I broke up with my TV today. He is still in my living room, but for once he has nothing to say. My house is absolutely quiet. My TV and I go way back. To the days of the Shmoo, Little House on the Prairie and Mutual of Omahas Wild Kingdom. I was happy then with only 4 channels and and a black and white TV. At our house, Sunday nights were all about Walt Disneys Movie of the Week and The Walton's.
Fast forward 30+ years...my plasma TV filled with over 200 channels, plus 6 different HBO's and a DVR to make sure I didn't miss a second of it. What happened? How did I get to this place of being completely addicted? Is the outside world so unbearable that reality TV has replaced reality of living? How can that be?
So, just as I did when I quit smoking over 10 years ago, I have quit TV. Cold Turkey. OK...so I still have Netflix and Hulu...I dont plan on being a purist. My brain just needs an entertainment detox and admitting that one has a problem is the first step in conquering it.
So I returned my DVR to the cable company, came home and looked at the dark screen staring back at me. Its like the end of the Stephen King movie Christine. Once they kill her, she is no longer a jealous, insane she-devil, but an old crappy car in a junk yard. My TV no longer has any power over me. At least that the mantra I will be telling myself during this self intervention.
The Least I Can Do
1 week ago