michaelmistretta.com

I’ve always heard that the beauty of an app is in it’s simplicity, but I don’t know if I ever truly believed it.

Until now.

I’m not a paper guy. I don’t carry around a notebook and pen and constantly oooh and aahhh over the “ruggedness of the paper” or the “roundness of the corners”—although I do admire people that do.

But I do carry my iPhone. Everywhere. And I can type on that little virtual keyboard faster than I can chicken scratch out a sentence with a pen. Yesterday, I wanted a list. A simple, dumb-as-a-doorknob list. And with the 15 bazillion page-flipping, tap tap tapping, use-your-iPhone-as-an-overpriced-flashlight apps out there, I thought a simple list wasn’t such a tall order.

But of course, I was wrong.

I posed the question on twitter and received a variety of mixed responses, none of which satisfied my craving. Sure they had tagging and notes and shiny checkboxes, but what I wanted was a piece of paper. On my phone. Nothing more, nothing less.

I want to be able to write lists like paper, scratch them out like paper, and highlight them like paper. That’s it. I don’t need syncing or tagging or even some sort of web interface. If paper doesn’t have it, I don’t really need it.

Adding a button is easy. Adding value is tricker. And making the website/product/app not get in the way is the most difficult part of the design process. Paper doesn’t get in the way—why should your app?

John Gruber touched on this in his article on the brilliance of the built-in iPhone Notes app:

In an interview with Kyle Baxter in July, Brent Simmons said this regarding his design for the iPhone version of NetNewsWire: “Clarity is more valuable than density.” The iPhone’s Notes app is clear and sparse — or, perhaps better put, clear because it is sparse.

I’m no developer, but I know that when you make an app simple, you make it flexible. And when an app is flexible, it’s able to mold into my workflow instead of forcing my workflow to mold around it.

Now, for my notebook-style lists app: I’ll take a paper-UI, swipe to strikethrough, double-tap to highlight iPhone app with a side order of fries and a large Sprite to go.

Anyone?

Is it conceited to think that you can change the world?

Is it pompous to think that you can be the absolute best at what you do?

There is a line between confidence and ego that I am struggling to define. How do you aim to be better than the status quo, without acting cocky and proud?

You have to believe that your idea is the greatest idea in the world. You have believe with everything in you that you have something special that no one else can ever compare with.

Face it. There are are going to be people that criticize and tear your ideas down. There are going to be the naysayers that say you’ll never make it. There are going to be people calling you fakes and failures and idiots. You have to know in your deepest of hearts that you have something awesome. Something that is life-changing and is just waiting to be discovered by the rest of the world.

Some may call it conceit. Obviously, they are the ones who have never had a fledgling idea of their own. It’s not conceit—it’s confidence. If you don’t fully believe in your idea, and think it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread, then why should I?

This post was never planned, thought-out, procrastinated, or saved as a draft. It just sort of happened.

I’m going to try to communicate a thought; a simple idea really. Hopefully, a little glimpse into my tiny box of a life will somehow be a revelation that inspires and challenges you. And if skimming is your thing, you should probably stop here, as you most likely do not posses the ability to read through a post, much less read into it.

The fact of the matter is, right now (in the greater scope of my life), I am doing something that I’m rather good at, but I don’t enjoy doing. And that’s school. (Which is another story for another day). I know some rather brilliant people in academia that I have the upmost respect and admiration for, but it’s rather absurd that in the 21st century, we can continue to deceive ourselves into believing that there is a single ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach to learning, and that every single unique being learns the exact same way.

Yes, it would convenient if we all did, but we’re human beings—not robots.

So I find myself doing the same kind of mindless rhetoric that has consumed so many other lives. I find myself doing the same thing I vowed I would never fall into. But alas, as humans, life isn’t always about doing what we love, but also doing what we have to do to get to where we want to be.

And then it occurred to me: I don’t have to do this forever. In a mere six months I will have graduated high school, and be free¹ to do whatever I want to do. A mindblowing and daunting thought for a sixteen year-old, I assure you, and a responsibility that my hands still tremble at the thought of.

The point is that one day—in the very near future—I will not have to do anything. I will complete the mandatory part of my life, and will be able to make my own choice as to what I want to pursue.

Now, the million dollar question: what do I want to pursue?

Just for a second, I am going to imagine that there are no restrictions, no limitations, nothing that holds me back from doing whatever I want. Even so, I feel like I have set before me, thousands upon thousands of premade holes to choose from. All of them have their own labels that are very admirable in their own respect: from saving lives, to walking on Mars, to running a Fortune 500 company.

Most people spend the next 10 years of their lives jumping from hole to hole—trying to find one that fits them ‘just right’. There is the occasional person that knows exactly what they want and jumps right into the hole where they belong—but that is a rare, rare, occurrence.

The problem is that I know what I love doing. I know the tools I love using. I know the things I’m passionate about. But for the life of me, I cannot find a hole that fits me.

And with billions of unique individuals on the earth, and only a couple thousand careers, shouldn’t it be more common? Shouldn’t more people try to mold a career around them, instead of mold themselves around a certain career?

Now, the two million dollar question: am I allowed to dig my own hole?

Am I allowed to create a career that is custom-made for me? It is neither better nor worse than your career, because it’s mine. You probably wouldn’t find it interesting, fun, or desirable—and you shouldn’t. Because it’s mine. Not yours. You can go dig your own.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to answer the “what do you want to be when you grow up” question. Ask me what I love and you better grab a hot beverage, as I’ll go on for quite awhile. But ask me to pick a career and I will freeze. Because there are none. The only career I want to pursue is the ‘Michael Mistretta’ career, which I’ve put a lot of thought into, but haven’t gotten around to creating yet.

Increasingly, I long to be able to communicate stories in a language I cannot speak. Some way to directly connect to people’s hearts through words, photos, or for that matter, media of any kind—bypassing language and cultural barriers, and offering something deeper than petty emotion².

As you can probably tell, my hole isn’t very deep yet. I have some more digging to do. You should probably go too.