I’m going to be as controversial as a 25 year old female can be and lay some rules down: much like Pluto is no longer identified as a planet, I, in my infinite blogging power, have declared macarons no longer be identified as a dessert, and instead, a delightful prop. Don’t get me wrong, I do find them utterly beautiful and adorable and love how they can match with any dreamy color scheme across the world wide web, but it’s time we face facts and accept that their taste is not on par with the major players of the sweets world. Seriously, even the most visually-appealing macaron can’t hold a pastel-colored candle to a rich, freshly-baked brownie paired with vanilla ice cream that’s just beginning to melt atop the warm chocolate morsel, melding the two flavors together. Picking up a macaron between your pointer finger and thumb to bring to your lips will never be as satisfying as holding a spoon between those same fingers that gently breaks the caramelized-sugar top of a fluffy Creme Brûlée. Show me a macaron with an exotic filling and I will show you a Red Velvet Cupcake with homemade cream cheese icing piped inside that will make your tastebuds weep. Take photos of them, pretend you’re in Paris if you indulge in them, but realize macarons’ true worth lies in Instagram likes and iPhone backgrounds, not in caloric joy.
First things first: I am unapologetically pro-selfie. I believe there’s absolutely nothing wrong with posting photos of yourself on the internet and actually am quite the advocate of the self-esteem boost that comes when you are feeling your look that day and want to share it. Learned a new makeup look? Selfie it. Having a good hair day? Selfie that. Simply in love with your own face for a few minutes? By all means, selfie away- but, I do think there’s something so hilariously unspoken in the fact that everyone, both those for and opposed to a feed filled with your own face know: it’s never as effortless as it looks online. Somewhere on this earth (probably a beachside villa) there is a small population of people who can take 1 photo only and have it be up to their standards, but for the rest of us living in real life, there’s several minutes of angles, moving towards the light, moving away from the light, second guessing your features, hoping no one can see you right now, flipping your hair, having small panic attacks when it looks like you grew an extra chin from that one side, cringing, laughing at your own ridiculousness, blurring, pursing your lips, fake-giggling, smiling too big, trying to look serious, trying to look like you don’t care, squinting, editing, and analyzing before you can decide on an appropriate shot to curate your own personal brand from the 242 you ‘casually’ snapped. (Oh, and of course, it always ends up being the first one.)
So, there’s a double-edged sword with online arguments, because, in a way, internet arguments are actually the worst. Comment wars and twitter rants are so annoying and draining of time, joy, and dignity, but at the same time, so utterly laughable in their ridiculousness. The internet creates this absurd wall that makes people feel bold, since they’re not facing anyone head-on, and in turn, leads to typing striking statements that they’d never actually say out loud. Nearly no one has ever been convinced to change their mind due to a few typed sentences, with no context, empathy, or understanding, so what you’re left with is a bunch of pointless CAPITAL LETTERS on a website that I think our ancestors would laugh at as confrontation, and a sheepish strategy for getting your point across. (Although, I will say that I do wish I could use a gif to express my side of an argument in real life). In a way, they’re better on the internet, because to me, they hardly seem real or effective, so it’s like they don’t even count as a true, gritty, growth-giving, decision-making argument.
Any plane ride, ever
As a rite of passage into making any sort of video or vlog about your life on the Internet, there is bound to be some shot of a sun-filtered airport, peaceful clouds outside a plane window, and a wave from the seat row. I have proof, and am 100% guilty of this footage, too, so I’m coming clean. We see these brief moments of travel and think, “oh, so fabulous!” but the truth is that the 4 seconds of blissful window shots are just that- 4 seconds. In reality, every airport is far from fantastic, and in between the overwhelming Auntie Anne’s smell that lingers whether you indulged in a pretzel bites with icing combo or not (which, no shame if you did, have you had that icing????) and the non-diva experience of removing your clothing, shoes, accessories and damn-near dignity at the TSA checkpoint, there is nothing joyful to be found, no matter how many times the opening monologue in Love, Actually tries to convince us that airports are romantic. On the internet, flying is a visceral experience of wonder, but in real life, it is a far-too-physical experience of hoping that your flight is on time, praying that your suitcase is under 50 pounds, wishing that you could have the whole row to yourself, crossing your fingers that A.) someone nice and possibly cute sits near you and strikes up a good conversation, but doesn’t talk the whole time because you have some good playlists you curated and podcasts you downloaded specifically for this trip B.) no one sits near you, giving you room to breathe and do your crossword in peace without feeling like they are looking over your shoulder and judging you that you didn’t know the clue about Shakespeare plays, like, SORRY that the public school system didn’t require us to read ALL of them C.) please, oh please, don’t let the guy holding the Subway sandwich sit here, PLEASE, I DON’T WANNA SMELL LIKE SUBWAY FOR THE REST OF THIS FLIGHT, CAN WE NOT and pleading with your phone battery to stay alive, if not just long enough to capture yet another photo out of the plane window to post on social media to ease your pain with validation in the form of comments since your good attitude went south as soon as the baby in baggage claim started crying. Oh well.
What are they? Why are they healthy? Why can they hold so much water? Why should I eat them? Why are they on every smoothie or acai bowl or frozen yogurt or salad? Do they have a taste? Should I care? Do you care? Do you remember caring about Chia Pets? Would you rather have a Chia Pet or a chia seed? Case closed.
I don’t know how to express this without a strong sense of personal failure, but I have always wanted to be a cool girl. In my mind, the things that make a ~cool girl~ actually cool have changed over the years, but at some point, maybe 2011-2014, I assumed that it involved a very thick set of bangs. (I blame Zooey Deschanel and Rashida Jones for this, as they both seem so effortlessly hip and smart and just the right amount of quirky and boy oh boy do they have the world’s best bangs.) Unfortunately, for several of us not blessed by calmer hair texture, humid-free environments, or simply just willpower in the morning to blow-dry and style them, bangs are truly the best when they’re in a hair inspiration board on Pinterest, and away from our foreheads. Those of you brave souls rocking bangs: know that I salute you and that I am forever jealous of your lovely locks, but if you see me post-breakup or in the middle of a stressful situation holding scissors with a wild look in my eyes, please remove them from my hands and remind me that cowlicks never die and frizz is very real.
I’m not trying to deny that getting fit and staying active is a bad thing, but let’s be real: the actual “work” part of working out isn’t glamorous. It’s usually sweaty, uncomfortable, tiring, and just generally seems to never look as carefully curated as we could hope for. ‘Fitness’ on the internet involves intense documentation of before and after shots, toned thighs, counting whatever a macro is, food prep photos, “checking in” at the gym, and a lot of fun I-look-cute-when-I-sweat images, mostly from Kate Hudson’s new workout clothing line (which, not gonna lie, I have heard wonderful things about, so props to you, Kate, I forever love you as Penny Lane and now as a yoga pant princess, too). Fitness: we get it, you occasionally have your pretty moments. Ain’t nobody got time to be a babe every time you sweat, but wouldn’t it be so magical if the online post-workout glow was as real as those ads every time? For now, me and my heavy breathing and messy bun salute you.
Pranks and Falls
Not a day goes by that I don’t see a short video clip on my various timelines of someone being pranked, tripping, falling, or being startled or scared, and all I can say is that if you actually laugh at someone while this is happening to them in real life, 9 times out of 10, you just look like a jerk. Sure, we all can giggle later or when we see it replayed on the internet, but in the moment, it’s pretty harsh. However, that 10th out of 10th time that someone does laugh aloud at their own dismay in real life is a true blessing, and that person should be rewarded with something wonderful. (Just don’t reward them with a macaron, FOR THE LOVE.)