Friday, January 27, 2012

The Post-Television Watched Syndrome

I lived my life around television for too much of my life.  It always astounds me how our culture uses popular media as a bridge building vernacular in everyday communication.  Whether it is wrong or right that our children and ourselves delve deeply into fantasy worlds of cardboard-like sets, one liners, action stars saving the day with duct tape and a PVC pipe, or little blue gnomes living in mushrooms, the fact is we often use the common ground we find in what we have watched to jump start communication with the people around us.

I know I am odd, but I don't think I am alone when I realize I mark the years by what movies I saw, or television I enjoyed, or music I was listening to.  I am proud that I saw the original three Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies when they first ran in the theaters.  I remember the year in school when the AMC started a $1.00 movie night during the week, and I saw every movie that came out that year, including Good Morning Vietnam, and four other movies, at least six times each.  I watched the series finale of MASH with my dad.  And I can make many a man cry by saying, "Mean Joe Green drinking Coke."

I am not making an argument for turning on the flat panel and letting the children vegetate, but I was noticing today, observing, how many times in my day the shows I watch, whether when I was a kid or with my kids, bond people in a way that the medium should not have that much power to do, and you are reading this posted by someone who is in the entertainment field.

It is stupid to write a journal entry about something as insignificant as the fact that most of the people we know watch a lot of TV, but bear with me.
I mentioned Blue Clues on Facebook and friends (who I dearly miss) tale time to comment and share.  Think about these memories, if you can, for a second:  Mister Rogers, Electric Company, Superfriends, Spiderman and his Amazing Friends, Yogi Bear, The Simpsons, The Cosby Show, I Love Lucy, I Spy, Hawaii Five-O, Different Strokes, The X-Files, Bugs Bunny, Star Trek (all of them):  They all have some special memory for me I have shared in conversation with strangers and friends as a common point of reference.   They also bring back amazing memories as I wrote them down.

So many memories, I feel like Mike TeeVee and the Oompa Loompas are doing vocal warm ups under the kitchen sink.

First Day bled into First Night now First Midnight

I made a promise to myself to begin, today, in making sure I write something here each day.  I am sharing my journey not so much in thinking that I am entertaining enough for you to want to read this, but more to keep me honest in the things I say and the things I am doing.  Some of the posts will be silly or foolish.  Some may not be.  Thank you for reading this far.

It is after midnight, after a long day, after a night with little sleep, and I am making sure I write something here.

If I were to tell the truth, which there is no reason not to do so, the surreal feeling I have with exhaustion, the slight (or not so slight ringing in my ears), and the feeling like my head is a large lump of tofu ready to bounce off my shoulder and break apart into bread-like chunks is very much like the feeling I had when I smoked my first cigarette.  I started when I was 17 and smoked until I was 33, and most of that was a two pack a day habit.  I am glad to say I have been nicotine clean since then, and loving it.  But, yes, the feeling of this exhaustion is not unlike that light headed high you get from the first smoke. It is both disgusting and euphoric.

There is a moment in this type of exhaustion when you sit and listen past the ringing, and you think, just for a moment, that the veil of reality is gossamer thin and you can just glimpse the movements of the cogs of reality.  You think that just a moment that the logic and motion and beauty of the universe is about to coalesce before you.  Then, nothing.  The dog barks, the wind blows, your wife laughs at some inane website from the other side of the room, and the feeling is gone and you just have to go to bed.

I am so fortunate to have her in my life.  I know all things happen for a reason and in their own time.  She was definitely worth the wait.


Good night.

Two footnotes on the video montage:  the music is James Taylor and I do know I misspelled a word in it.  I hope you like the photography and music as much as I do.