"That's not a big problem. A big problem is like, well, if your butt fell off." -Joey Gladstone

“Oh, I don’t really watch TV.” It’s a phrase that I air almost weekly, to the fallen face of someone who has just wasted a show reference. But it hasn’t always been this way. Until age six, my bedtime each night was 8:30 PM, except on Tuesdays, when I got to sleep at 9. That’s the night Full House aired. I watched the show seated between my parents, silently wishing that I could be Michelle Tanner (except after her tragic horse-riding accident). Wedged between singing-lesson Monday and dance-class Wednesday, Tuesday brought me to a care-free place. No matter what happened that week or that day, I knew one thing to be true – a light was waiting to carry me home. For those thirty minutes, I was consumed by a world that I otherwise longed to be a part of.

When the series ended, I, a happy six-year-old, could not wrap my mind around it. “Why is there no Michelle today?” I would ask my mom between tears, on those quiet, post-series Tuesdays. I wondered what Michelle could possibly be doing that she couldn’t make her weekly appearance. For the rest of elementary school, I resorted to watching after-school reruns, commiserating the fact that my life was without Danny’s awkward life-lessons or Joey’s unfortunate screw-ups (remember when he broke Stephanie’s nose during a science experiment?). What I would have given for even a visit from Kimmy. By sixth grade, I could quote every episode and finally accepted that no matter how many times I watched it, I would never be able to resurrect the alternate world. I effectively stopped watching TV (we didn’t have cable and my parents didn’t let me watch Friends, the only show that my friends watched). 

Life picked up, and I spent precious evenings studying for tests and practicing piano (or dance or soccer or singing). I followed no other show, as it aired, from start to finish, and the only one to come close is The Office. I lost interest after Michael Scott’s departure.

Last Wednesday, I heard a commercial informing me that the Dunphys were returning with an hour-long season premiere at 9. Oh yeah, I forgot. What even happened at the end of last season? Modern Family is that show I watch online when Facebook gets boring. I got home at 8:30, which left me with the perfect amount of time to make dinner, sit down on the couch, and flip on the TV (full disclosure, it took me a few anxiety-ridden minutes to figure out how to operate our remote).

Watching the theme song, I was suddenly aware of the present and my powerless presence. The fact that there was nowhere I could go to find out what was going to happen. The fact that nothing I did would change what was going to happen. The show continued. I resisted the urge to check my phone during commercials, and fully committed myself to the experience. It was a rare, liberating hour for me. Come 10 PM, I was already looking forward to next Wednesday. It’s nice to find yourself anticipating some day that is not Saturday or Sunday. It's comforting to realize what will happen regardless of the unknowns between now and then, without any action on your part.

As I tucked myself into bed, I realized that my discarding television as a suitable use of time is mildly unfair. I also considered whether we are wrongly blaming TV for everything that is wrong with society – violence, obesity, and stupidity. If you really want to get technical, sitting in a classroom can be fatal, these days. When used correctly, television is quite educational. The right shows teach youth values like the importance of family and respecting others (cue end-of-episode Full House music) and following a select-few shows (read: not television binging) allows you to wholly practice the most taxing but crucial social skills: long-term commitment, empathy, loyalty, focus, and shared experience. Most importantly, television teaches us that all things eventually come to an end, and it’s up to us to adapt. Life is simply too short for reruns.

Working my way down a never-ending list of recommendations from friends, I’ve decided that it’s time again to have “a show." To reintroduce to my adult life, what I learned twenty years ago, that, no matter where life takes us, we will always need the predictability of evening TV.