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The Travie McCoy song is wrong.

I've always felt that with blogging, you had to had something to SAY, with capital letters. If you don’t have anything to SAY, then you’re just contributing to the noise that is the Internet. This is true, I still believe. The Internet is a rowdy place. It’s a frathouse party at every “party college” campus you’ve never thought about attending. It’s filled with smut and pretty girls and nice things you think you want. I’m in marketing. I contribute daily to the noisy party that is the Internet. It’s my job. So with my blog, I’ve always written from places of the heart.

That’s not entirely true either, though. I’ve always written from places of the heartache. I write the best shit I’m ever going to write when I’m suffering, when I’m mad and angry and sad and confused. Some people I know are perpetually suffering, mad, angry, sad and confused. Those people make excellent writers. Maybe that’s what it takes to be a real writer, or at least harnessing that all the time. I’m not going to sit here and speculate on what it takes to “be a writer” and feel bad for myself, though. I mean, I do it in my head all the time. I’m just trying not to contribute to the noise.

I love Pinterest. I look at it obsessively. I have this vague half-baked notion that by looking at Pinterest, I will cultivate some sort of “taste” and become intuitively crafty. If I look at enough pictures of ugly dresses, I’ll like ugly dresses, and what’s more, I’ll look good in them. If I look at picture after picture of apartments and living spaces I’m supposed to think are “cute,” I’ll learn how to make my apartment look like that, instead of it looking like this very real haphazard place that I inhabit. If I look at enough skinny-girl torsos, I’ll start wanting to be a skinny girl and stop eating. But Pinterest isn’t really good for much else than making us want. Want want want. Creighton and I are on this consumer detox. This is painfully pretentious and hipster and hilarious (considering my career), but on the other hand it’s also practical. It’s about saving money for retirement, which is one of the least sexy sentences ever written. It’s about spending less and thinking you need less and ultimately wanting and wasting less while still having and doing everything you do actually want. It’s about sifting through the noise. I look at Pinterest to remind me of what I might want and what the world thinks I need, but I don’t act on it. I try to ignore the feeling inadequate. I try to remember that our budget looks awesome. We are on schedule to literally be millionaires by age 40.


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