Things We Said

There are a lot of things that people don't like to admit. There are a decent number of things that people take for granted. Television is something that a lot of people take for granted, and few people want to admit it. I recently read a statistic that the number of homes with at least one television set had declined over the past year. This is interesting for a few reasons. For starters, this is the first time that percentage has dropped in 20 years. The two main reasons for this drop appear to be a struggling economy and availability of online content. Secondly, the drop was from 99 percent to 97 percent. That's such a small drop from such a large number that it barely counts.

These numbers, and the ability to watch tv shows without an actual television, mean it's safe to assume almost everyone you know is watching tv (in some capacity). If you're reading this (a small group of people), or are even someone who could conceivably read this (a larger group), you are aware of a wide range of shows, and probably watch at least some of them. So, if (almost) all of us are watching, and even the ones who aren't watching are getting it somewhere else, why are we so afraid of admitting it?

Casually ask a few people you know if, or how much, tv they watch, and the most common response you'll get is "I don't really watch much television", or something along those lines. There are two reasons for this, and the first answer is pretty simple. We've all been conditioned to believe that television somehow makes you less intelligent, and that admitting to watching it is equivalent to admitting that you're a fool with nothing better to do with your time. The second reason is a bit more complicated. We're all afraid of who we are. Not to come off as a pretentious a-hole (little chance of that, I'm guessing), but I'm not terribly satisfied with either explanation, but for different reasons.

Everyone seems to agree that film, at its highest levels, is an art form. I don't want to get into a discussion about how it stacks up against music or literature or the visual arts, so let's just call them all equal (since that conversation is mostly dominated by personal tastes anyway). So why is it that sitting in a theater for 2 hours is fine, but spending 60 minutes watching a television show is something to be embarrassed about? I realize that there are certainly shows out there that do nothing for the human mind, and I would have a hard time calling any reality tv show "art", but even that might be overly critical.

(Extended side-discussion no.1 of 2. When discussing reality tv, the first show to come to mind is "Jersey Shore". Everyone seems to be in complete agreement that this show is a train wreck, no one wants to admit to watching it, yet everyone knows by Friday morning what The Situation was doing Thursday night. In the interest of full disclosure, I watched the last season. Every week, my friends and I would get together and watch it while drinking and having side conversations and insulting the behavior of various characters. This season, we haven't gotten together as a group to watch it, I watched the first episode alone, was bored to tears within the first 20 minutes and haven't been back. I've heard it wasn't the best episode, so maybe I'll catch up eventually, but who knows. Anyway, no one, even hardcore fans of the show, would praise it for being a particularly good show or classy or smart, but does that mean it has no value? An apologist could make the case that the show is an interesting insight into the mind set of a certain section of American society, and how we--or at least that section of society--view, define, and value fame, success, and friendship. And I'm not sure those apologists would be wrong.)

If there is even some value to be found in reality tv, what does that mean for television operating in the upper tiers? Shows that are compelling, thoughtful, and intelligent? All art can change the way we look at the world or our lives. If I can watch a character develop in a film, and become completely engulfed in his or her story, and feel differently about myself (or at least part of myself) than I did before I watched the movie. Doesn't it stand to reason then, that a television series that can keep me coming back week after week and season after season is just as much of an accomplishment, if not more so?

We live in an interesting time for television. We have never had more options in terms of programming. Neither of these ideas are particularly new, and neither is what I'm about to say, but it's worth saying. This range of choices has been both positive and negative for the 97 percent of us still watching. Having so many options has led to lower ratings for tv shows, We'll never have another M*A*S*H moment (the finale drew the largest absolute audience, a record held until the 2010 Super Bowl, and it still holds the highest share of all time). There are too many other things to watch. And as the internet begins to pull away more viewers (or, more accurately, more tracked viewers), ratings will continue to drop. This makes it harder for networks to generate advertising revenue, which makes it harder to justify the expense of high quality programming.

The other side, however. is that these options have given us just that, options. Shows exist today that probably wouldn't have had a place in American homes even 20 years ago. My favorite show currently airing is Breaking Bad (discussion 2 coming), a show about a high school chemistry teacher who becomes a meth cook. It's violent and edgy, wouldn't been on tv a decade ago (or at least not before the advent of the TV Parental Guidelines, which have allowed shows to get away with far more than they used to), and it airs on AMC (it wouldn't be noteworthy if it aired on HBO, where the rules have always been different). Most cursing is allowed (in moderation) on basic cable, violence is becoming more graphic, almost any subject matter is acceptable, and even nudity was beginning to become somewhat tolerated until Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson ruined everything for everyone (if everyone else wants to exaggerate how bad it was, so can I). Modern television gives us access to at least the possibility of almost anything we could want from a television show.

