Pinterest, You Lied To Me
I was apartment hunting on a tight budget in Los Angeles when I realized that Pinterest has ruined my life. Now, that may sound dramatic and maybe even a little bit absurd, but I really do believe it has ruined my perspective on reality. See, I’ve been pinning almost every day for a year. Let me repeat myself, I’ve been pinning imaginary dreams of things I will probably never do or have every day for a YEAR. Pinning cute outfits, fancy haircuts, dream destinations, pictures of puppies, shots of well dressed men, and interiors that are to die for! I’ve been pinning it all. I know that sounds just as psychotic as the twelve year-old me cutting out pictures of Freddie Prinze Jr. from Teen People and making a giant collage of him, swearing he will one day my husband. It never happened and my Pinterest board of DIYs probably never will either.
But back to the moment of the realization: my apartment hunt. See, Pinterest created this imaginary world for me where studio apartments are magical with white washed floor boards, open layouts, French doors, and subway tile bathrooms. When it reality, a studio apartment in Los Angeles on a budget of less than 1k/month is more like the sample plate at a Mexican restaurant—it’s never what you expected it to be. Apartment after apartment I wondered “Where are the pretty details?”, “This kitchen nook isn’t large enough to host brunch!” and “How am I supposed to make blueberry pancakes on a hot plate?” It became clear that my internet dreams had jaded me from reality. There would be no brunch, no walk-in closets and I would probably have to sleep next to my refrigerator. It was all a dream.
And despite the fact that I felt let down by this social networking site that builds up dreams and goals, I still defend Pinterest. When trying to explain the concept of the website to my boyfriend (and probably very poorly so) he just replied with “so it’s just like an imaginary bulletin board? That sounds pretty dumb.” But I defended Pinterest, despite the way it let me down like every tofu hot dog I’ve ever had (who eats that stuff? It’s like they’re not even trying to make it taste like a hot dog).
I defended it because just like those freaks that play the Sims games for four hours a day, I like having an alternate universe where I will one day dress like Miroslava Duma, can do nail art all on my own, can bake an ombré layered cake and my apartment looks like something out of a Danish furniture catalog. It’s a version of me that I will probably never be able to afford or gain the skills in the kitchen or craft room to achieve, but darn it, she deserves defending!
So, keeping the “Pinterest me” intact, I had to come to the sad Liz Lemon realization that I can’t have it all. I can’t have a fancy apartment on a post-graduation Journalism major salary and afford to eat. I can’t ever be as crafty as I hope I will be. And I just can’t do nail art. I can’t. For now, my life as a normal with a small shoebox apartment will have to suffice, realizing that all the other girls who Pin such prettiness probably are surviving the same blerg experience as I.