Field notes for the new iPad, March 16th, 2012

Man, this thing is heavy. Noticeably more so than the previous one. I hold the device in one hand, trying to gauge how long until my blogger forearms will start burning. Maybe a minute, maybe two?

My god, look at the screen. This thing is stunning. I’ve been awake since 6:30am, not because I’m excited, no. I woke early, before the sun, with a sense of dread. I knew today was not going to be my best day.

It’s thicker, too. Not so much, but enough to make me weary. Is this really progress? I leap out of bed and check UPS. Hasn’t changed since 3pm yesterday. Still stacked somewhere in Concord with 10,000 other identical boxes. I’ve been following the lines across the world, wondering if I’d have had more fun culting myself like the rest of ’em. It was fun for the iPhone 4S, but that was different. This is a freaking iPad. I keep telling myself I’m excited.

The photos look great. Like from a real camera. But I look like an idiot holding it up in the air. There is no surreptitious way to do photography with an iPad. What were they thinking? I watch videos: New York, Toronto, Edmonton, Miami. Apple employees buzzing like flies around a half-eaten carcass. All too graphic a picture before I’ve had my coffee.

These speeds are ridiculous. 15Mbps over LTE. $35/month is a small price to pay for being connected anywhere and everywhere, right? My Galaxy Nexus throbs a sobering white, reminding me of my duties. I have emails to answer, blog posts to write. I am still on the clock. Getting out of bed is hard. Every truck is a potential door bell. Every tire screech a distraction. It’s just an iPad. It’s just the old iPad with a better screen. I need something to eat.

These lines are gorgeous. The build quality exceptional. When I hold it, I can understand what Jobs was talking about, a blank slate, tabula rasa. It’s so smooth. I wish Android was like this. It’s noon. No sign of the truck. UPS says the damn box is still in Concord. Forget this. I’m just going to go on with my day. It’s an iPad, not a new puppy. How can one derive true pleasure, true fulfillment, from an amalgam of chips, wires and carbon?

Text is beyond sharp. It’s not quite like reading a piece of paper; it’s the equivalent of backlit freedom. This screen can do anything, be anything. But it’s not a PC, that’s for sure. It can’t be — I can’t drag and drop a photo into WordPress, or download an MP3 and play it in any app I choose. These notions are antiquated. In order to fulfill the post-PC requirement, I must adhere to this ecosystem and its limitations. I must acquiesce. I am getting a bit antsy. Everyone is getting theirs, and mine is still sitting in a litter box warehouse somewhere in southwestern Ontario. I am appalled. There is no consoling me; Friday or bust. I sulk. I eat a sandwich.

This is seriously going to change everything. Wait, isn’t that what Apple says in its marketing? It’s all so ingrained in us now. But the hardware is finally no longer a bottleneck; no more concern over speed, over pixel density. This iPad is a fresh name because it is finally the one they intended to make from the beginning. It just took them three years to get here. That’s why it may seem too evolutionary for some, too same-same. Because they improved only what needed to be improved. It’s all about the software now. It’s all about iCloud and iOS. That is where the frontier lies, not with the physical bit but the virtual bits. It’s so simple. The doorbell rings. My heart races. I am disheveled, cautious, frantic. What happens if this is it? The build-up is the best part. In that waiting room, with half the world, we are expectant fathers, we are blessed with infinite potential. But once the box opens it’s just a thing, another piece of hardware to play with, critique and eventually replace.

Well, shoot. It’s a beautiful day outside: the sky is blue, birds are chirping away, and I’m in a good mood. The iPad can wait. I know what it is now.