Organic Mutant

I had a brief, but most wonderful, conversation with my sister this morning, wherein I learned a little bit about the mischievous side of my wonderful nephew. On our call, my sister mentions to me that it must be harder for me to give up ms. teevee, being single and all. I know what she means. Teevee is a ‘companion’ of sorts. Xtina, having been in a long, happy marriage for nearly a decade now (!) has - like most people with a LTR - a built-in social structure. Someone with whom to share the trivialities of life, or to argue, or pontificate, or just snuggle.

Having been single for almost two years, I do not have such a built-in social, erm, network. I have to work for my nights of intimacy, or even just company. It takes effort - you gotta brush your teeth, maybe even shower, and quite possibly spend a bunch of money on food or drinks, to ensure that you and your date/friend/whatever have fun stuff to do together. Usually, you have to leave your house first, even if the whole aim is to get them back to your place.

But sitting home, now that is easy! Especially when your virtual friends with their exciting, edited existences are waiting to be played at your leisure. No need to go to the local cafe, or troll the bars, or volunteer. No. Just pour some chips in a bowl, open the dip, crack a beer, flip the switch, and - BLAU! - entertainment, emotional occupation, and virtual companionship.

The thing is, it’s all an illusion, man. Even the ‘real’ drama of, say Monday Night Football (an actual physical and psychological contest, I mean), is shrouded in hyped-up and melodramatacized versions of human narrative. Athletes become superhuman gods or demonized demons, depending on the announcer’s (or network’s) agenda that evening. Regardless of the format, even if all you watch is, say, National Geographic documentaries, the feed is still an illusion.

Of course, teevee is not alone: you can get wrapped up in romance novels, comic books, video games, blogs (oh no!), porn … whatever. Teevee is the most passive of all these mediums, but taken to an extreme, any of these ‘pursuits’ present the chance to curl in further upon one’s own life, eschewing the real experiences that are what life is truly made of, available to each and every one of us in the densely populated city where we now sit. The further into our little pretend worlds that we entrench ourselves, the more alone we feel.

But we are not alone. Even me - 33, single, and now without my old teevee - neither am I.