Is Pinterest Here To Stay?

In total Internet traffic in January 2012, Pinterest placed fifth, beating out YouTube and coming extremely close to overcoming Twitter. Can Pinterest compete with other social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter? I think it can, but only to a certain extent.

Recently, Mashable posted an article reporting that Pinterest has developed a new layout. Rather than having five cluttered columns with photos for people to pin, Pinterest will do something that is pretty similar to Facebook’s timeline, although CEO Ben Silbermann claims that Pinterest is very distinguishable from the timeline setting on Facebook. Yet, it’s hard not to relate it to the top social networking site.

For those who are unaware of the recently popular website Pinterest, the site allows users to “pin” photos and descriptions that interest them. This could be anything from pinning a picture of a ridiculously cute bulldog riding a swing to pinning a picture of a blue window that you want in your future home.

This might seem like a strange concept; in fact, similar ideas have failed in the past. Pinterest, however, works. Pinterest gives users the ability to monitor whose pins they can see and what genres of pins they are exposed to. Each person can personalize his or her profiles with different pin boards. For example, I have a pin board entitled “Home Sweet Home” where I pin everything home-related that I like, such as gorgeously decorated kitchens or funky staircases.

Pinterest is unique enough to work as an additional social networking site rather than as a replacement for sites like Facebook or Twitter. An extremely visual site, Pinterest can be highly addicting, especially during class time. Sometimes browsing on Facebook can get extremely repetitive and boring, whereas Pinterest is rather, “pinteresting.” Pinterest also incorporates the idea of the “retweet” by allowing users to pin others posts.

I do have one concern, however, and that is Pinterest’s lack of appeal to all demographics. How many males are actually using Pinterest? Out of 133 people I follow on the site, only four of them are males. As successful as the site may be for females, I feel like males have other sites to express their interest in “masculine” pastimes. Pinning pictures of a basketball might not really do it for them.
Pinterest is definitely an exciting website to be part of the social networking mix, but how long will it last? I enjoy Pinterest, but new sites launch daily. Who knows which site will grab my attention next?

Inconveniences of air travel don’t detract fun

As a result of the recent fuselage breakage incident that took place on a Southwest Boeing airplane, air travel has not been viewed in the most positive of lights. We all have certain fears about flying, and it is a rather serious endeavor, but I get such a thrill and pleasure out of the flying experience as a whole.

For me, most of the entertainment takes place in the airport. I love airports. I spend most of my time people watching and contemplating the endless possibilities of someone's "story" that I make up in my mind. Do you think that man and woman are dating? Hmm, their body language is a bit awkward and they are wearing professional clothes—maybe they are on a business trip?

Once it's time to go through security, make sure to have your identification and boarding pass readily available. The security guy hardly cracks a smile as I hand him my NY License and flimsy boarding pass. He takes out his handy dandy flashlight and grills my ID as if I am a terrorist hiding weapons in my Vera Bradley duffle. The girl in front of me looked like Lily Pulitzer barfed all over her, yet the guard was just as serious. Better safe than sorry.

If you are a frequent traveler, you are prepared for the routine that takes place at the security belt. By the time I'm up to the security belt, I've already got my laptop in hand, shoes off, liquids in plastic bags and jewelry clutched in my fist. Unfortunately, it is probable that you will get behind the traveler who takes their sweet time during this process, and when they approach the security belt, they have merely squinted at the sign to see what size liquids are acceptable. Three ounces, people.

If you manage to make it this far without being chosen at random for a full-body frisking, it's time to proceed to the gate listed on your ticket. All of a sudden, you are swarmed by travelers in every direction, and the airport begins to look more and more like a shopping mall. Something I find funny about airports is that regardless of the time of day, it seems acceptable to eat whatever you want before your flight. It's 9 a.m. and you're chomping down a Big Mac or a full chicken parm dinner? There's no way I am sitting near you on the plane.

"We are now boarding all passengers in group C." If you fly on a seat-yourself airline like Southwest, this announcement usually results in passengers swarming to their respective poles, anxious to fight for the last two window or aisle seats. Once you've mashed yourself in between those two people you saw eating McDonalds, you pray they won't start biting your ear off. Sure enough, the man sitting to your left has a niece who graduated from Loyola, so you can't help but dread the hours of forced enthusiasm that await you.

