By Emily Jones
Hi. My name is Emily and I am an addict. My drug of choice is called Pinterest.com which is pure evil … like digital crack. And women are especially vulnerable to its magnetic attraction.
I’ve made 24 attempts at writing this column in the past three days. The pattern is always the same: get out of bed, turn on the computer, log in to Pinterest and lose myself in the site’s pictorial cycle of hope and inspiration followed by envy, desperation, despair and depression. I’m badly in need of an intervention.
Move over Facebook, Pinterest is the new cool kid in town. (I suspected Facebook was doomed when my ex-husband befriended me!) Pinterest is surging in popularity, with about 11 million visitors last month. The tekky world has gone gaga over this most recent wrinkle in social networking.
In case you’ve been living under a rock somewhere in the rain forest of South America, you might not be familiar with Pinterest. It is an utter and complete waste of time, but what a great way to waste it.
Pinterest changed my life back in the spring when I was innocently invited to become a member. Yes, you have to be invited to join which makes you feel very special when you get the green light to become a “pinner.” What that means is that you get to legally steal wonderful ideas and claim them as your own when you “repin” them to your very own bulletin board. Yeah, I didn’t get it either at first.
People who like your pins become your "followers." I now have 200 and picking up more every day. I’m thinking of starting my own country where I will be queen AND prime minister.
I’m three days late getting my weekly column to my editors because I’ve been pinning since Sunday morning when I missed church, forgot lunch and repined until way past dark when my fingers grew numb from “pinning.”
There are 5 million things I need to be doing, and yet, I sit here, clapping in delight, squealing "cool!" and “Yum, I’ve got to make that malted milk ball cake for our tailgate this weekend.” Of course I’ll never make it to the store for the ingredients and end up picking up some barbeque at the Dooey — if I make it to the game at all. I’ll be sitting at my computer salivating over a walk-in closet the size of my entire house. As one observer put it, Pinterest enables me to identify with the Stilton Gold style in place of the Velveeta life I live.”
I begin each day scrolling down the various boards with thousands of pictures depicting everything from best new products to good summer reads. I get wonderful ideas for my home, garden and kitchen which I’ll never get around to actually “doing” because it's so much easier to sit, scroll and drool onto the keyboard. I picked out my fall and winter wardrobe and didn’t even spend a nickel. I’ve learned how to make my own laundry detergent and change the transmission fluid in my truck.
This addiction lends new meaning to the term “pinhead” and I’ve got a bad case of it. Take my advice. If some well-meaning soul invites you to join Pinterest, run the other way.
Emily Jones edits a blog site for bouncing baby boomers facing retirement. She welcomes comments at http://www.deludeddiva.com .