It is only so fitting that a weekend spent home in stereotypical suburbia would induce a post on nothing other than good ol’ nostalgia. I’m neither old nor poor enough (yet) to have a real understanding of what it’s like to miss things like being young, waving my prepubescent brother off to recreational soccer practice on a crisp fall afternoon, or hearing the never-ending hum of my teenaged brother’s shitty Windows laptop (a hand-me-down from moi) as he grunts in dissatisfaction at Dungeons and Dragons (or whatever games he plays on there). To my misfortune, all of the above is yet to change. Actually, it all happened this morning. But it’s still weird to be back in my hometown for the first time in a long time. It sort of feels like I never left. Then again, it sort of feels like I never lived here at all.
Nostalgia is a feeling–it is an emotion or a way of thought. Similarly to the way I’m Shmacked turned the intoxicated state of mind into what they call “a movement,” nostalgia took those “remember when…” thoughts and turned them into an even bigger movement, but a slightly less obnoxious one. Nostalgia has become laced like a bad drug into many aspects of our everyday lives. Yet, we keep smoking life by the pound and barely realize the affect that the past has on us. “Throwback Thursdays”? My relentless need to wear ankle socks with tennis sneakers? Overalls, overalls, and more overalls? The past isn’t just ever-lingering… it’s fucking trendy.
I was one of the kids that waited my entire life to grow up. I used to try and manipulate the game of MASH so that I would get the life that I wanted. In elementary school I knew where I wanted to go to college, what job I wanted to pursue, where I wanted to live, and how many kids I wanted to have (none of these opinions have changed, literally). My wedding plans are already a decade old, at least. I knew in kindergarten who I wanted to marry, too. And although that changed by the time I hit seventh grade, I still consistently had someone I wanted to–no, I was going to–marry. My best friends consider one of my defining characteristics to be my necessity for pre-planned baby names. Once, someone asked me about my future husband’s opinions, or any relatives of his that he would want to name our children after. My response: “What opinions?”
At the same time, someone like me who has always been so eager to grow up was also so eager to wear a “spin-spin” dress every day to school as a sixteen-year-old and cry for someone to tickle my back whenever I didn’t feel 100%. I am also, obviously, a huge fan of the #tbt. My favorite game is “remember when?” which is a game I made up where, basically, the rules involve one person saying “Remember when…” followed by a funny memory that happened in the recent past. It also has to be ironic in the sense that of course everyone remembers when it happened because it happened so recently, but you had to ask just to make sure anyway.
We could be so obsessed with the past because of the obvious reasons: we miss it, there is an inner child in all of us, it’s fun to dress up as a slutty 90’s Mary Kate and Ashley for Halloween, etc. etc. etc. But it isn’t why we’re so obsessed with it that interests me; it’s the fact that we spent our whole lives waiting to be in the ripe decade we’re barely beginning and now that we’re here, we use our mature social media skills to go back to where we started. So, what is it that we want? To be old, or to be young? Then again, I’m a Jewish woman, so I’ll never make up my mind no matter what.
People are very split when it comes to opinions on Instagramming food. Many of you have read (and if you haven’t, then you should) Katherine Markovich’s “An Open Letter To People Who Take Pictures of Food With Instagram,” posted on McSweeny’s not too long ago. The column piece went absolutely viral as thousands and thousands of people who spend entirely too much time on Facebook/the internet ironically agreed with Markovich’s scornful rant on those who combine eating time with social media presence. As a food-stagramer myself, I cannot say that I am against the movement. I’d like to write an “open letter” to this thought-piece which, although humorous, just doesn’t get it right.
First of all, no matter how hard you try, you are never going to get people to stop taking photos of their food. Why? Many reasons. People like food. People really, really like food. Also, sometimes people have a hard time finding something to Instagram. And when those people haven’t Instagrammed in quite some time and are looking to turn something from dull to Lo-Fi brilliance, food is an easy place to turn.
Second of all, the title of her piece is almost as infuriating as the piece itself. You cannot take a “picture.” You can, however, take a photograph. And you (usually) don’t take photos of something “with” Instagram. The piece’s title just goes to show how little Markovich knows about Insta and it’s utilization in American syntax. “To Instagram” is a verb, and “Instagram” is a proper noun in reference to the application itself. But you cannot do or take something with Instagram. And if you don’t know that about Insta-grammar (clever, right?), then you shouldn’t be writing an article about Instagram at all.
