I’m going to state a fact that you may already know: the internet is amazing. No, seriously. Don’t scoff. It’s so ubiquitous now that we can hardly remember a time when we didn’t have Reddit showing us twenty new cute cat pictures daily. And why should we? Do you remember what the world was like some odd fifteen years ago? No? Well, allow me to remind you. You literally had no idea what was going on in the world because the only ways to get news was to read the paper or listen to some old white dude read you the news. Boring. You had roughly twenty thousand CDs and hated half the songs on all of them. If you had a question, you had to actually go searching for the answer in a library since Google was still in its infancy. And most importantly, your life was so hapless and utterly un-curated.
Yes, the true gift of the internet (besides like, rapid expansion of human intelligence and knowledge on a here-to-fore unimaginable scale blah blah blah) is that it can quite literally change your life. You can go and find life hacks that will make your kitchen spotless, your eyeliner on point, and your study habits practically bullet-proof. And that’s great! But, like, can we just press pause on this cultural movement of better-ness? Because honestly, I am just over it.
Before Pinterest, I never really thought about how to make my own multi-purpose shaving cream and conditioner. Now, however, I feel bad that I’ve never even considered it. You know that old German proverb, “If you’ve never concocted your own toiletries, are you even responsible with money?” Am I suddenly a bad person for not knowing how to make gluten-free pretzel Snicker bars? Am I lazy for not taking a few moments to do “5-minute booty blaster”? Who am I, Pinterest? Was I ever anyone?
I am sick of the pressure. It’s hard being a young adult. The last thing I need is the internet telling me how I could be doing it better every second of every day. Slow your roll, Pinterest. Chill the fuck out. You’re basically the online equivalent of a nagging mother-in-law. “Oh, that stain still hasn’t come out. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it if you can’t.”
Life hacks are passive-aggressiveness at its finest. They never really tell you that you’re doing something totally wrong. After all, if you like your pasta-bake and it tastes good, then you haven’t really fucked anything up. But it’s the implication that you should be doing it better, the “correctness,” that stings. Why can’t there be multiple ways to reach the same conclusion? If it’s good enough for math, it’s good enough for life (note: I did not say math class. Because I am still mad that I got docked points on that 4th grade multiplication test for not using lattice method. Who gives a shit about lattice method, Ms. Graver?).
I like my life just fine. Sure, I could probably work out more, but that would cut into my wine time. And yes, those paleo cookies look good but you know what looks even better? My Taco Bell order. No one is about to make me feel guilty about my one true love, the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. Especially not some mommy blogger who spends her entire day pinning homemade fruit and vegetable wash ideas.
I’m embracing my totally un-curated, less-than-perfect life. It’s just more fun this way. I like my messy, gluten-full, too-much-wine ways. I don’t particularly care about being organized. My Pinterest will remain a place where I look up Harry Styles boards but never actually pin anything from them because I know I’m not a 14-year-old girl and that would be weird. But you can’t tell me that it’s wrong, life hacks. I’m an adult, God damn it. Leave me alone..
Nice Move370
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