Cutting the CordEden Kennedy
I’ve spent the last two weeks packing and moving my family into a new place to live, but we still haven’t unpacked our TV. It’s sitting in a box in the garage. We’re planning to leave it there.
In a lot of ways it seems crazy to try to write on Babble about movies and TV without having access to a traditional movie-and-TV-watching device, but this momentous change has been coming for a while. I’d gotten to the point where I preferred silence to the background drone of whatever was on when my husband was home (sports). If someone turned on the TV while I was in the room being thoughtful and quiet (because I spend a lot of time being, if not all that thoughtful, at least pretty quiet) I would pack up and leave the room because suddenly it felt like the TV was YELLING AT ME.
My husband had been coming to a slow realization over the last few months that he’d been wasting thousands of hours of his life watching Lakers games — and Raiders games, and Yankees games, and let’s not forget golf, and of course there’s always a tennis tournament going on somewhere, and right after that there’s a bike race — when he could be painting or practicing his bass, two things he loves but never seems to have enough time for.
And of course we had every parent’s fear that [insert any cartoon delivery system] was turning our son’s brain into a tub of goo.
So we cut the cord.
We still have our laptops to stay connected with, but I have to say, the Internet has lost some of its luster for me these days as well. Blogging’s lost its thrill; my inbox is overflowing with pitches for diaper bag apps because inept marketers want to ruin everything; puppies and kittens are TALKING IN ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME; and it could be that I need to lay down and sleep for 36 hours before I find anything funny ever again because did I mention we just moved? And I don’t know where my checkbook is?
Our son complained about missing his favorite cartoons at first, but suddenly he’s finishing his homework on time. We turned off the yapping black hole of time-suck seven days ago, and we’ve had dinner together, facing each other instead of the TV, seven nights in a row.
I know there’s probably a rational way to fit a screen full of dramatically reconstructed stories of life and love into my life again someday, and most likely that will be the first sick day I spend catching up on The Daily Show in bed on my laptop thanks to Hulu Plus.
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“Television at PaÅ™íská street” photo by Medhi/Flickr.