(Extended side-discussion no.2 of 2. I've been trying to avoid writing anything about Breaking Bad simply because I've seen and read so much about it already that I don't want to copy something that has already been said, inadvertently or otherwise. That being said, given the topic of this post, I have to at least mention it. This show is amazing. It's easily my favorite show on tv right now, and I'm not sure I've ever seen a show that I would consider better. Creator Vince Gilligan has developed incredibly interesting and complex characters who are acted out superbly by the entire cast. It's hard to imagine anyone else performing better in any of the main roles, and even some of the not so main roles. Gilligan has stated many times in interviews that he wanted to create a show where the "fundamental drive was towards change" and one that took the protagonist and made him the antagonist. He's done this by constantly putting his characters in situations where they need to make moral choices. These situations never feel forced or contrived, but it gives the audience a chance to watch these characters change right before us, sometimes gradually, sometimes in the course of a single scene. This also points to the pacing of the show, something that gets commented on quite frequently, and sometimes very critically by fans. Whether or not this is the best show I've ever watched, I have no problem saying that it has the best pacing of any show I've ever seen. I think one of the reasons behind this {and why so many people get upset about it} is because it doesn't operate like any show I've seen before. There will be multiple episode stretches where the tension of a given situation builds, far longer than a typical drama and past what many would consider to be the breaking point, before resolution is given. And yet there are other times when actions and reactions happen immediately, before you're even given a chance to consider what is about to transpire and what it all means. I could go on for a while, but point is, if you're a fan of television and you're not watching this show, you're missing out.)

This era of television and all of it's options have given us some incredible shows, moments, and characters to let into our lives. I would rank Arrested Development among the best all-time comedies to air. Perhaps four of the best shows ever made have aired with the past 10 years (depending on who you ask, and I ask Chuck Klosterman, in a manner of speaking), The Wire, The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Mad Men. Aaron Sorkin gets criticized for being more style over substance and for bordering on pretentious and preachy(to put it kindly) but I think he makes some of the best dialogue to be found on television. (I also tend to love the characters on his shows, but this seems to be point of contention for his detractors).

Maybe everyone doesn't agree with me (?!), or maybe you don't think film is all that special as a medium for art. You might be right, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. If all of this is true, and tv is as diverse, smart, and compelling as it has ever been, then the belief that watching television is somehow bad for you mentally is a poor assumption. I'm not advocating spending hours in front of the device everyday, but enjoying it is nothing to be ashamed of. And that's where we get to the second reason people don't like to admit to watching tv.

People lie constantly. We tell little lies for almost any reason. Because it's easier than explaining the truth, because we think we have something to gain, and, more often than not, because we want to be seen as whatever it is we think we should be seen as. This may seem reductionist and cynical, but most people act in a way that is based on who they think they should be instead of who they actually are and what kind of person they want to be. This doesn't make anyone a bad person in itself, it just seems like a dangerous way to live your life and a good way to do things you don't actually want to do. I have spent a lot of time considering what kind of person I am, what kind of person I want to be, and why I do what I do. This doesn't make me better than anyone else, it just makes me (somewhat) self-aware. I do this mostly because I think about things too much. I may have mentioned this before, and if I did, it's because I think about things too much, and I think about that, too.

I was watching Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Aaron Sorkin's short lived show that takes place behind the scenes of a late-night sketch comedy show. There is a scene where Matthew Perry's character (Matt) asks his on-and-off girlfriend (Harriet) one thing she likes about the guy she is currently seeing. She replies that he is "easy". The obvious sexual joke is made, and then she explains that he is easy to be around, that his personality is easy, with the implication being that Matt is not. This is mostly because Matt can't understand Harriet's religious beliefs and questions them constantly, along with the motivations behind the actions of just about everyone he interacts with. (This is something a lot of Sorkin characters do, which might be one of the reasons I like his shows so much.)

