All or nothing. Or maybe just a little. At least?
The Kickstarter for Presst launches in one week.
It has been a lot of chaotic ideas all converging into one bold attempt. That is what the past few years have been. Ever since the day the first spark of such a general idea hit my brain, it has snowballed into a mess of numbers and shapes, interfaces and codes, models and designs, until finally the idea is stepping up to the mound.
As per the good advice of a friend of mine; one who I hope will one day become a part of the Presst team — I didn’t want to put Presst onto a crowdfunding platform. It’s certainly not to say that I do not trust said platform, but there is a certain stigma that does go along with putting your treasured idea and product in the hands of potentially, well, anyone. Everyone. However, there came a point recently when I realized that I was sitting on an all or nothing moment. I do not by any means have the funding it would take to build the alpha version of Presst. It’s just not there. And I do not know anyone with funds or connections to do the same. And I do not code.
Repeat: I do not code. Let the sea of fervent eye-rolls ensue, all caught on the security cams of the tech world collectively.
And so it comes to this. Another slow-moving Monday for all to endure will be, for me, anything but. It is my D-Day. And while that may be contextually all a bit dramatic, it certainly feels that way to me.
Shit or get off the pot, son.
My dad died in 2014. It caught us all off guard, really — who ever expects to have to deal with something like that so suddenly. He had been sick with cancer twice, but was in remission. Nobody was prepared for his body to give out and say no more. But that’s what happened. The years of chemotherapy, surgeries, and rigorous medications had finally taken a toll on him, and he lost his life.
It was the single hardest thing I’ve yet to face in my lifetime.
Something happened, however, not long after he passed. Now, to preface, I’m not religious in any sense of the word. You won’t find me preaching any sort of afterlife banter claiming that he is by my side holding my hand. And yet, I have felt something. Or perhaps not felt something, but instead, I’ve just sort of had an idea in my head. An idea, or a thought that doesn’t quite seem to be my own. And it repeats over and over again, showing up all the time, at random times. It’s like a whisper, in the form of brilliant axon-firing bursts. It’s my own brain, my own thoughts, at my own pace — but it’s my father’s voice, undoubtedly, saying:
Go for it. It’s good. You have nothing to lose. Fight for it. Make it happen.
Again, I miss my father. And I celebrate his life. But I do not imagine longingly that he is now in the form of an angel whispering inspirational quotes into my ear. I do not believe as such.
What I do imagine is that perhaps it is a transcendent expression of the way everything is supposed to happen. I have sat on the idea of Presst for so very long now, taking baby steps to get it moving in what I believe is the right direction. And one day, a few years ago, I remember telling my dad about it. And he sat back, trying to understand Presst in its entirety, trying to understand my level of passion for it. And he said something very simple to me — the only thing he ever said to me regarding Presst.
“Well…I’d use it.”
That’s good enough for me. Swing and a hit.