The flight attendant finally interrupts the painful conversation by offering free drinks. I obviously always choose to order a ginger ale because, as Mommy taught me when I was five, it settles your stomach. Suddenly, the plane begins to shake and the pilot gets on the loud speaker: "We are currently experiencing some turbulence in the area. We should start to fly smoothly again in about 10 minutes or so." As much as you can claim you have no fear of flying, you can't help but think for that split second, "What if we went down?" Then your heart starts beating out of your chest, and your hands get all clammy, and suddenly you are convincing yourself that there's no way the plane can crash because Rihanna is sitting three rows ahead of you, and how dare a plane crash with a superstar on board. The flight gets smooth again and you sigh to yourself in relief. The next song you choose to play on your iPod is Bob Marley's "Everything Is Gonna Be Alright."

As the plane begins to descend, the flight attendant catches you with your headphones in and iPod on and restates her words of authority, "ALL electronics must be powered OFF."

As soon as the wheels hit the ground and the plane has safely landed, you anxiously reach into your carry-on bag and turn your phone on. No text messages. No BBMs. Only an email from the New York Times. I guess you're really not as important as you think.

Once you've exited the plane, you weave through people and rush to the exit, nauseated yet heartwarmed by people holding "WELCOME HOME" signs and flowers for their loved ones. After spending hours of travel time people watching and curiously observing strangers, you can't help but wonder if anyone is looking at you and thinking to themselves: "What's her story?"

FOX’s teen drama Glee illustrates perils of underage drinking

The power of Glee has reached a whole new level. The show started off as a simple group of high school students battling between the desire to be popular and being a nerd in the Glee club (more formerly known as New Directions.) Working off of its high horse, Glee has recently featured celebrities such as John Stamos and Gwenyth Paltrow, but that's not all. The show, at times a heartwarming depiction of reality and at others ridiculously farfetched, has now begun to incorporate teaching life lessons into every episode.

One of the first issues tackled was bullying. Dave, the Glee character who plays the role of the consistent slushy-throwing bully, finally came around a little bit in the premiere of the spring season. He was so inspired by the choreographed dance to "Thriller" at the halftime show that he hopped right on the field to join in and forgot about all the tension and differences.

The following episode revolved around Valentine's Day and featured many love songs. Here comes the unexpected: Puck, the hot football jock, fell for Lauren, the nerdy, female wrestler. Maybe opposites do attract. In this same episode, everybody caught mono, mainly because Quinn cheated on Sam with Finn. Here it seemed as if the directors of Glee were teaching us that it is wrong to cheat on your boyfriend or girlfriend.

The third episode was all about the Bieber experience. Well…I guess the only lesson learned here was that Bieber Fever really does exist. I'M A BELIEBER!

The most recent episode, "Blame it on the Alcohol," tackles one of the most controversial issues in our society: underage drinking. The audience of college students probably all had a similar reaction: "YES! THEY'RE GONNA GET DRUNK!" Parents of younger children and high school students might have been disappointed, claiming that the episode sent a provocative message. However, it wasn't until the end of the episode that viewers realized that Glee actually approached this topic with a smarter strategy.

After the Glee club performed "Tik Tok" by artist "Key-dollar-sign-HA," the episode came full circle. As bothersome as it was to watch the Brillo-headed teacher Mr. Schuester act as a father-figure to the kids in Glee club, the overall message made complete sense. Underage drinking is inevitable. Although our parents and elders may not accept it, the least they can do is be available for us, rather than scare kids into making even worse decisions.

Maybe you drank in high school, maybe you didn't. Maybe you drink in college, maybe you don't. Maybe you were an early bloomer and started drinking in seventh grade. I remember my first drink, and I certainly didn't come running home to share the news with my mom and dad. Instead, I rummaged through the fridge when I got home to find anything with garlic or chocolate to cover up the smell in my mouth.

Things have certainly changed since that day, mainly because I did my best to respect my parents and their rules as they respected me as a growing teenager. They were by no means buying me bottles of Bacardi Razz and pouring me shots before my friend's Sweet Sixteen; however, I did know that my dad would pick me up at any time and anywhere without question. To this day, my dad still wouldn't deny me this promise. (Yes, he is the greatest man I know.)

