The iPad Manual

Standing in the midst of the technological tsunami that swallows entire networks of people with it's hypnotic digital clicks, I calculate precisely how I'm going to make my gadgets and devices work for me; (all of which are necessary for my valiant stand against the forces vying for control of the minds of the masses. Keenly aware that I too am a victim, I accept that the potential is only limited by the ability to think the thought, and the vast avenues of exploration overwhelm even the most ambitious thinkers.)

Productivity, greener living, entertaining, multidimensional existence (or is it?), reading, convenience, cool factor, cutting edge in a pop music kind of way, recipes in the kitchen, Apple,  - but mostly the books - paperless books,  I have my entire library with me at all times.  I can read whatever I'm in the mood for and I can buy books anywhere there is wi-fi.  All these confirm the iPad's necessity in my life, not a luxury, a must.

Will I miss the paper? Hell yes. I love paper.  I love to fold the edges, write in the margins.  I break the binding on paperbacks on purpose to help the paper flow as I scroll through it with my thumb.  I keep paper in my desk, on my counter, in my bookbag, the console of my car, my nightstand, and my purse.  I love graph paper the most, index cards too.  I rewrite notes and lists to myself because there is a pretty piece of yellow paper that needs to be written on.  I make lists of what lists I've made.  I write in cursive and print, all caps and cursive print mix, just because playing with how letters look is fun.  Now I keep all my lists on the Notes app in a comic sans style font (yellow lined digital paper with a running index of all my lists and notes, timed and dated.)  I will miss my paper, but my iPad makes me a little greener.

Then of course, the yoga podcasts and guided meditations, the photo slide shows, the music library, the newspapers and magazines, the calendar and the games for my babies - all this in one little flat, skinny, shiny, fingerprint smudged device.

When I got my ipad there was one screen, and it was blank.  Without much effort I filled seven screens with more than twenty apps on each screen.  I have Nook, Kindle, and iBooks, Craigslist, Ebay, Priceline, and Amazon, Ted, NASA, the City Paper, NPR, BBC, and The New Yorker.  I added Fandango, Flixster, Netflix, and Pandora, Marvel comics for Jake, Calvin & Hobbes for Abbey, FingerPpaint and Etch a Sketch for me.  I have WebMD so I never need a real doctor again, and yoga so I can make myself well.

Glimpses of who keeps company with me in possession of the tools for technological enlightment terrifies me at the least.  The first group is the people with money that buy it because they can, but have no idea what they will use it for or how.  The next group are the technologically wealthy who have it because they can, know how to use it and flaunt it.  Then of course are the people who get it because it's the newest, coolest thing, and they save or borrow for this one next cool new thing.  And then there's me.  I can't afford it, don't really need it, know exactly how to use it, and indulge because, well, I convinced John that he should buy it for me and he did because I always get what I want.

John's accountant Bob and his wife Janna purchased their iPads.  They fall into the group of buying it because they have enough money.  They will play solitaire on it while sitting in recliners in their living room.  Which is fine, you can do that with the iPad.  Bob called.  He needed John to come fix his printer because he wanted to print the iPad manual.