Last night I capitulated and ordered an iPad2.
Since blogging about whether it might be a good idea to get one a while ago, I have noticed mention of iPads cropping up more and more in my RSS feeds. Of course, this is down to the release of the latest version of the iPad, but I generally find it easy to ignore the engadget hype posts about stuff I’m not all that excited about… for example I really don’t give a toss about the Nintendo 3DS and there’s a fair amount been written about those lately too. More difficult to ignore have been the mentions in the academic blogs I subscribe to (such as the consistently interesting Profhacker) and recommendations from friends (such as @pam_psych).
Other contributing factors have included the construction of a ‘reading nook’ in my office, having to over-ride my HP printer’s helpful out of ink notification (if you’re out of ink, why can I override you and still get perfectly readable printouts?) and noticing my ‘to read’ GMail label pile up to over 20 items once again. The straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing Alex Easton give a very smoothly presented departmental seminar on Friday, all administered using, rather inevitably, an iPad.
Which has led me to quite a conflicted state of being. I dislike Steve Jobs immensely. I despise the arrogance with which he suggests that the iPad is “magical” (I invariably had to stop myself from spitting on the sign that proclaimed this ridiculousness outside the Washington University Bookshop). I even bought an Android phone so I wouldn’t line his pockets. But the allure of a well-designed, perfectly useful product has made me eat my words and give him some of my heard-earned cash.
So, I’m now looking forward to the day in May when I receive my magical and revolutionary product. I’m eagerly awaiting the sense of frustration I’ll feel when I realise that its 1024×768 resolution isn’t quite good enough to read a single page of a pdf article in fullscreen. I can’t wait until the perfectly standard use of Flash on a website I’m viewing fails to load. I’m on tenterhooks to experience the pointed glances that scream “pretentious wanker” at my smug little face. Because from within my £399 walled garden, I will have even more reasons to dislike Mr Jobs.