Written by Patty Decker Tuesday, 11 September 2012 15:48
“I went to Target but couldn’t find anything I wanted, said no one ever.” —Pinterest
Pinterest.com is the stuff dreams are made of. Browsing its pages is a little like combing the aisles of Pier 1, except instead of not shelling out the money for the things I see and love, I don’t shell out the time to complete the projects that I see and love.
The implied simplicity of the majority of the do-it-yourself ideas is as distorted as an image in a side mirror—objects may appear easier and cheaper than they actually are.
The pages of that website are something like Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, filled with magical wonder. My entire dream home is in there and it’s becoming an eclectic monster.
I have completed a grand total of one project from beginning to end—a whitewashed wall hanging made scrap boards, stencils and a paint pen. A bunch of recycled wood and a quote lifted from Einstein: a frugalist’s dream decor. It hangs on the wall above my bookshelf. I have never loved a corner more.
This is what Pinterest is for. The website itself is as addictive as a puff of nicotine, if that’s fair for a non-smoker to say. Sometimes I just need a hit. There is no recovery group, just an extended community of instigators that might as well be chanting “Pin - Pin - Pin” in methodic rhythm.
Thanks to Pinterest, I have grandiose ideas of creating not only homemade tank tops, but also canvas curtains made from a drop cloth, a mosaic bistro table and cupcakes that would secure my spot on Cupcake Wars.
And that bucket list people always talk about? Mine is mutating into a painting and craft projects list. The relation of planned projects vs. completed projects is leaning a little to the former. But I can’t say the search hasn’t opened up my right brain a little wider.
If you also “pin,” “like” or “share,” then we are one of 4 million daily Pinterest-ees. I wonder how many of those people spend 30 minutes or more drooling over those ridiculous peanut-butter mocha cookie bar recipes like someone else I know.
And on the next page is a pretty poster with the quickest way to killer abs. Priorities! (Hint...if you click forward a couple more pages, there will be a loaded cheesy potato casserole dish. Never ever give up.)
Remember the original Lite Bright commercial from the 1970s? Me neither. But I saw it on Pinterest. I also know how to make mojito mint ice cubes, a skill in its own right. Not to mention the image of the Italian villa that must one day be mine, instructions to open your locked car door with a tennis ball, some decent photos of Johnny Depp (don’t judge me) and insider tips on how Target plans their clearance mark-downs. Indispensable information, people.
Curious about the addictive genius of this kind of website, I decided to Google the psychology of the appeal of pinterest.com. And what do you know? Pages and pages of research. I should have known Psychology Today and Forbes magazines would be on top of this. The happy bottom line is that Psych Today doesn’t think we’re all crazy. They just think we all like pretty pictures. (Phew!)