Quarantined amidst (justifiable) coronavirus panic, I am one of the few who can still sit in a café with a cup of tea once a week and watch as passersby pick up their food in bulk. 1.5 meters away from the smallest sign of movement, alone at the closed bar of the Little Plant Pantry, I find it impossible to ignore the thought of other small businesses and how they will be affected by the crisis, some of their owners coming in to share their afflictions. Whereas corporations will lose money and stock value, smaller (local) companies might be forced to lay off their employees, and risk going out of business without fast and creative solutions.
It’s one of those expressions, thrown about flagrantly and sometimes only possible when accompanied by the rhythmic and ostentatious flick of a proud mother’s wrist. My son is off somewhere, finding himself. What the hell does that mean? Pottery classes in the hinterland and backpacking in Asia flood my catatonic brain. And though its connotations might at times be genuine, ‘finding yourself’ will always be romanticised, because the expression covets an unrealistic expectation of adventure, surprise, discovery, and ultimately, meaning.Lousy jobs but with fabulous coworkers, loosing yourself to the music, inspirational art courses, life-changing volunteer trips, motivational speaking, oh and so many TED talks and homemade-whatevers. All of it complete with song, laughter, new friendships, summer flings and one-time things. Bullshit
Basic Snitch takes Instagram
Basic Snitch now has an instagram account, so if you don’t like e-mails, you can head on over there instead! Bonus posts unrelated to articles might surface from time to time, that’s part of the deal! Posts will also be viewable on Basic Snitch’s story. Tune in for more.