One of my friends candidly asked me last night what the “point” of learning to build software was when there appears to be someone who has either built the solution or is actively working on it in a capacity that dwarfs their on.
In his own words:
Wishing I knew how – I have some the books and I know where to go, but the looming question that holds me back is: What’s the point of learning it, what should I make with it, is there purpose, ‘cause currently, even though an inventor of technological items several years before they showed up made by others, I don’t seem to know what I should be solving and there are so many repeat apps out there that just leave me unmotivated about the whole idea.
I guess if I had a mentor to show me the way and I had a problem at that particular time and there was some sort of hurdle to jump that forced me into learning the code, then I think I would.
But why jump the hurdle when you can just walk barefoot in the grass beside the tracks…
It’s a valid question but it’s one that was incredibly easy to answer:
The point must be more than just utility… It must be derived of something greater, more personal. I learned because I wanted to build, even if I was only recreating existing things.
I wanted to create, I wanted to exist.
I believe that the desire to learn to create software, or any art for that matter, is a deeply personal matter. You, for whatever reason, want to see something come alive and through that process of creation you, the creator, feel the effects of that birth powerfully and intimately.
Through the creation one is reminded that they were created, that one does exist, that there is order among the mounting chaos. It’s all so metaphysical, emotional and so difficult to describe. But the “magic” of it is never lost on me as it’s an aphrodisiac and if you’re not careful you may find a pleasant addiction.
I learned to write software because I was on a quest to know who I was and where I fit in the world. That journey is not even close to being completed.