Community, Identity, Stability
In our gradual progression as students, one thing has always remained constant: we have always been required to answer questions. Some were manageable, others not so much. Some we expected, others came at us from out of the blue. Some caused us angst and woe, others swelled us up with pride. But over the years, the types of answers that were required of us began to transform.
In our early days, any answer would do. Anything that would convince our parents that our auditory senses were functioning. As we moved along, the questions that were asked became a little more advanced. What is your address? 214/6=? Who was the sixteenth president of our nation? The answers we presented were either correct or incorrect. Checked off or crossed off by that infamous red pen. Somewhere along the way, a different suit of answers became expected. Ones that were "more" right than others. Ones that were the "best" answer of a given choice. Other choices weren't completely wrong answers, they just weren't the "best." It was at this point that we cursed the questions that came curve balling at us. Things just couldn't get any worse. Or so we thought.
Today I find myself dealing with new types of answers. They aren't answers to fundamental questions about economics or mathematics. They aren't answers to questions about other people's accomplishments. They are answers to questions I ask of myself -- How I want to live, with whom I want to interact, why I choose to say what I say or do what I do. While we can all ask ourselves these exact same questions, each of us will have a different answer. And no matter how similar the sentiment, two answers simply cannot be exact replicas.
It's when we get so attached to these unique answers that we feel the need to defend our positions and impose our answers unto others. But unlike most other things, the more we try, the more we fail. It's like a game of dodgeball. We collect as many answers as we possibly can then start pelting them at other people, wanting them to experience whatever we are experiencing. But they just dodge our answers while clinging on to their own.
I'm slowly coming to terms with the frustration that comes with this vicious cycle. At some point, you realize that it's a waste of time trying to force someone to change the way they live when they don't see the need. Where there's no demand, there's no sale.
Last Tuesday, I went to a panel discussion exploring the opportunities for profit in mobile applications. The word "niche" came up so frequently I almost wanted to ask my neighbor if I had accidentally walked into a high-school Biology class. Representatives from various platforms including the Blackberry, Pre, and iPhone agreed on one thing: successful applications rely on on just one thing -- a niche. Cater to just one type of lifestyle, one hobby, one type of personality, one need. It's impossible to create something that will please everyone or that everyone will find useful. Our "answers" are just simply too different.
Products are not just randomly designed to force upon users. A community is identified. Some luxury is found to be lacking. Some improvement is desired. Some specific need. By this token, one product is not meant for everyone.
So maybe we can't bond over the fact that we're all using X or all doing Y, but together we can revel in the wonders that are our custom-made lives.
In our early days, any answer would do. Anything that would convince our parents that our auditory senses were functioning. As we moved along, the questions that were asked became a little more advanced. What is your address? 214/6=? Who was the sixteenth president of our nation? The answers we presented were either correct or incorrect. Checked off or crossed off by that infamous red pen. Somewhere along the way, a different suit of answers became expected. Ones that were "more" right than others. Ones that were the "best" answer of a given choice. Other choices weren't completely wrong answers, they just weren't the "best." It was at this point that we cursed the questions that came curve balling at us. Things just couldn't get any worse. Or so we thought.
Today I find myself dealing with new types of answers. They aren't answers to fundamental questions about economics or mathematics. They aren't answers to questions about other people's accomplishments. They are answers to questions I ask of myself -- How I want to live, with whom I want to interact, why I choose to say what I say or do what I do. While we can all ask ourselves these exact same questions, each of us will have a different answer. And no matter how similar the sentiment, two answers simply cannot be exact replicas.
It's when we get so attached to these unique answers that we feel the need to defend our positions and impose our answers unto others. But unlike most other things, the more we try, the more we fail. It's like a game of dodgeball. We collect as many answers as we possibly can then start pelting them at other people, wanting them to experience whatever we are experiencing. But they just dodge our answers while clinging on to their own.
I'm slowly coming to terms with the frustration that comes with this vicious cycle. At some point, you realize that it's a waste of time trying to force someone to change the way they live when they don't see the need. Where there's no demand, there's no sale.
Last Tuesday, I went to a panel discussion exploring the opportunities for profit in mobile applications. The word "niche" came up so frequently I almost wanted to ask my neighbor if I had accidentally walked into a high-school Biology class. Representatives from various platforms including the Blackberry, Pre, and iPhone agreed on one thing: successful applications rely on on just one thing -- a niche. Cater to just one type of lifestyle, one hobby, one type of personality, one need. It's impossible to create something that will please everyone or that everyone will find useful. Our "answers" are just simply too different.
Products are not just randomly designed to force upon users. A community is identified. Some luxury is found to be lacking. Some improvement is desired. Some specific need. By this token, one product is not meant for everyone.
So maybe we can't bond over the fact that we're all using X or all doing Y, but together we can revel in the wonders that are our custom-made lives.
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