TV Turnoff Essay

15.MAR.2001

This week marks the first anniversary of the elimination of television from my life. By this time last year I had just about had enough of TV, not so much because of the program content that so many complain about, but because of the hours that I wasted watching it. For years I had told myself that television was a waste of time, but the idea of completely removing it from my life always seemed ridiculous: What about my favorite shows? Although I had most recently managed to wean myself down to one over-the-air channel, I was still tuning in for nearly as much time as I did when I had a satellite dish. Turning on the television was nearly a reflex when I came home from work, or when it took more than a few minutes to think of something better to do on a Saturday morning.

The opportunity to cut the cord finally came when a friend and I decided to rent a house together. He had already stopped watching television a few years before, and although he would not have given me an option anyway, I gladly agreed to ban TV from our new place. When we moved in we put my television set in its own, obscure room (in too many homes the TV, like the fireplace of old, is the center of attention in the living room). I ceremoniously mangled the rabbit ears and threw them in the garbage. With only the VCR and DVD as inputs, the box has only been used as a monitor for watching occasional movies.

The first few weeks were admittedly difficult. It became painfully clear how much of an emotional crutch, a filler of empty space and a substitute for human interaction TV is for many of us. I felt real anxiety when I had to figure out what to do with myself upon arriving home in the evening. I listened to a lot of music, started reading some new books, played my bass guitar and sometimes just thought quietly. My friend and I would often engage in conversations that were infinitely more entertaining than any television show could be. As the weeks turned to months and the weather warmed up, outdoor activities filled the evenings and bedtime always seemed to come too soon.

Since last March, I have dropped 35 pounds of excess weight. I feel healthier and happier than any time since I started college in 1991 (and had my first access to cable). I have finally acted upon the political convictions that I used to only talk about and helped to found the Upper Chesapeake Green Party. I built a wooden kayak, learned how to repair a '68 Evinrude, refinished the wooden floor in my bedroom, began learning acoustic guitar, enrolled in a photography course, relearned HTML, and started sewing things for myself on a refurbished 1950's Singer. Right now my friends and I are planning a two-week shoestring trip to Turkey. Apparently, my transformation has come so far that I now spontaneously write essays like this one.

Despite one's best efforts, brief encounters with television are unavoidable in bars, stores and other peoples' homes. Now that I am no longer desensitized to the flickering tube, its power is, quite literally, glaringly obvious. My eyes are immediately drawn to the screen whenever I encounter it. Reflexive attraction turns to morbid curiosity, and after a sickening moment of observation I avert my eyes thinking, How did I ever tolerate this? My brief sorrow for the many hours that I wasted is dissolved by the satisfaction of knowing that I will never let it happen again.

Remarkably, without television I actually feel better informed about the world around me: not what new movies are playing, or what new electronic gadget will make my life better, but real issues like corporate control of presidential debates. I attribute this to being forced to seek out more varied and reliable sources of information, and having more time to investigate, experience and draw conclusions on my own. I think that is a lot better than getting your world view through the filter of weapons manufacturers like General Electric and Westinghouse (owners of NBC and CBS, respectively) and an "entertainment" conglomerate like Disney (ABC).

As I dramatically reduced my exposure to advertising, the desire to go out and buy new things nearly disappeared. These days, I am more likely to go without, find a used version of what I want or build something myself. Long gone are Saturday afternoons spent aimlessly driving around, looking for something to buy that would make me happier. Having awakened from the stupor of consumerism into which television beats us, I can finally recognize the effect it had on me. While I am now more sensitive to billboards, print ads and commercial radio, I am able to analyze them (T & A with a beer bottle; people with impossibly white teeth smoking cigarettes) rather than passively absorb them. They do not affect me in the way that their creators intended: I win.

To conclude, I cannot tell you how to live your life; I can only describe my own experiences. Your results, as they say, may vary. However, consider this: if you watch just an hour of TV every day, in a year you will have wasted the equivalent of nine 40-hour working weeks. In fifty years, you will have sold 18,250 hours (over two full years) of your life to the sponsors of your favorite shows. When I turn 78, I will be glad that I had that time for myself. So try to leave the television off for a week. Then, try a month. See what is out there through your own eyes, not from a flat facsimile. Believe me, you will not miss anything.

This was published in the Cecil Whig APR.5.2001

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