When I went to Italy last summer, we would take photos of our meals every time we ate. Yes, I Insta’d a bunch of them. But I wasn’t Insta’ing every single plate at every single meal. Most were for the memories. You can food-stagram in moderation, and that’s OK. My mentor in life, love, and the pursuit of
being skinny happiness, Bethenny Frankel, says “Food is not your best friend or your enemy.” Food is like a one night stand–just because we’re Instagramming a photo of it doesn’t mean that we’re obsessed with it. It just means it looks yummy and delicious and would look great in Amaro.
A big point that most people make in the case against food-stagramming is that people who do it think of themselves as professional photographers or artists. No, no, no, don’t even go there girlfriend. Posting a photo of a slice of chocolate cake is just like posting a photo of you and your best friend… especially for some people. Lolz.
Now that you’re hungry, click here for some food porn.
Because Kanye West’s new album, Yeezus, is supposedly a literal work of God, I thought it was worth a good haiku review. Surprisingly, and probably unlike most other females I would typically associate myself with, I actually really like this album and listen to it in its entirety at least once a day… not even kidding. However, that doesn’t mean I’m not about to go all out HAM on these haikus.
Yeezus by Kanye West1. On Sight Aliens invade Mixed with an unfortunate Song by Depeche Mode [*note–if you have never heard an unfortunate song by Depeche Mode, listen here. The lyrics start at 0:35, but the music video is funny enough to compensate for the ear bleed. I promise, you’ll laugh.] 2. Black Skinhead Is it me, or is This song not from “The Lion King” soundtrack? 3. I Am A God (by Kanye West and God) Thank the heavens* that Hashem was able to make This recording sesh! [*Lolz, punny] 4. New Slaves Kanye gets deep with These lyrics. Also Alvin (The chipmunk) sings some. 5. Hold My Liquor I really like this. Do not understand how he is a lightweight though…? 6. I’m In It Audio track from Kim’s sex tape plus Kanye’s good time with “Asian girl.” 7. Blood On The Leaves Beauty. Kanye got Zero’s g-ma from “Holes” to Sing it. Amirite? 8. Guilt Trip Wait, what? I just got Distracted by an Insta Of Scott Disick’s beard. 9. Send It Up What is he sending Up and please tell me why it Is not going down?????? 10. Bound 2 Best on Yeezus. Sing This to me and we can get Married. Pinky swear.
Your Most Trusted And Knowledgeable Source For All Music Review Haikus, Especially Those In The Rap Genre (because obviously) (haha jokes).
Before Vine fades into the darkness and becomes nothing more than a quintessential #tbt, I wanted to make sure I acknowledged its great presence in the social media world by naming it Flavor of the Week.
As you may or may not know, we are very concerned about the longevity of Vine because Instagram, now basically Mark Zuckerburg and his wife London Tipton, decided to swoop in and cross social boundaries by
sitting with the Plastics at lunch enabling a video function.
I have many mixed emotions about this, but my immediate response was that this is blatantly #rude #rude #rude of Insta. It’s like an unspoken rule of apps–you find your medium, and you stick to it. Instagram is for photos, Twitter is for complaining, Facebook is for stalking, and Vine is for a combination of stalking and displaying your wealth or your good-looking boy toy. There is a cuh-lear separation here that Instagram decided to ignore.
I have a Twitter BFF, @LindsayBrandes (def follow her–she’s sometimes obnoxious, always funny… JK, she’s always obnoxious… JK lolz again, love ya Linds), and she was basically having a panic attack over the video app crossover. This was how our conversation went:
In other words, we are having serious white girl problems.
If you were wondering, I decided to stick with Vine for vids and Insta for pics. And, BTW, after taking an antibiotic twice a day and Benadryl three times a day for the past week, my rash/spider bite is finally on the mend!
If there is one aspect of the iPhone that has revolutionized its use–more than its calendar and alarm functions, more than my Neopets app, and more than the birth control reminder–it is the integration of the emoji. For anyone unaware (although being unaware of emojis is comparable to being unaware of the ability to involuntarily breathe), an emoji is a little teeny weeny cartoon face that you can use to communicate on an iPhone. If you have a Droid, you are not relevant. #sorrynotsorry.
Emojis come in all forms, and can portray any possible emotion ever felt by mankind. Ever.
Take this, for example. Once, someone who is kind of anonymous used an emoji to convey to me that he had farted:
A really big moment was when whoever makes all of the cute emojis in the little emoji factory added the homosexual emojis, which had not previously been of option:
This also happened recently:
As you can see, conversation via iMessage would not be the same without emojis. Old people hate our generation because we talk by texting and avoiding conversation face-to-face. Whoever thinks that is obviously wrong, because as a millennial, I can honestly say that I have never felt more face-to-face in my life. You can tell more about me by my choice of emoji than you can by reading my Harry Potter glow-in-the-dark diary.
You know what they say–an emoji says a thousand words.