Last week, the team at The Sweet Setup launched its first full-fledged e-book. “Day One In Depth” is a 45,000 word e-book outlining every feature, setting, preference, and option found in Day One on OS X and iOS.
Although my name shows up on the author list, I can’t take credit for too much of the work. Shawn, Stephen, Bradley, Chris, and Jeff all worked their tails off to bring this book together. I snapped some photos here and there to add some visual presentation to the book, but I can’t see the photos measuring up to the research these guys put in.
“Day One In Depth” is currently ranked #4 in Apple’s iBooks reference category and can be yours for $8 for the rest of the launch week.
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I don’t think “iPad Pro” is the right name for Apple’s latest device.
It was immediately obvious this device has little in common with previous iPads. The only major common ground is iOS 9 itself.
Take, for instance, the iPad Pro’s weight. It’s only 1.57 pounds, essentially equal to the first generation iPad. But with a larger surface area, that 1.57 pounds is mostly housed in the part not resting in your hands. And it’s far less comfortable to hold for long periods of time.
Or take the size of the iPad Pro. It’s large, yes. But it’s too large to use while holding the device with one hand, and it’s uncomfortable to use for long periods of time while laying on your lap.
Both size and weight are paramount to what we have come to know as “using an iPad”. And if we measure with that stick, well, the iPad Pro isn’t an iPad.
This fact is driven home the moment you put a keyboard in front of the iPad Pro or the moment you pull out Apple’s new Pencil. iOS 9’s keyboard support lags behind right now, with short delays in Spotlight Search or with mis-typed words when quickly switching between apps. Even with all the bugs, it’s still a joy to use. And although I haven’t been able to try the Apple Pencil, I know why the Pencil was created — this screen begs to be used like a large notepad or sketchbook. Be it a keyboard or the Pencil, you can’t say these same things about prior iPads.
Then there’s iOS 9’s split-screen multitasking. I’ve fallen in love with it on the large 27” iMac screen, but it was designed for the iPad Pro. Split-screen multitasking comes to life on the iPad Pro, to the point that it looks awkward if only one app is open.
And finally, perhaps the most important difference between what we know as an iPad and what the iPad Pro signifies is Horace Dediu’s “two-handed interaction model.” Unlike OS X, two split-screen iOS apps can be interacted with at the same time. Instead of a single, one-off mouse click, you can tap, hold, and drag with multiple fingers all at once in iOS. We’ve had this for some time on iOS devices, but the added screen space on the iPad Pro brings this to light in entirely new ways.
So, is “iPad Pro” the right moniker? Not likely. This device isn’t an iPad. I’ve never used an iPad like I use this device. I’ve never enjoyed resting an iPad flat on the table to type out a long iMessage, yet I’ve done it multiple times with the iPad Pro in the last 24 hours. I’ve always enjoyed strolling around the house while reading the news on my iPad, but I can hardly hold the iPad Pro with one hand for more than a minute, let alone not feel like a clown with a gigantic slab of glass and aluminum resting in my forearm. And, most importantly, I’ve always shied away from using my iPad like a laptop computer. Yet, here I am, using my iPad Pro to write for the first time in a very long time.
The iPad Pro isn’t an iPad. It’s something different. Something new. And to my mind, something so much better.
Lining the outer edge of a 1,001 acre natural park in the heart of Canada’s most serene city is a majestic 8.8 kilometre walkway and cycle path. From the cycle path, the monolithic Pacific extends just inches from your grasp while an abundance of natural wildlife roams inside the lush forest behind you. The Stanley Park walkway is reason alone to visit Vancouver and its cosmopolitan aura.
Editor’s note: These photos were first published in Vancouver 2015: Part 2. I’ve since returned to the photos to edit them differently, to break them apart into smaller packets, and to write about them from a different perspective.
Although I’m not used to big city living, I can understand the importance of nature amid streets of a concrete jungle. Endless, emotionless pavement takes its toll, while thick grass and salty sea air can provide some relief from the daily grind.
In the name of efficiency, we would have concrete, glass, and stone. But in the name of life, we would have the smell of smoked fish drifting away from a cedar log cabin. It seems fair to mix the two to some extent.
Baby fawns, chubby squirrels, mystical swans and blue herons. Sea creatures of all sorts. Soaring, Western Red Cedars provide shelter over head.
And motor cars.
It’s a series of symbiotic relationships, effectively living peacefully amidst the hustle of international shipyards and an evolving digital arena.
Yet, Stanley Park is more.
It’s a playground for the adventurous and a painting for the rich. Marine Drive lays across the sound, lined with castles fit for medieval kings. It was easy to hang our arms over the handrails at Brockton Point, gleeming across at our future, post-lottery home. And the yachts floating in the midst seemed to make the tease that much worse.
But Vancouver wouldn’t be Vancouver without the rich, without the sea, without the ships, and without the magnificence of Stanley Park. If anything, it felt as though Stanley Park was Vancouver, and Vancouver was Stanley Park.
They are mutually inclusive, inclusive of all forms and beings, blessed with mutual benefit.
They are the definition of a perfect relationship.
