Social Media is awesome. You can instantly find out if someone is getting a mani/pedi with their mom, broke up with their boyfriend, moved to a different country, or purchased a Juicy wallet. You can browse through pictures and watch people grow up or revert back to child’s play.
Everything you want or don’t want to know can be found in the continuously edited, Facebook. The feed scrolls on the upper right hand corner as you like another picture, share another link, and venture off to another smoothie shack.
Then, in the afternoon delight, when you have done enough for the day to feel useful, but not enough to feel awesome, you venture onto social media and wonder, “Why haven’t I booked my flight to Rome?” or “Waited in line for three hours to hear Obama speak?” Then it gets crazy. Things like “laundry day,” “painting nails,” and “organizing a closet,” leave the realm of blase to the point where you feel banal and start redecorating and googling top blogs for organizing.
The madness magnifies in picture form. Instagram makes a usual Sunday brunch transform into something idyllic .
Should you, dare I say delete your social exposure and information source in order to stay content with your wine and movie nights?