For a long time, I refused to get a smartphone. But I caved. This post is being typed on an app. 

Years ago, before smartphones were being used by everyone and their grandmother, I untethered from Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and Tumblr.  

I just don’t have the personal discipline to manage social networks. I had two Facebook accounts, five Twitter handles, three Tumblr blogs – and they were eating up all my time. Reading the updates, posting my own. When I wasn’t online I was composing updates in my head. It was too much for me. Yes, the real mature adult is able to switch off. But I can’t. 

So, I quit it all. 

I actively rejected the idea of a smartphone. I see the people in restaurants, sitting across from each other, glued to their respective screens. I’d rather be with the people I’m with. 

My father was in a Facebook argument where the other party made a point about the immorality of television. My dad replied: “Here we agree. I got rid of my TV.”

“But what of the children? What do they watch?”

To which my dad replied: “That’s where I got the idea from.” The argument regressed into the guy trying to convince my dad to get a television again. My mom piped in: “Rather than watching TV, I take long walks with my dog, read good books, and engage in titillating conversations with my husband.”

This is what  I’m getting at. I’m scared of missing out on the moments with my friends, my husband, my son. 

And yet, it is because of my son that I now have a smartphone. I have to work full time. The teacher at his school sends me photos. 

And on this device, I can actually receive them. 

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