I've seen a lot of hype lately about how Apple's hypothetical "iPad" will change the book industry. Hell, O'Reilly wrote a piece on it today.

It's just wrong.

(And no, not in the way that "any speculation is bound to have some false-itude in it". It's wrong in the "they're basing their comparisons on incomparable situations" way.)

People talk about how Apple's iPod revolutionized how we listen to music. Damn right it did!

• It changed how we listen to music -- on machines smaller than our hands
• It changed where we listen to music -- literally, anywhere
• It changed the status of MP3s -- from "only crackpots could think this is legal" to "I'm buying my niece an iTunes gift card"

I know it's super-late, but I just had to tell you about my inspiration today.

I met the most fantastic person on the bus this evening. His name -- and I know I'm butchering its spelling -- is Sumaje. We were both sitting at the bus stop at Fullerton and Western, waiting for our ride. As I finished my chapter in Zig Ziglar's Secrets of Closing the Sale, he struck up a conversation, asking me about books.

"What book is that?"

"Secrets of Closing the Sale, by Zig Ziglar. Why do you ask?"

"I've been reading lately, and I'm always on the lookout for new books."

He read two books this past two months, more than he -- or most people for that matter -- had in a while. When he asked for a recommendation, I immediately jumped to Moneyball. It's an ultra-accessible book, a fun read, and teaches a valuable lesson: even when you think you're not "judging a book by its cover," you still (probably) are. 

He mentioned that he wasn't into baseball, but it sounded like a good book, and he would trust me because I mentioned that I, too, ramped up my reading this summer.

We then spoke about what we're up to. He works at a Walgreens, but really wants to work in the videogame industry. In fact, he was in school, learning to be a video game designer, up until recently. He dropped out because he "was staring at a computer screen all day, writing code, and that just wasn't what [he] wanted to do".

He's worked a couple of other jobs since, and described one of his bosses to me.

"So, Sumaje. What do you want to do?"

"I want to work with videogames."

"But there's no money in that. You'll never make a living."

"You have a kid. Have you ever bought them a videogame?"

The manager nods, getting his point.

Sumaje's a hustler. He's working his current job, but he knows he's working himself towards something greater. You should have seen the sparkle in his eye when he spoke about hanging out on the Penny Arcade forums, or other notable video game communities. About how he's meeting people there, getting to know them and trying to find some exciting work with them.

You should have seen how enthusiastically he spoke about visiting his friend who just moved down to California, in order to develop iPhone games where the community was hot.

You should have heard him talk about how he was going to open those books he still had from video game design school and try going at his own pace, modifying the exercises to write code that's exciting to him, not that the teacher wants to see.

Sumaje knows that he's "destined for greatness." He knows that where he is now isn't where he wants to -- or is going to -- be in 5 years. And he knows that nobody's going to take him anywhere but himself.

And he really seemed to take it to heart when I told him my philosophy, one that I've internalized from knowing my parents, reading Zig's book, and working with Seth and Andy:

"Everything in this world is selling. One of the best services you can do for yourself is learn how to present your ideas, your products, and yourself in ways that others are able to understand."

I hope he took that to heart, and that it helps him on his path. I already know that, on my end, meeting him was the most positive thing to happen to me this month.

--Aidan

Last week, while reading David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day, I thought to myself: "I can write like this. Hell, I could probably write better than this. Why don't I?"

The answer slowly dawned on me this last few days: I don't have any "Artist" stories.

As vague as that term is, you know what I mean. I've never cut off a body part out of angst, or even to prove my affection for someone. I once entertained the thought of keeping every strand of hair cut off my head, but that didn't last: the envelope I used to catch the falling trimmings started to burst at the seams. I've only worked one superbly mis-matched job, and was fired rudely after spending two weeks trying to give notice of a day I needed off.

While I engage in crazy self-narration, it only happens with people, not places, objects, animals, or events. And, while I like to think that I'm pretty open to new experiences, I'm ultimately (like everyone else), a creature of habit.

I have, at best, three stories that are really worth strangers' time. But, after the sheer "I can't believe this is actually happening"-ness of last night, I've now had a taste of "Artist" stories.

And man, I ain't ever going back.

--Aidan

P.S. I'm considering writing up the tale of last night. But, because of some parts (nothing lewd, I just don't feel it should be publicly accessible), I don't want to send it to you here. Instead, if it ends up being written, I'll send it out through a private email list. And, of course, you can subscribe if you want to, Post.