I just finished the Walter Isaacson biography of Steve Jobs.
Wow.
What a book. What a bio. What a character.
Some things about Steve were really astonishing – like his penchant for crying when things got heated or he wasn’t getting his way. Other things were like reading a story about an old friend. I have, after all, been using Macs since 1990. Earlier, if you count some experiences in elementary and high school. And I’ve been a lover of the Mac way, the Mac aesthetic, the Mac ethos for easily two decades. So I’m pretty familiar with Steve Jobs.
But after three evenings of reading the biography feverishly, I almost feel like I’ve been living with Steve. He was such a vibrant character, such an exception and odd person, such a flawed but gifted genius …
I feel like I know him better and Apple better, and maybe myself better after reading the bio.
I’m ticked off that Steve didn’t get surgery right away when he was diagnosed. His amazing ability to focus when he wanted and ignore when wanted probably ended up killing him.
His crazy diets didn’t help either. Probably Steve would have been a much happier person if he would have just had a frigging cheeseburger occasionally. But he wouldn’t have been Steve, then, would he?
He was one of the crazy ones who believed he could actually change the world. And by sheer force of personality, desire, belief in the impossible, insane chutzpah, and certain knowledge that the rules that most people live by were not for him, he did.
I’d like a little Steve in me.
Just as much, I’d like Steve to pop out and say, “One more thing …” just one more time.
