"Dude, I just got the 12th generation Nano!" "Oh yeah? Well check out my new 1,000 inch plasma television!"
Americans like their electronics. We've got iPods and laptops, Kindles, Nooks and Wiis. Let's not even start on Americans and their cell phones. It seems like Apple releases a new invention every day, and everybody and their mother rushes out to buy four of it. Why are we so obsessed with having the newest, the fastest, the smallest or the biggest?
Really, it's like running a race that can never be won. For instance, the last time I got a new cell phone, I thought it was so cool. It was a newer version of a phone that was already sweet to begin with, and it was cute as well as functional. I looked so good with my new phone... for about a month. Then, one of my friend's plans went up, and she got a new phone. Hers was way cooler than mine! How could a month have made that much difference?
The same thing happened to me with my laptop. My brother works in IT, so he knows his stuff when it comes to computers. He picked out an awesome laptop for me, and assured me that it was the fastest, the lightest, the sleekest and had the most capabilities. I've barely had it two years, but compared to the laptops of all of this year's freshmen, mine looks like a clunky invention from the Stone Age.
Americans never seem to be happy unless they've got whatever's newest. It doesn't matter if what we already have works perfectly well- there's something else that will be better. Or, it may work great, but then there's something that looks cuter, and hey, we're all about the cute factor.
Really, the way we love new toys is a sign of our rampant consumerism. We will always spend money on the new thing, just because it's new. And if it's nice to look at, we'll easily be suckered in- materialism at its best. It's almost sickening; buying the newest thing is like a bad habit we can't kick. But what's the big draw behind always trying to beat out your friends, family and coworkers to have whatever was just put on the market?
We should really just learn to be happy with what we have. It's way easier said than done, but maybe we would all be a little happier if we stopped worrying about beating everyone else to the latest and greatest toy. After all, this isn't Jingle All the Way, is it?
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Good Eats
When PBS asked viewers to describe America in three words, the most popular terms were fat, free and rich. Free? Yes we are (for the most part, anyway). Rich? That's debatable... but compared to most countries, yes we are. Fat? Most definitely.
Americans clearly have an obsession with food. We like our food fast, and we like it big. Think about the average fast food menu: most of the items begin with the word "double." At Perkins we can order "Mammoth Muffins," and at Olive Garden there is almost always a special having to do with "never-ending" salad or pasta. We even have king-size candy bars, because regular candy bars are apparently just not enough.
Why are we so obsessed with food? Clearly, we get enough of it. It's so important to us that it be accessible that we have even invented ways to make almost anything portable- hence the food-on-a-stick tradition so prevalent at state fairs. We buy in bulk so we never run out of what we want to eat, and stores give us free samples to encourage us to buy more than what's on our grocery list. We have entire T.V. channels devoted to food, and reality television shows dedicated to cooking the best or eating the most.
I will admit, I'm an offender too. I love my Double-Stuf Oreos and $5 footlongs as much as the next American (although I do eat the sub in two parts). Part of our obsession comes from the way we've been raised- we do, for the most part, live in a culture of excess. But why do we tend to buy everything in packages of three, when we only end up throwing two out because they expired or got freezer-burned? You'd think we'd learn to only take what we need, but instead we have a mindset that is always saying, "Take more! Take more!"
I'm not sure why we are so food-obsessed. It may be that we tend to abuse it because our access to it is so easy- I'm sure starving people in third-world countries don't stuff their food down like Americans do. I'm also sure they are far less likely to complain if their steak isn't cooked to order, or if their pancakes are a little burned.
I've heard that the problem with starvation in the world isn't caused by lack of food, but by improper distribution. Perhaps if we were less concerned with how long it will be until our pizza arrives, and focused more on helping supply the basic nutritional needs of needy people around the world, we would be less obsessed with our food, and more appreciative of it.
Americans clearly have an obsession with food. We like our food fast, and we like it big. Think about the average fast food menu: most of the items begin with the word "double." At Perkins we can order "Mammoth Muffins," and at Olive Garden there is almost always a special having to do with "never-ending" salad or pasta. We even have king-size candy bars, because regular candy bars are apparently just not enough.
Why are we so obsessed with food? Clearly, we get enough of it. It's so important to us that it be accessible that we have even invented ways to make almost anything portable- hence the food-on-a-stick tradition so prevalent at state fairs. We buy in bulk so we never run out of what we want to eat, and stores give us free samples to encourage us to buy more than what's on our grocery list. We have entire T.V. channels devoted to food, and reality television shows dedicated to cooking the best or eating the most.
I will admit, I'm an offender too. I love my Double-Stuf Oreos and $5 footlongs as much as the next American (although I do eat the sub in two parts). Part of our obsession comes from the way we've been raised- we do, for the most part, live in a culture of excess. But why do we tend to buy everything in packages of three, when we only end up throwing two out because they expired or got freezer-burned? You'd think we'd learn to only take what we need, but instead we have a mindset that is always saying, "Take more! Take more!"
I'm not sure why we are so food-obsessed. It may be that we tend to abuse it because our access to it is so easy- I'm sure starving people in third-world countries don't stuff their food down like Americans do. I'm also sure they are far less likely to complain if their steak isn't cooked to order, or if their pancakes are a little burned.