When watching this, I came to realize that I'm not easy, either, and that I've actually pushed some people away from me by not being easy. I can't stand when someone assumes they know why I'm doing whatever it is I'm doing (usually because they don't have any idea why I'm doing what I'm doing) and will think nothing of questioning why someone says or does anything. Being someone who knows me isn't easy. I will question things you probably haven't questioned yourself. If you can't handle someone doing that to you, you probably wouldn't like me after a while. I suspect that all this actually does is make me incredibly annoying to be around for most people, but at this point, I kind of don't care. The reason I don't care is that, if I'm doing this to you, it's most likely because I value your thoughts and opinions in some way, and want to know more about whatever is we're/you're talking about or doing.

I know it seems ridiculous to admit and revel in doing something annoying and sometimes troubling to people I like and care about. But I like who I am (at least this part of who I am), and I want to know who you are, and I want you to know who you are. And if that's troubling to you and you need time to think about it, that's fine. I'll be watching tv.

The Downward Spiral

I have heard my favorite album. Contrary to what you might be thinking based on the title of this post, that album is not by Nine Inch Nails. I could tell you what album it is, and perhaps someone reading this might know me well enough to guess, but that would lead to a discussion about that album. Certainly, I could make my case for why I think this is the best album ever made (although I'm not even sure I feel that way; favorite and best are not the same thing), but "best" is really just a measure of "good", and what the hell does that mean, anyway? No, my point is that, at 28, music (in all likelihood) has peaked for me. And while I'm not sure exactly what that means yet, I know it means something.

For starters, let me clarify a few details about why this album (which will be referred to as "Album X" henceforth) is my favorite album. Album X came out in my lifetime, which is an important distinction. The Beatles made some great albums, and some of those I might consider to be the "best" album ever made, but my (and probably most peoples') favorite album is about more than just being the best. It's about how an album strikes you when you first hear it, which itself is dependent on a number of factors. When Album X came out, I was living with someone at the time. We had been together for a few years and were living in my parents house. We had recently moved out of the house we had been living in but hadn't found a new place to live yet. I listened to Album X the first time, shortly before we went to bed. I played it on her computer while she was already lying down. I'll never forget how much she seemed to enjoy watching me enjoy it. These are the sorts of little things that can't be recreated on further listens or another album.

Album X's genre is somewhat unimportant as well (my favorite style of music vs. your favorite style of music is irrelevant in this scenario), but even within a given form, there are still times when music can surprise you. Album X was (and still is in someways) the only music I had ever heard that sounded the way it did. This may seem like an absurd or nonsensical statement, but think about the first time you discovered a particular band or type of music. That feeling of having a door opened that you didn't even know was there. That door can never be closed, which is a good thing, but that also means you can never open it again.

This isn't to say that I will never be surprised by a new album, but I have serious doubts that I will ever be surprised in that way ever again. While the internet age has made it easier to find more and better music than we used to have access to, it also means that there is a smaller chance of finding some new thing that completely shifts your understanding of music. Sure, there are new bands posting videos of themselves right now that I will never hear but would possibly love. But with such a large pool of styles available to us, what are the chances that band would sound unlike anything we have ever heard before?

I don't want to sound like someone's dad. As I mentioned, I still find new music that I like. I think there is potential for great music in the future, and even think that maybe (a big maybe, but maybe) their might be good music on popular radio again one day. But I don't think I'll ever have a better album experience than the one I had listening to Album X. And that is a strange realization.

It's not necessarily a bad thing. Realizing how much something means to you is a good thing. It's possible that this doesn't actually change anything for me at all. If I still seek new music and enjoy music (in general) as much as I used to, what's different? This is the sort of understanding that can make me feel old, but it doesn't actually change anything about my physical age. So if I don't act any differently, and nothing has actually, physically changed as a result of this, then it would seem to reason out that I shouldn't feel any differently at all. But I do.

Maybe it's because, like all milestones in life, it represents a sort of end. An end of possibility. As soon as we are old enough to be aware of the future, we consider the assorted events and experiences life has in store for us. Even though we are always moving towards fewer and fewer of these possibilities, we aren't always aware of it. And even if we stop and think about it, we don't often feel it. This makes me feel it. Which isn't to say that I feel like I'm closer to "the end", or that feel I have fewer possibilities now than I did when I first heard Album X (even though that is true). It simply means that I'm aware of this event within my own life. And as strange as that is, I think I like it. At least now I know what I'm looking for, and not just in an album.