When Instagram Goes Down

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For a few hours yesterday, the world seemed a bit lighter. A bit more real and a little more happier. I wasn’t sure what was going on but I was quite productive and felt good. And then it became obvious.

Instagram was down.

Instagram is a photo sharing app that is owned by the overlord Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook. It was launched in October in 2010 and has since grown to over 1 billion monthly active users every month. People often criticise it, blaming it for the upswing on mental health problems in our kids, because they are looking at very beautiful people taking selfies in exotic places and accompanying the image with some sort of spiritual #blessed comment, in which underneath people can leave messages of encouragement and praise.

But for a few hours yesterday, all of this ground to halt.

Health food instagrammers threw their green smoothies down the sink and went up to the 7 eleven to take advantage of the $1 Slurpee. Travel Instagrammers unpacked their backpacks in their childhood bedrooms, and asked their Mothers for a sandwich. Selfie Instagrammers put dow their phones and picked up their copy of Anna Karenina that they had not touched since 2010. Latte Artist Instagrammers made a Milo with 4 scoops.

Shiny, happy, grateful Mummy Instagrammers took a Xanax, yelled at their kids to shut up, lay on the couch and tuned on Dr. Phil. Fitness Instagrammers briefly stopped flogging their 28 day courses, breathed out and stuck their faces in a family sized packet of Twisties. Beauty Instagrammers threw their hands up in the air with glee and got their magnifying mirror, found a good spot in great light and got plucking and squeezing.

Ex Bachelorettes who have an Instagram account pulled their teeth whitening devices out of their mouths and replace it with an icy cold UDL.

Entrepreneurs suffered badly, for if they cannot talk about themselves and their ‘wins” in Instagram stories and how if you go to their seminar you too can live the authentic life you were born to live, well then what was the point of even getting out of bed?

Bikini Grammers cancelled their waxing appointments. Baking Grammers turned to oven off and reached into the back of the freezer to dig out the Sara-Lee Carrot Cake. Fashion Grammers reached for their track suit pants, that were gifted from Target.

And then there was the mid-forty, cynical, peri-menopausal, bitter, slightly sweaty, grumble, grumble get off my lawn old school blogger who lamented the fact that the opportunity was lost to share with her followers that she had managed to clear the couch of clean laundry, which had been fluffed and folded and put away.

Zuckerberg, sort your shit out. We all do important work. And if we cannot document it, how will we get the validation we require to continue?

What do you think of Instagram? Love or loathe?

 

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