The problem with the iPad

I’ve had the iPad, courtesy of Faye, since the day Apple released it. And I love it. I think we all understand its value by now. I think we all see tablets as the next wave. I think we can all picture the device as the new norm.

The iPad is a great consumption device. One can gobble up and digest a lot of information in a short amount of time. I glance at, flip through and jump from one snippet of data to another. I go through news, technology, entertainment, travel, videos, emails, politics, world events, articles, ebooks, music, movies and so on and then back again. If I run out of things to look at and consume, there’s always StumbleUpon, a service that sends you to interesting corners of the web.

I bring my iPad everywhere. I use it after eating Sunday breakfast, like one would peruse a Sunday newspaper years ago. I bring it to the toilet, like I would a magazine years ago. I use Kindle before I go to sleep, like I did with a book when I was younger. I would browse while watching TV, like I used to do with my laptop back when laptops meant mobility (now they’re just too bulky and too slow).

The iPad follows me around like a stubborn dog. It begs to be touched. It yearns for an interaction. It demands attention. Push notifications disrupt whatever else you are doing. Those app badges with ever increasing numbers mess with your mind.

The fact is the iPad, or any tablet for that matter, is a wonderful consumption device. And there lies the problem. It is not a great creative device. There’s so much to consume that there’s little time or energy left to create. Granted there are cool apps that help with the creative process – from sketching to writing to scribbling to typing. But it takes practice to be able to do things well. In the meantime, it’s a lot more convenient to be passive and just read through, flip through or write short status updates or quick tweets.

Last Father’s Day, Rakesh and Kareena gave me an Apple wireless keyboard to go along with my iPad. I figured that was exactly what I needed to turn this around, to balance out consuming with creating, to not just suck data in but to spill some out, to not just absorb but to also squeeze some juice out.

Even with a keyboard though, it’s hard to find the time and the space to do something with it. It’s like you have a pen and a paper but the two just won’t meet.

Tonight is a little different however. Faye and I are at a beautiful inn somewhere in the hill country of Texas. I’m on a rocking chair on a porch drinking peach iced tea and eating just-baked cookies. I stare at the horizon and it’s almost pitch black (except for several cell phone towers blinking red light in the distance). There’s a slight breeze from the north accented by the porch ceiling fan just above me. The mood and the moment are just right. It’s quiet, very quiet, except for the hum of the A/C unit to my right but it’s alright because I can tune that one out.

So I took out my wireless keyboard, set the iPad to the side, opened this app called Basho and typed. Like pen to paper, bluetooth married the two gadgets. I began typing away and words formed on the iPad almost reminiscent of a scene from Harry Potter. And then the tablet transformed into something more than giver of information. It became a recorder of thoughts. It has morphed into a more personal machine, almost like another limb.

I’m not writing a masterpiece, not writing a bestseller, not even sure I’m writing something readable. But heck, I’m writing. In today’s hectic world, this is like therapy.

We are on rocking chairs, sipping watered-down peach iced tea, eating cookie crumbs on a porch at the Inn above Onion Creek, enjoying the confluence of nature and technology, consuming and creating, breathing in and breathing out.

I’m staring at darkness and it’s amazing how darkness opens up the mind. This is just the first night. We have two more left.