At the end of the day, Glee is making a smart move. Although the show might appeal to the younger crowd, there are a large amount of adult Gleeks out there. Maybe those extremely strict parents with kids who get blood alcohol poisoning their first night out at college might rethink the way they handle underage drinking.

So fellow classmates, if you ever find yourself in an unsafe situation due to drinking, just call Mr. Schuester's cell and he will pick you up no matter where you are—even if it means he has to drive all the way to Baltimore from McKinley High in Ohio or some flashy set in L.A. Or you could call my dad.

And that's what you missed on…GLEE!

Greek life at Loyola would only complicate a divided campus

Last weekend was the conclusion to Loyola's sorority and fraternity pledge week. The sororities on Guilford Avenue were excited to announce that they have received the highest number of recruits in the history of Loyola, and the fraternities on York Road didn't share much information, though we do hear they plan to throw more keg parties than ever this spring.

One of the rules during pledge week for sorority Kappa Kappa Gamma was that no pledge could look another member of the sorority in the eye on campus or acknowledge pledges of other sororities.

Rumor has it one freshman recruit for KKG forgot to wear sunglasses on the bridge and accidentally waved to someone she thought was her RA. It wasn't her RA—it was the Member Chair of KKG. She received a note in her mail stop later that day stating: "you made the glance, you lost the chance. You're out." Not even an extra-large Red Mango fro-yo with extra strawberries could cheer her up.

The fraternities have been taking a more competetive approach. Rather than ignoring each other on the bridge, the upperclassmen of fraternities such as Delta Phi and Kappa Sigma run up to their freshman pledges and whack them with lacrosse wands or trip them with their hockey sticks.

Pledges interested in joining the lacrosse players' fraternity were forced to bring their sticks everywhere they went; they attached leashes to them and used them to take notes in class, used them like a bindlestiff to carry their books; and if a girl approached them, would place their lacrosse sticks between them gaze into the mesh net of their sticks while saying, "Sorry, I'm taken."

Though none of this is terribly far-fetched, you catch my drift. None of this happened. But imagine if it did.

Imagine a world at Loyola where the already egotistical sports players and brand-occupied girls walked on the stone decorated campus feeling an even stronger power because they were part of Greek life.

The other night, I was finally next in line after a long wait for a bar bathroom. I was approached by a girl who, with arms folded, gave me the death stare and said, "I'm a senior."

All I said back to her was "Cool. I'm a junior…"

Though I would have loved to grab a lacrosse stick and whack her or trip her with a hockey stick like my fellow frat-bro's would do, I held back and let her take her pride and pee into the beer-soaked seatless toilet.

That night, all I could really think was how grateful I was to St. Ignatius for keeping Loyola grounded as a truly Jesuit institution. Even though there might be a certain divide between grades at Loyola, it doesn't come close to the segregation schools with Greek life experience. Loyola may have a hierarchy of sorts, but if we can live without the abundance of theme parties and deal with having at least '80s night and a hoedown or two, I'm content with the nonexistence of Greek life.

New zodiac signs don’t change what the stars have in store

A few weeks ago, news spread that the original zodiac sign you've grown up to believe in may, in fact, be false. Astronomers have proven that the stars alignment with the earth has shifted, causing Zodiac signs to move back a month. As easily as we can believe that our daily horoscope truthfully predicts the future, we can freak out because we've been living a lie up until this moment.

I was born on June 18; therefore I defined myself as a Gemini my entire life. When this astronomer came in and ruined it for all of us, I immediately Googled my daily and weekly horoscopes to see if I still believed my Gemini predictions were true. I wasn't ready to become a Taurus.

I pulled up the daily horoscope for Gemini and the first thing I read was "You are looking great today."

Well, thank you! I did go to the gym this morning before class and spent a few extra minutes putting together a nice outfit. I even put a little mascara on my eyelashes and adorned my ears with shiny white pearls. I continued to read that people notice my great smile—I mean, I did spend seven years in braces and had 19 teeth pulled out for this money-maker smile. So good to hear that someone is finally noticing it. Thank the stars!

