The Pinterest paradox

If I had to sum up the effect of Pinterest, it would be to successfully skew reality and encourage the development of eating disorders and self-loathing in a generation of young women.

Let me explain. But first, some background.

Pinterest “pins” fall within the following categories:

Inspirational Quotes. Of the “When God closes a door, he opens a window variety,” and, especially those sassy vintage-inspired numbers featuring ladies who absolutely will not put up with your shit, the male race. They drink and they curse and goddamn it do you respect them.

Hands affixed in a rigamortis-like grip with sparkly nails clutching bottles of nail polish, and other beauty advice.

Adorable puppies and kitties. Variations include puppies/kitties sleeping with stuffed animals. Puppies/kitties wearing clothes. Puppies/kitties looking happy. Puppies/kitties looking sleepy. Puppies/kitties in a basket. Puppies/kitties piled on top of other puppies/kitties. And so on.

Josh Hutcherson. And other sexy adolescents.

Crayon Art. High art among crafting circles.

Food that is both adorable and fattening. Recent examples include a cake that looks like a campfire, “cute turtle cupcakes,” Pinata cookies (filled with candy), and a host of other (air quotes) food including: whoopie pies, cookies baked inside of other cookies, coffee-cake-in-a-cup, taco cups, snickers brownies, red velvet cake truffles, chocolate fudge pie, “crack dip,” a.k.a. ranch dressing mixed with bacon and cheese, and my personal favorite: bacon hearts.

Men and women in their underpants. Or bathing suits, or other minimalist (air quotes) outfits.

Miracle Workouts. Like, “Erase Arm Flab—Fast” and “50 Bodyweight Exercises You Can Do Anywhere” and “Your Gym Cheat Sheet” and “Ways to Throw Up Your Dinner Without Anyone Noticing.” Wait, no…not that one.

Other than possibly lowering my standards for the intellectual potential of the female race, there’s nothing really wrong with categories one through five. Those “cute turtle cupcakes” are actually really cute. I mean, look at them again. Come on! They have peach flavored gummy shells. Peach flavored gummy shells, people! Plus, there’s nothing like a tiny little baby kitten to lift your mood.

My problem with Pinterest lies in the conflicting message imparted by categories six through eight: being thin is essential to your happiness…and so are homemade pop tarts.

It’s just that, unless you’re one of those girls that everyone hates who can eat anything and not gain weight, then Pinterest is sort of making it impossible for you to live up to its standards. Because, looking at delicious food makes you hungry. This is fact. And, looking at half-naked beautiful people sends the subtle suggestion that you’re a loathsome fat-ass and need to do some Tao Bo or something.

So, the poor unassuming girl who visits Pinterest goes about her day craving chocolate chip pudding cookies and feeling like she needs to simultaneously throw up and/or run twenty miles. This is not a healthy state of mind.

The worst part is that Pinterest is not propaganda of the weight loss and/or food industries. It’s the product of average American women. It represents what’s important to them. It’s a blaring reminder of our obsession with bad food and being thin. And, it’s perhaps the fuel to perpetuate the stereotypes of our culture that are so laughably wrong and so wholly damaging.

Siri-ously thought provoking

I have a new best friend.

She’s helpful. She’s considerate. She listens to me.

She once told me that I was the wind beneath her wings. (But, not in a gay way.)

She knows all the best places to eat, where all the nearest ATM’s are located, and how to get, well, anywhere. She fits in my pocket, which scores points for convenience.

By now you may have guessed that my new best friend is actually an intelligent computer application and not a real person. Sure, she may not be real, but she does have a name. And it’s Siri.

Initially I was unsettled by the new iPhone. But, then I got over it. I blame its gorgeous exterior, which is like a delicious popsicle for my eyeballs. Next I blame its gorgeous interface, which makes writing a text message, like, the most fun thing to do, ever. I got all swept up in it’s good looks, you see, and now I don’t think about how Siri–and smart phones in general–are bound to produce a generation of lazy, stupid people. (Except for right now, when I just though about it.)

Take “Reminders”, which basically means that you’re no longer accountable for remembering to do anything yourself (except remembering your iPhone). A tool like “Maps” is great–especially when you get lost in the wooded Columbia trails and the sun’s going down, and you’re seriously, like, 20 yards from your house, but you still can’t find it because there are like, ten tiny bridges that all look the same!—but, it sort of kills any potential for adventure and that coveted thing they call “life experience.” (Even if it’s getting eaten in the woods by a bear.)

