Why I don't like myself on T.V.

Not ON T.V. --- I mean ON, as in "on drugs".

In my lifetime, I've had several television loves, which have fulfilled different purposes and filled different holes as needed. My interests were chronically romantic --- it wouldn't matter what the show was about; if I was watching it, I was doing so for the relationships. While the Grey's Anatomy type shows which are all about relationships are good for a quick fix, I find I'm more drawn to the House type shows where all a gal can do is hope.

X-Files was my show of choice for years while in high school. My best friends and I shared an obsession, and really our obsession fueled our friendships. So in that way, it was good. In every other way, it was a waste of time.

I'm not against recreational TV watching, within limits (though as I'm starting to question the nature of our economy, I'm developing a philosophical beef with the entertainment industry which I haven't fully developed or internalized enough to change my own consumption. More on that will no doubt follow). But I AM against what it does to those of us who are prone to such obsession. Go on the Internet and hit any kind of comment board about a current hit show and you'll see it: thousands of people who if their passions were directed toward the real world could change everything, but instead who are settling for the lesser, vicarious thrill of ready-made adventure and drama.

My husband and I are going through the X-Files on DVD right now, and sometimes I catch those feelings coming back. I find it's not a big deal when watching completed series on DVD, because there's no week-long or summer waits to find out what's next, and when it's over, it's over. But with the X-Files movie now out I find myself not wanting to see it because when I do it will mean it's all over and there's no more hope for WHATEVER it is that the stupid show is fulfilling for me.

What would change in our world if the potential for vicarious living, through books, TV, movies and video games, was removed? Would we withdraw into the stupor of the mundane and kill ourselves with boredom? Or would the need in each of us to be a part of something exciting and meaningful force us to seek it out or create it in reality?