Currently reading
Frackistan: The Promise and Peril of America’s Energy Revolution
Savaging the Dark
The End-of-Life Handbook: A Compassionate Guide to Connecting with and Caring for a Dying Loved One
Final Journeys: A Practical Guide for Bringing Care and Comfort at the End of Life
A Better Way of Dying: How to Make the Best Choices at the End of Life
Handbook for Mortals: Guidance for People Facing Serious Illness
Change Anything: The New Science of Personal Success
S.
Dances in Two Worlds: A Writer-Artist's Backstory
Tigers in Red Weather
How to Quinoa: Life Lessons from My Imaginary Well-Dressed Daughter
For me, this should not have been a sit-down-and-read-in-one-go type of deal. Quinoa will blast me for saying that.
I will respond by wearing toe socks and Walmart pajama pants with sincerity.
The pictures are as delightful here as they are on Pinterest (http://www.pinterest.com/tiffanywbwg/my-imaginary-well-dressed-toddler-daughter/ and several others), the most-best part, as always, being the names of Quinoa's friends.
While little Vidalia gnawed on the side view mirror, Quinoa explained to her cousin Anhedonia that when somebody leaves the keys in the ignition of their vintage car, they actually want you to take it for a spin (Source: Pinterest page linked above)
But the text? It was way too much to handle all at once. Instead of smiling wryly over the not-so-subtle jabs at pop-culture, haute couture, and the lemming-like devotion so many display for trends, I began to grow irritated at the harsh reminder of how narcissistic, self-indulgent, and completely ridiculous portions of our first-world culture can be.
Granted, my mind knows this has always been the case. I mean, look at what happened to Marie Antoinette. But, even as a parody, this was too overwhelming, even depressing, to gulp down in a single sitting.
I would have enjoyed this far more had I paced myself, taken tiny sips of Chevron's idolatry of her BFF, mused longer on Ramen's quirks, or slowly pondered Twerk's life philosophy (No shirt, no shoes, no drama, no high-fructose corn syrup, and no gluten).
Also, if you step back and strip the actual pictures of their sardonic-yet-charming captions, you begin to realize how terrifying the marketing world is, creepily sexualizing children to sell products or heavily pushing the colorful sentiment of childhood innocence to create a desire for, again, products. Whoever dreamed this marketing scheme should probably be shot but is actually probably already long dead so that would be a pointless endeavor.
Still. It's super creepy.
Yeah. I'm going to stick to the Pinterest page. Smaller doses, less agitation, more faith in humanity.