Wednesday, December 15, 2004
The Revelation Will Be Televised
I think I may have too much free time on my hands. For one thing, in the past week I have found spare moments for both the construction of holiday crafts and the creation of some 120 Christmas cards. For another, I have recently adopted several new TV shows as my own, including at least a couple that I’m not even sure I actually like. (Is Boston Legal really appointment television for anyone? I feel like even Michelle Pfeiffer probably makes David E. Kelley turn it off.) But the most disturbing evidence of my idleness came on Sunday, when I found myself not only watching portions of a PBS telethon, but actually becoming emotionally impacted by it.
"I should really send them some money," I thought. "I mean, they draw the majority of their support from viewers like me."
But it just wasn’t the prospect of seeing This Old House bulldozed and Elmo having to do more than just tickle for his paycheck that choked me up.
"See, there are people doing good things with their lives," I thought. "What do you do that’s worth anything? And that America’s Next Top Model parody you wrote for the office Christmas party doesn’t count."
It was an excellent point. All too often in the past months (er, years) my life has consisted largely of activities like watching marathons of shows I’ve already seen five or six times, drinking substances that are chemically only a few molecules removed from turpentine, and buying pants. Which is not to say these activities are useless; at the very least, it’d be awfully drafty in here without pants. But I used to aspire to more. As early as four I proclaimed myself a novelist, and turned out missives with hot titles like "Sam the Dog" and the shocking familial expose "Meg the Person who Always Said No." In middle school I thought I might go into music, until I realized that those three chords were always pretty much going to be the three I knew how to combine. Heck, in high school I was even good at math. (I’m not sure that’s strictly relevant here, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have it on the record. I was also first chair viola and got the Best Project Award in my German Six class.)
Anyway, the point is that I’m going to seek more meaningful ways to spend my time. More reading, more writing, less Dr. Phil. More research, more charity stuff, fewer jello shots. But before I do anything else, I’m sending off that damn check to PBS.
I think I may have too much free time on my hands. For one thing, in the past week I have found spare moments for both the construction of holiday crafts and the creation of some 120 Christmas cards. For another, I have recently adopted several new TV shows as my own, including at least a couple that I’m not even sure I actually like. (Is Boston Legal really appointment television for anyone? I feel like even Michelle Pfeiffer probably makes David E. Kelley turn it off.) But the most disturbing evidence of my idleness came on Sunday, when I found myself not only watching portions of a PBS telethon, but actually becoming emotionally impacted by it.
"I should really send them some money," I thought. "I mean, they draw the majority of their support from viewers like me."
But it just wasn’t the prospect of seeing This Old House bulldozed and Elmo having to do more than just tickle for his paycheck that choked me up.
"See, there are people doing good things with their lives," I thought. "What do you do that’s worth anything? And that America’s Next Top Model parody you wrote for the office Christmas party doesn’t count."
It was an excellent point. All too often in the past months (er, years) my life has consisted largely of activities like watching marathons of shows I’ve already seen five or six times, drinking substances that are chemically only a few molecules removed from turpentine, and buying pants. Which is not to say these activities are useless; at the very least, it’d be awfully drafty in here without pants. But I used to aspire to more. As early as four I proclaimed myself a novelist, and turned out missives with hot titles like "Sam the Dog" and the shocking familial expose "Meg the Person who Always Said No." In middle school I thought I might go into music, until I realized that those three chords were always pretty much going to be the three I knew how to combine. Heck, in high school I was even good at math. (I’m not sure that’s strictly relevant here, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have it on the record. I was also first chair viola and got the Best Project Award in my German Six class.)
Anyway, the point is that I’m going to seek more meaningful ways to spend my time. More reading, more writing, less Dr. Phil. More research, more charity stuff, fewer jello shots. But before I do anything else, I’m sending off that damn check to PBS.
