I’ve entered a weird stage of my life.
No, no quarter life crisis. Yet.
But suddenly, I know when the shows I like are on television. I’m not talking some impromptu encounter with a “30 Rock” episode I missed three weeks ago—I’m talking premiere shit.
Before you JUDGE, I realize how pathetic this must sound. Which, in my mind, makes it ok for me to continue discussing what —for whatever reason — I feel at least merits a wee blog post.
This is literally the first time, in a long time, that I’ve consistently watched television, not to mention specific shows. It isn’t as if I suddenly have wads of time, completely foreign to the crazed-college me. Because I don’t, really. I’m busy, I swear. I think it’s just that my schedule is more consistent now —maybe with less social interruptions, but we won’t explore that— and after I get out of work, there is a pocket of time when I crave mental recess. And when I’m not scrambling to catch up on reading, all I want to do is watch other people trying to be funny.
I hate to admit that I’ve grown somewhat dependent on certain shows, but I have. For instance, tomorrow, I will be missing one of my favorite shows for a Pixies concert, which, is absolutely worth it, don’t get me wrong. No question. The Pixies! I haven’t completely lost touch with reality. But when I realized today that this was the case, I was a little crestfallen at the prospect of missing the new “Always Sunny in Philadelphia” episode. Yes, “crestfallen” is the most appropriate word here.
I’m not sure what this means. Am I getting old? Lazy? Or am I just another victim of the combo- lure of prime time and the couch? Maybe this isn’t even my fault. Maybe the hyper-ambition encouraged by higher education tuckered me out too soon? Is it America’s fault that I’m addicted to “Workaholics”? Probably.