The Gemini horoscope also predicted that the following day would be one of my best days this month. The stars were right again! I woke up to a PM Evergreen email informing students and faculty that school was closed due to the "inclement" weather of 2 inches of snow—the grass was still visible. I enjoyed my day eating chicken salad from the Evergreen and watching She's The Man, two of my absolute favorite things.

And then there is love. People usually skim over the beginning of their horoscopes and go immediately to the section that defines their love life. I am not going to lie—sometimes I am that girl. Apparently, my patience has been fading recently for love, but I should stay aware because someone is going to enter my life very soon.

Finally! I've been at Loyola for 5 semesters now and still haven't found the love of my life. All I want to do is be able to get married in the chapel and have my reception at Craigs. I can't wait to meet you, whoever you might be.

Now that I was up-to-date on my horoscope as I knew it to be, I decided to look into the predictions for a Taurus in case I was forced to conform my personality. Taurus made absolutely no sense to me.

It was like a ballerina trying to dance hip-hop for the first time. It was like drinking a Pepsi when Coca-Cola is all I ever knew. It didn't feel right.

The Babylonians came up with the Zodiac signs thousands of years ago. Yes, the stars have shifted. Yes, science might try and tell you that your sign has changed. But when it comes down to it, the Western Zodiac signs remain the same, as they were when the Babylonians invented the concept.

Sure, I choose to ignore all of the bad that my horoscope predicts. I also choose to ignore the fact that since the age of 13, horoscopes have been promising the encounter of the man I will marry, the business I will run, and the presidency I will experience, none of which have actually happened. I am and will forever be a Gemini, and no one can stop me to think otherwise.

Back in black and white... or green and grey

On my return back to the USA, I unfortunately fell behind in updating my blog. For one thing, I am not traveling to amazing cities in Europe every weekend. My life has gone back to that of a typical college student. However, since I still have a passion for writing and humorous writing for that matter, I decided to update my blog with my recent Opinion Articles for the Greyhound (Loyola's Newspaper).

http://www.loyolagreyhound.com/

The Last Hurrah

As I was addressing my last postcard from Paris to Justin Bieber,(who by the way hasn’t responded to ANY of my postcards…what the heck!) I realized it has been a while since I blogged.

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning just a little depressed that I wouldn’t be spending it the usual way. Usually, Chloe is snuggling in my nook until we both venture downstairs to watch the Macy’s parade. Usually, Katherine and I cuddle under warm blankets on the couch with our tea or coffee. Usually, the kitchen smells of sweet potatoes and pie soaking up flavor for the feast to come. Usually, I hear something like “RON… RON… COME OVER HERE… DID YOU PACK THE CAR YET… ROOOON.” You might know the sound.

Instead, I listened to Alice’s Restaurant alone in my room and forced myself to get dressed for school where there would be NO turkey, NO stuffing and NO pumpkin pie. After a boring lesson on European History and a group presentation in my Cultural Awareness class, it was time to go home quickly, pack my bag, and begin on my last journey of the semester: Paris.

Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a PB&J before I left my apartment and a bag of cookies on the plane. YUM!!!!!! After spending the majority of my Thanksgiving eve traveling to the lovely apartment of miss Kaela and Margaret, I was thrilled when I finally got to take a breather in their cozy abode. After I fixed my hair, powdered my nose and enjoyed some bread, wine, and cheese, it was time for my first night out in the French city. We all had a blast and danced the night away at this bar the Loyola Parisian crew had recently discovered. Kaela’s little sis Kristen probably had the most fun of us all. After enjoying the best view of the bar from Dinko’s shoulders, she almost became fluent in French! She managed to say the word ‘oui’ or ‘yes’ when answering many questions from her new French friends. As the sun creaked through the apartment window on Friday morning, I felt like Carrie Bradshaw, covered in boa feathers that miraculously were scattered around the floor, ready to conquer the city of Paris. Unlike Carrie Bradshaw, however, who would probably use the boa feathers to make some ridiculously hideous outfit and call it ‘fashion’, I decided to bundle up in jeans and a sweater.








