Not
a single day goes by when I do not log on to my fan account on Twitter. I am
absolutely hooked to my Samsung tablet just like how one is addicted to coffee.
Unlimited scrolling, liking (used to be favoriting), and retweeting until my
eyes felt like they’re on flames.
This
led me to my dreadful doom: a curfew.
I’m
pretty sure all mothers would do anything to get their child out of danger,
even if it means to cage them inside their humble abode (or tower, in Rapunzel’s
case). My mother is one of them. Due to my addiction to Twitter, she decided to
take away my tablet when the clock strikes nine in the evening. Kid you not,
but I did feel my heart drop when she gave me this punishment.
And
so there I was, lazily spread out on the sofa still dressed in my school
uniform, savoring my time with my tablet, when I heard her voice from upstairs:
“Give me your gadget!” In just a snap of a finger, time was up.
I
proceeded to work on a group research project, which required me to use the
computer. Facebook became my bridge to communicate with my groupmates. Mother
decided to check up on me, and when she saw that I was still using the
Internet, she exploded like Anger on Inside Out.
She
became Gothel and I was Rapunzel. Well, without the singing involved, nor me
having the luscious golden locks that went on for miles. She told me that the
curfew lost its purpose if I was still going to use the computer. I defended my
side thoroughly. “Ma, I’m making a group project.”
“Then
why are you on Facebook?”
“Group
project. I’m talking to my groupmates, Ma. You can check for yourself.”
So
she did, and when she saw that I was in fact in the ‘Investigatory Project’
group chat, she allowed me to continue whatever I was doing.
Social
Media isn’t just for lazy scrolling, after all.
I
still have a curfew, though.
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