 2.0

Needless to say, I'm not impressed.

I didn't get to ask my question Jon. Steve talked a lot about how the company was filled with the best and brightest, and the best way to go on is to hire people that are smarter than you at whatever they do. But the finishing speech was about Passion, about you had to have it. About how you could not possibily succeed without Passion, because Passion is what makes you work those long hours, what makes you keep going when it looks bad.

And he's right. My question would have been how to find it, I know I need to have it. But I don't know how to find it. I don't think he would have had an answer that would solve my problems, but he would probably have had something to say about it.

I told my co-workers about that. They pointed me to Steve's Stanford Commencement Speech.

It was interesting to read that. And he's probably right. It may be arrogant to say this, but I think Steve and I think in a very similar way. He has a very irreverant attitude towards things, and thinks about find problems, and then finding solutions for them. But the long and the short of it I think is that you can't be told how to find your passion. You just have to try stuff until you do find it, and don't settle for less.

Hey Randeep, as much as you may envy Jon and I for certain things, I think we both envy you a bit too, because you have found that thing that makes you tick. Found that something that you think about all that time, that something. One thing.

Google Checkout

Google Checkout launched last night. I knew that because my retarded roommates wandered into the house at 4:30 AM and proceeded to do things like talk to each other. When they finally went to bed, I had a dream about relocating the bridges of their noses to a more suitable location (hint: Not a more comfortable one).

I am also HIGHLY irritated because I bought Hitman: Blood Money last night. This looks to be the best Hitman game yet. Except it won't run on my computer because I've got a shitty, shitty video card (nVidia GeForce 4200 Go) which doesn't support Vertex Shader 2.0. I own another game which requires Vertex Shader 2.0, and I managed to hack that into working, but this one just cuts back to the desktop when it gets to the menu.

Back to Google Checkout. It's paypal. It's the same shit. Amazon doesn't use it, eBay sure as hell will never use it. Not compelled to sign up just yet.

Dance Monkeys, Dance

This is you.

A refresher

This evening I attended a talk hosted by The Long Now Foundation given by Brian Eno and Will Wright.

The evening was... well, to be blunt, spectacular. It was largely a discussion of the impact and effectiveness of generative art in society, led by the man who invented ambient music (Much of which is created by having multiple bits of music run at different paces so that they repeat, but become more and more out of sync) and the man who brought forth gaming as a user-created experience to the world. You could almost see the energy in the air as the two rebounded off each others thoughts, resonating with each other to greater and greater heights.

I think I've forgotten that while little trivial passions may be irrelevant in one step, they can inspire others to create things that are not, but would never have been if not for a silly little game made in someone's spare time. So much of my life has become about how to acheive power and greatness and wealth that I've been ignoring that increasingly gaping desire to create things that interest me, not just creating things so that someone else can make money.

This has perhaps... potent bearings on the future.

Extreme Diet Coke and Mentos Experiment

A few months ago I was telling a bunch of people about the joys of diet coke and mentos. This video has been out for a while, and if you haven't seen it, you're dead to me.

Allow me to rectify that for you...

Captains Log: Stardate 9986.104 - Sentient Meat

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"

"So... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"So what does the meat have in mind?"

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat?"

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"

"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."

"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how utterly, cold this galaxy would be if one were all alone with no-one to talk to but meat."

Posted by: w9sz@prairienet.org (Zack Widup)

There's something odd about the fact that most of my current desires in life involve the buying of things.  Predominantly, things that are silver and/or black.

A new Aluminum Wallet.
A new computer, Silver and Black, Side mounting DVD
A black Solstice
A penthouse condo, Black wall sconces, leather couch, appliances, hardwood floorings.

Conversations late into the night about lack of passion for anything.  And where does my bookish nose lead me next.

Many seem to be concerned that I don't seem happy here.  I wonder if this is really the case, or a reflection of their unhappiness with me being here upon me.

The joys of voyeurism

So Kate has been noticing that her alcohol has mysteriously been disappearing, and the suspect was the landlord. This is gross as hell, and creeps me out more than a little.

Well gentle reader, now there's video evidence, and that fucker is going down hard.

Steve, the mastermind of this operation has the story well documented, and I would not take away from his moment in the spotlight, so without further adieu:

A story for the ages

Steve's new answer to the greatest accomplishment in his life