Some other people must have been missing America a little bit because we ended up at an American diner enjoying nachos and cheeseburger for… breakfast? We then ‘hung out’ in Starbucks. After walking around the city and stopping in some vintage shops, Paris enjoyed its first snow of the season! We imagined Kaela probably peeing her pants with excitement as the white fluffy flakes fell while she was with her family on their last day in Paris. After walking around, we headed to the movie theater to see HP 7! It was spectacular. We tried to use our wizard spells and wand tricks to get us ready and out fast after the movie and it worked! After the first bar closed a little earlier than expected we moved on to a few other bars that hadn’t closed yet.

Saturday was the day I would meet the Eiffel Tower. To be honest, I didn’t think we would get along that well before I came to Paris, but when we finally shook hands (this was a little difficult) I was quite amazed by his beauty. Yes, I consider the Eiffel Tower a him because it really is breathtakingly handsome. Decorated with strong and sturdy steel, the Eiffel Tower proved to be an impressive icon. We couldn’t chat for long because apparently hundreds of people come to see him everyday. He was kind enough to let us take a few pictures and then led us on our way, ensuring we’d ‘probably see him again, even if it was from at a distance’.



He was right. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get away. For a while I was convinced he was following me, but by the time we got to the Christmas markets, he shrunk to the size of my thumb. We enjoyed some holiday cheer and splurged 10 Euro to ride the Ferris wheel. It was good company and a lovely view of the city. Later that night, we dined with the majority of the Paris crew at a delicious restaurant. After being full from my gnocchi and wine, Kaela and I headed home to chit chat and get a nights rest.




On Sunday, Kristina and I conquered the Louvre. Luck had our way and a nice man gave us his tickets as he was leaving and saved us 9.50 Euro to spend on bidding for the Mona Lisa. Apparently she’s not for sale, but seeing her smile up close and personal was pretty surreal. She’s also good at multitasking because even with 50 people standing around her, she’s able to keep eye contact with EVERY single one. No wonder they call her a masterpiece. After playing maze in the Louvre for a few hours, we walked to Notre Dame. Another French beauty I must say.
No better way to end my trip to Paris then the way it started: American food! Sunday night we munched on spicy wings and mozzarella sticks at Loyola’s favorite Canadian pub. We woke up Monday and flew back to the Dam for the last time. Tear.






Only three nights of peace and quiet until Brendan and Pat were invading Amsterdam. Mr. Ignozzi was nice enough to show them around a little on Thursday while I was suffering in class. He brought them to get some traditional Dutch food at Wok to Walk. After class, we reunited and I brought them to the Heineken Experience. After some thrilling beer drinking and good foosball fun, Pat was a little hungry for a sweet. . Full from pasta and baked goods, we called it a night.









After class on Friday morning, I cam back to the apartment and woke the boys up to get ready to go to Anne’s crib. Since Anne’s house is pretty much empty, I brought them to my favorite lunch restaurant, Singel. We devoured our oven baked flat breads and headed to the Huis. Since I have already toured the museum twice, I let them conquer this on their own. Unavoidably a little sad, we hopped back on a tram and as I headed home to finish some work, I let Brendan and Pat enjoy a few beers at the Sports Café. They came back here after, we all drank and made some toasts, met up with some other Loyola kids, and then for some reason headed out ahead of the crowd. Where did this bring us? WOK TO WALK. . We assumed Brendan must have been home or at least okay because he hadn’t bbmed us. After walking around the city and trying to follow the tram tracks home, he made it almost all the way here until he thought he was going the wrong way. He headed back toward the city center and made a pit stop in the Marriot Hotel, pretending that he was waiting for his friends to meet him there to check in. After chatting with the doormen etc. he somehow was given a warm cup of hot chocolate as he continued to lie to the generous employees of the Marriot. When they weren’t looking, he ran. Apparently slept for a little while on a random persons doormat and gave up and took a taxi home. When we asked him why he didn’t bbm us, he told us his phone was locked and the password was not his normal password, but rather the word password.




We all enjoyed a nice long sleep on Saturday. Finally around 1:30, the boys headed to see some art at the Van Gogh museum and I continued to sit in my sweats and do absolutely nothing. Jaclyn and I did make it to the grocery store around 4. We had a Taco Saturday and the weekend was winding down. After an early, miserable walk to the train on Sunday morning, I hugged the Irish folks goodbye and sent them on their way.

Time is winding down and I have 12 short days left in this country. 6 finals to go!

JB. PLEASE WRITE BACK.