I owe a lot to Steve Jobs. One evening my parents came home with a mysterious white box: our first Mac. My dad told my sister and I to “set it up”, and watched with a smile as we excitedly unboxed it and figured out where the few cables went. Then came the inviting startup chime—and with it, an explosion in my creativity. On that humble little Mac I drew pictures, made simple animations, hacked the OS to change system icons, went on the Internet for the first time, and made my own computer games. Now anything was possible. If I could dream it, my Mac could help me do it. That became my subconscious mantra over the years, as I modeled and rendered my own worlds, built web sites, and eventually edited my first video. That short 3d animation I cut in iMovie (1.0!) started me down a new path of codecs, file formats, and cinema. A path that has brought me here, an assistant editor at Disney Animation. Steve Jobs changed the world. And in a direct way, he changed my life: both through the technology he created which ignited my creativity, and through Pixar, whose leadership brought Disney Animation back from the brink, and with it a job for me on Tangled. I wouldn’t be sitting in this office were it not for him. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with Apple. I tore their ads out of magazines and hung them next to the “Think Different” posters in my bedroom. I counted down the days to every keynote address and watched them live. I went to Macworld Expo, and even got a black mock turtleneck as a Christmas gift. I know, this is all a little crazy. But it’s because I became one of the Crazy Ones, the misfits and troublemakers that Apple immortalized in their “Think Different” ad (which I memorized). That ad is a self-portrait of Steve Jobs. It’s also true. My younger self loved Apple and Steve for their innovation and life-changing products. And while those things remain, over the last few years I’ve come to realize how rare people like Jobs are. He is atop an elite group of personal heroes, people like Ed Catmull, John Lasseter, and Walt Disney. People who see potential in everything, and have the drive and insanity to go after it. They are visionaries, and we need them—not because of what they produce for us, but because of what they produce in us. They inspire us to push harder, to have hope in the future, to see. They inspire us to think different. The world is a bit smaller for Steve’s passing. This day came much too soon, and I’m praying for his family. And yet, in the midst of my sadness I’m also thankful and inspired. Inspired to push forward and be a crazy one, to not stop until it’s insanely great. This isn’t the end, but only the beginning, because there’s still One More Thing. Steve’s final announcement isn’t a phone that will change how we live, or a Mac that will enable us to be more creative. It’s the news that we too can change the world. Here’s to the crazy one.
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I owe a lot to Steve Jobs.

One evening my parents came home with a mysterious white box: our first Mac. My dad told my sister and I to “set it up”, and watched with a smile as we excitedly unboxed it and figured out where the few cables went. Then came the inviting startup chime—and with it, an explosion in my creativity. On that humble little Mac I drew pictures, made simple animations, hacked the OS to change system icons, went on the Internet for the first time, and made my own computer games. Now anything was possible. If I could dream it, my Mac could help me do it.

That became my subconscious mantra over the years, as I modeled and rendered my own worlds, built web sites, and eventually edited my first video. That short 3d animation I cut in iMovie (1.0!) started me down a new path of codecs, file formats, and cinema. A path that has brought me here, an assistant editor at Disney Animation.

Steve Jobs changed the world. And in a direct way, he changed my life: both through the technology he created which ignited my creativity, and through Pixar, whose leadership brought Disney Animation back from the brink, and with it a job for me on Tangled. I wouldn’t be sitting in this office were it not for him.

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with Apple. I tore their ads out of magazines and hung them next to the “Think Different” posters in my bedroom. I counted down the days to every keynote address and watched them live. I went to Macworld Expo, and even got a black mock turtleneck as a Christmas gift. I know, this is all a little crazy. But it’s because I became one of the Crazy Ones, the misfits and troublemakers that Apple immortalized in their “Think Different” ad (which I memorized).

That ad is a self-portrait of Steve Jobs. It’s also true.

My younger self loved Apple and Steve for their innovation and life-changing products. And while those things remain, over the last few years I’ve come to realize how rare people like Jobs are. He is atop an elite group of personal heroes, people like Ed Catmull, John Lasseter, and Walt Disney. People who see potential in everything, and have the drive and insanity to go after it. They are visionaries, and we need them—not because of what they produce for us, but because of what they produce in us. They inspire us to push harder, to have hope in the future, to see.

They inspire us to think different.

The world is a bit smaller for Steve’s passing. This day came much too soon, and I’m praying for his family. And yet, in the midst of my sadness I’m also thankful and inspired. Inspired to push forward and be a crazy one, to not stop until it’s insanely great. This isn’t the end, but only the beginning, because there’s still One More Thing. Steve’s final announcement isn’t a phone that will change how we live, or a Mac that will enable us to be more creative. It’s the news that we too can change the world.

Here’s to the crazy one.

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