Television as Life

The last year has been worth shit for me.  Actually, saying it’s been for shit isn’t fair.  I guess I would describe the last year more acurately as a sort of purgatory.  Things haven’t gotten too good or too bad in a year.  Usually I’m okay not riding the rollercoaster.  But lately, the whole mediocrity has been wearing thin.

The real problem I think comes back to wanting things to be the way they were.  For being a geek, for as much as I love new things, I miss the way things were.  And I guess that’s not an unusual sentiment for any 30 year old, but I’m new to this 30 thing.  You need to give me some time to ruminate.

I have a very special connection to the show American Dreams – and NBC, please release s.2 & s.3 on DVD.  I was watching today and understood the father’s character in a way that I really hadn’t before.

The show revolves around a family from the 1960’s in Philadephia.  The first episode ends with the Kennedy assasination.  So as you can imagine, there’s some outside influences on their lives.  But the father, Jack Pryor, reminds me of myself in a very scary way.

I think of the sixties, and I tend to focus on the radicals, the people who fearlessly lead the political and social changes.  As much as I tend to hate hippies, and shit music like the Greatful Dead, I am fascinated by the rebel music from the 60’s.  I’m also fascinated by the political movements, and social change.  But for every Black Panther fighting for reform, there was a guy like Jack Pryor who kept getting pushed out of his comfort zone.  Not to say that he (or by association, I) are scared of political or social change, or even of militant blacks with leather jackets. 

What I’m trying to get at is this: The 80’s were better than the Today’s.  I knew what was coming in the 80’s.  I was comfortable, I was content.  And sometimes, usually when the Phillies won, I was happy.  But today, between friends, family and finances, sometimes I just don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

And being 30, single, and working night shift, I have this heartwrenching feeling that life is passing me by.  I’m sleeping away the greatest days of my life in order to put boxes of paper in trucks.

Purgatory.  And I’m not even Catholic.


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