Liar, Liar, Blog on Fire.

OK, so remember when I said I wasn't all that interested in Pinterest?

Um... I was wrong.

About two days ago I pinned this picture onto my board:

I like it, and I thought it was cute. Apparently so did everyone else, because within 2 hours 47 other people had added it to their boards too. A number of people also "liked" it, and 5 or so people started following my boards. My e-mail comes straight to my Droid, so I was blowing up with notifications.

Obviously, this makes me feel like a rock star. On the other hand, I accomplished absolutely nothing. I didn't make the original image. I didn't write the Harry Potter books. I'm just a dealer of internet commodities: I see the pictures of cats, or dresses, or whatever, and then I move them around.

I suppose the question is "How much value does being an internet taste maker have?" The internet has become deeply entwined with our daily living as our electronic selves and our live selves have merged into the same person. I'm on the internet at least a solid two hours a day, and my smart phone lets me carry the web anywhere I want to go. I've spent so much time looking into the abyss that I, like almost everyone else I know, have been consumed.

Surprisingly though, I'm not sure it's such a bad thing. It's nice to have social media sites like Pinterest and Facebook to filter recipes, articles, and events for me so that I can generally find whatever I want pretty quickly. I like to be able to see sites picked out by my friends, and to expand my knowledge of things I may not have come across on my own. I also like pictures of cats.

Lots and lots of cats.

I Can't Believe I Don't Love Pinterest.

I know, I'm shocked too. It seems like something I'd love, right?

I recently opened a Pinterest account because I'm a 27 year internet fiend, so why not? Quite a few of my friends are deeply in love with their Pinterest, and it felt like something that I would like. Fancy crafts! Wedding dresses! Pictures of trees!

I'm honestly surprised that it hasn't caught my interest in the way I thought it might. As much as I enjoy amassing pictures of cats and sparkly dresses (Lord knows that I do), the whole thing feels kind of sterile. I feel like the little boxes aren't large enough to have a conversation, and most of the posters I follow are strangers so I don't have that much to say to them anyways.

Having strangers repin a picture of Ariel that I repinned from another stranger's board just isn't all that fulfilling. Even though the site is ostensibly meant to spread ideas from one person to another, I don't feel like it's creating the sense of community that is at the heart of Facebook, Livejournal, or blogs.

I think the need for community is the reason that I'm so attached to the internet, even as it sometimes keeps me from building real community. Nursing school keeps me indoors an awful lot, and I relish being able to keep up with my old friends in a fast, convenient way. Facebooking isn't as intimate as a phone call, but it's certainly the easiest way to keep up with 600 people at once. I feel like Pinterest is based on the idea of creating communities with similar interests, but you aren't actually learning anything new about your follwers or connecting with them on any real level.

While I'm not planning on closing my Pinterest account (like I said, I do love pictures of cats), I don't see it becoming a big part of my internet life. My last week on Pinterest has actually encouraged me to try to spend more of my time making new things. I recently started doing little watercolors again, and I'm making an attempt to reestablish this blog. I realized recently that nursing school will be over in a few months, and that I don't want to finish May feeling like I've frittered away all of my creativity over the last few years into witty status updates. I don't have any big plans, but I'd like to spend more of my time reading interesting, edifying books or creating something new, even if it isn't that schmancy. It will do me good to be more open and more nurturing with myself. After all, I'm the only me I have.