My family and I were were invited to the grand opening of Legoland Florida. It was awesome! Cool rides, great stores, entire cities built out of Lego… Words can’t describe how incredible this place is! (But video and photographs could probably do the trick!) Here you go:
I always get frustrated when somebody comes up with an incredibly simple idea that makes millions of dollars in a short period of time and then disappears with their wad of cash to a tropical paradise never to be heard from again. Deep down inside I have always believed that is my destiny.
So far, it hasn’t happened for me.
I didn’t write “Everything Men Know About Women” a book that has sold millions of copies and is filled with nothing but blank pages.
I didn’t come up with “Sh!t My Dad Says.” Mainly because I never really listened to my dad when he was talking, and the sh!t I did hear wasn’t all that funny.
I didn’t create “The Million Dollar Homepage” to sell 1,000,000 pixels (which cost absolutely nothing) for $1 each. I mean, it just doesn’t get any more brilliantly simple than that.
I think I am the kind of person with one of those great ideas that is eventually going to erupt from my mind like a volcano and create massive amounts of wealth for me and my family.
The iBeer app is another great example. Why didn’t I think of that? I love my iPhone. I love beer. I kick myself to this day for not being the first one to put those two together.
Sometimes I convince myself that I’m just too talented for ONE big idea. Sometimes I tell myself, “It’s easy to have one GREAT idea. What’s tough is to come up with several thousand really good LITTLE ideas. Not everyone can sit on a beach. Somebody has to talk on the radio everyday and entertain people with witty, non-income generating tweets. In fact, the reason I haven’t come up with that ridiculously simple, highly lucrative, why-didn’t-I-think-of-that idea is because I have too much talent! I am too creative. God wants me working hard everyday! It would not be fair to keep my incredible abilities from the world and just disappear to a tropical island paradise.”
Then I stumble across a TV show about the inventor of “Bubba Teeth” who, to date, has earned over $40 million dollars. I go to my office, close the door, and quietly weep into my iBeer.
Just a week after Bean’s first big hit, he experienced the dark side of T-Ball: Striking out. He was not happy. Not at all.
See, Bean loves to run. The smile on his face as he plows toward first base is one of the greatest sights in the world. When he steps safely on the bag, and the crowd (mostly me) is screaming at the top of their lungs, he knows that he has done well and he is very proud.
But here’s the problem with T-Ball: If you don’t hit the ball, you don’t get to run.
Yesterday, Bean didn’t hit the ball. He missed the first two pitches and flubbed the next two off the T. That’s it. Four tries and you sit back down. Those are the rules, no exceptions. So, instead of running to first like a 45 inch tall Forrest Gump, Daniel was sent back to the dugout…hitless. That’s when the tears started.
Moments ago I heard the news that Steve Jobs died. Appropriately, I got the sad message when a friend texted me on my iPhone.
I never met Steve Jobs. I never heard him lecture. I never read his book or talked to him on the phone. He never leant me money when I was broke. He never gave me advice when I was lost. He never offered me help when I was struggling.
Despite that, Steve Jobs changed my life as much as anyone I’ve ever known.
He changed my life, my relationships, my work, and my entire being. He changed the way I communicate with every single person I know. He changed the way I document and store the most important memories I have. he changed the way I entertain myself and my family. His creativity and imagination have changed the way I showcase and develop my creativity and imagination.
I can honestly say that my life is better because Steve Jobs lived. He lived, he dreamt, and he followed those dreams to an untimely end. I don’t know how to thank him for what he has done. But I’m writing this post, as I do everything else, on a computer that once only existed inside the mind of Steve Jobs.