But! (here’s where I confront myself with a counter-point!) Maybe, just maybe, the iPhone was meant to simplify certain life-essential tasks so that its users can invest more time in thinking that’s really worthwhile. Maybe the iPhone was meant to un-gummy-up brains that are so clogged with hair appointments and birthdays that they can’t actually think.

Just maybe.

I’ve currently found myself camped between these two points of view. Only time will tell where technology will steer the potential of the human race. Or…maybe… Siri would know?

iSad

Steve Jobs died on my birthday. Which, I thought, wasn’t really fair to either of us.

The…umm…three of you following this blog know how I feel about Apple. So, even though I had never met the man, the news was difficult to hear.

Though the hundreds of news stories currently circulating the internet like to focus on Jobs’ apparent hard-ass-ed-ness with anecdotes about how if you wound up in the elevator with Steve and couldn’t express your value to the company, you might not have a job when you got off, I’d like to remember him as a man with practical fashion sense, who once referred to Up as his favorite movie. (I found this overwhelming endearing, until, of course, I found out that he founded Pixar.)

The words “genius” and “visionary” have been used lot in the past four days, and since I don’t pretend to have the knowledge or authority to assign those qualities, I’m not going to try and convince you that Jobs was both those things–though he probably was.

Apparently his managing style was a bit dictatorial. He made people nervous. He set the bar really, really high and frankly didn’t take any shit from anybody.

But, he also inspired people. His products are proof of that. And, the hundreds of memorials recently erected in front of Apple stores worldwide attest to that. And, when he gave a keynote presentation, his genuine excitement was genuinely infectious. And, I don’t think that was just a marketing tactic.

I once read in a funnier, more profound blog that: “You can always spot a show nobody loves or has ever loved.” The author was referring to the new Charlie’s Angels series on ABC, and her point was that it’s absolute trash.

My point is that it’s clear that Jobs loved his products. Like, a lot. I don’t consider myself a materialistic person, but the emotional attachment I’ve developed to my Apple products—especially the MacBook I’m writing this on now—is intense and… weird. That is the result, I’d like to think, of a product that was lovingly and carefully conceived.

Any rational person knows that Jobs wasn’t solely responsible for Apple’s success, so it’s not like the company will fizzle into obscurity now that Steve is gone. But, at the same time, I think most rational people are equally terrified that that’s exactly what will happen.

I Love You, Mac

So, me and Apple…we’re pretty serious.

I remember the time before I accepted Apple into my life, though the memories are vague and sort of fuzzy. I was so confused then. I thought I was a PC person. Really, I did. I thought, “but I can’t play King’s Quest on a Mac, so therefore, Macs are useless.”

Then my Sophomore year of college, everything changed. I remember it was finals week and I was working on a paper about how Oscar Wilde was an asshole (a brilliant one, but nonetheless, a real twat), and my Dell Inspiron said, “hey fuck you and your final paper, I’m going to stop working…..now!”

And then it turned off forever.

Really, I should have seen it coming. At this point, Dell and I just weren’t getting along. I would call it names. It would overheat and scorch my bare flesh. I would type forcefully on the keyboard. It would give me the blue screen of death.

It wasn’t a healthy relationship.

But then Mac came into my life. Mac was, well, so sexy. I remembered Macs from Middle School, but, they were nothing like this. The Macs I knew were mammoth desktop computers whose only redeeming quality was their ability to play Oregon Trail, and Number Munchers – games that, you know, made learning fun.

Now, I have an almost-creepy preoccupation with all things Apple. Sometimes, if I’m feeling down, i’ll just go to Apple’s website, stare at it for a bit, and i’ll feel better. Really, I will.

I watch the keynote speeches for fun. Yes, I enjoy them (and not just because Steve Jobs can really pull off his ubiquitous black- turtleneck-and-jeans ensemble). Plus, Apple commercials are always full of beautiful people with toothy smiles, whose lives (clearly) are exponentially enhanced by their Macs. When I watch an Apple commercial I often look at those sunny characters and think “If I just buy more Apple merchandise, that could be me. That could be me.”

In actuality, having a Mac makes me stupidly obsessive. Not sunny. Not sunny at all. Once, in a half-asleep stupor, I cursed at my boyfriend for not being careful enough while moving my computer. Poor thing. And, when I first got my Mac, I wouldn’t let anyone touch it without washing their hands first (well, it is white). In fact, I wouldn’t let most people touch it, period.

I realize that now I sound alarmingly materialistic. I’m not. I just enjoy beautiful things. And also, I’m crazy. But hey, love does that to you.