I've heard that the problem with starvation in the world isn't caused by lack of food, but by improper distribution. Perhaps if we were less concerned with how long it will be until our pizza arrives, and focused more on helping supply the basic nutritional needs of needy people around the world, we would be less obsessed with our food, and more appreciative of it.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Professional Sports
If there's something I don't understand about Americans, it's our idolization of professional athletes. It seems like whenever I log onto Facebook and check out some of my friend's profiles, all I see are pictures of them sporting signs that say, "Mauer is my man!" or "I'll be the beauty and Jared Allen can be my beast!" I don't even have to watch a game to know how it's going- I can just go to my homepage and look over the latest status updates that show up.
I understand that when someone is really good at what they do, they will make our teams win, and we like that. What I don't understand is how we can pay them millions and millions of dollars to do it. Yes, we live in a culture where people are paid according to how well they do their job. No, we do not have a stable economy and such a low poverty rate that we can justify giving ONE PERSON that much money.
Take Joe Mauer, for instance. I hate to pick on him, because I know he's some heartthrob and hometown hero, but last winter the guy signed an eight-year contract worth $184 MILLION DOLLARS. And let's not even start on his McDonald's cups or Kemps commercials. Mauer has become the face of Minnesota, and while it's not a bad face to look at, I don't think it's a $184 million dollar face (no offense, man).
I just don't understand how we can justify the amount of money we spend on professional sports in the U.S. Besides building new stadiums and signing outrageously extravagant contracts, we also spend tons to watch the sports. We buy season tickets and jerseys, and we sign up for TiVo in case we miss the game (God forbid). We throw parties with our friends, and pay tons of money to go to meet-and-greets. What I blogged earlier about celebrity couples is also true here- they are just people. Yes, they are really, really good at what they do, but who is walking around with 'Bill Gates' on the back of a jersey? Yes, they are doing good things for our self-esteem and group identity, but I, for one, think the All-State guy deserves a little more credit than we're giving him.
I love professional sports, don't get me wrong. I may not be one of the girls arguing with her roommates about the pros and cons of Favre, but I appreciate a good "what-used-to-be-a-Dome-Dog" all the same. I just don't think that because I want to watch a good game on a Sunday afternoon means that Adrian Peterson should get $40.5 million dollars for it.
I understand that when someone is really good at what they do, they will make our teams win, and we like that. What I don't understand is how we can pay them millions and millions of dollars to do it. Yes, we live in a culture where people are paid according to how well they do their job. No, we do not have a stable economy and such a low poverty rate that we can justify giving ONE PERSON that much money.
Take Joe Mauer, for instance. I hate to pick on him, because I know he's some heartthrob and hometown hero, but last winter the guy signed an eight-year contract worth $184 MILLION DOLLARS. And let's not even start on his McDonald's cups or Kemps commercials. Mauer has become the face of Minnesota, and while it's not a bad face to look at, I don't think it's a $184 million dollar face (no offense, man).
I just don't understand how we can justify the amount of money we spend on professional sports in the U.S. Besides building new stadiums and signing outrageously extravagant contracts, we also spend tons to watch the sports. We buy season tickets and jerseys, and we sign up for TiVo in case we miss the game (God forbid). We throw parties with our friends, and pay tons of money to go to meet-and-greets. What I blogged earlier about celebrity couples is also true here- they are just people. Yes, they are really, really good at what they do, but who is walking around with 'Bill Gates' on the back of a jersey? Yes, they are doing good things for our self-esteem and group identity, but I, for one, think the All-State guy deserves a little more credit than we're giving him.
I love professional sports, don't get me wrong. I may not be one of the girls arguing with her roommates about the pros and cons of Favre, but I appreciate a good "what-used-to-be-a-Dome-Dog" all the same. I just don't think that because I want to watch a good game on a Sunday afternoon means that Adrian Peterson should get $40.5 million dollars for it.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Books
According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average American spends about 28 hours per week watching television. When they aren't watching TV, they spend 5-6 hours working out, or nearly an hour socializing with friends. What doesn't factor into the equation of work and fun? Reading.
Books are antiquities in American culture today. We collect old, pretty ones to put on our shelves, and we occasionally give them as presents. For the most part, books serve only to adorn our coffee tables... not to expand our minds.
Between Facebook and TiVo, our leisure time is pretty much filled up. We can easily waste hours mindlessly flipping channels or perusing Perez Hilton's latest updates on celebrity goings-on. What we don't do anymore is reach for a book to escape into. What has changed that has caused us to shy away from books? Is it our ever-growing list of learning disabilities that keeps us from wanting to try a book? Is it the fact that reading is one activity in which it is very hard to multitask? Or is it simply a lack of good material?
In my opinion, the answer is all three. Nearly four million kids and teens in America have learning disabilities, most of which involve reading and writing skills. In our culture, if something is hard, we choose not to do it. Therefore, if someone has a disability that inhibits their ability to understand a book, they simply choose not to read it. Why waste that time?
We live in a society where people always need to be doing three things at once. While our child is at dance class, we are on the phone with our best friend making coffee plans, and simultaneously emailing our latest design to our boss. We watch TV while eating dinner, and we blog as we wait for our nails to dry. But when it comes to books, it's just not possible to do that many things at once. When it comes to books, and novels especially, significant concentration is required to follow the storyline. That limits what we can and can't do while reading... which aggravates most of us to the point of giving up. After all, time is money in America, and reading a book won't help us reach anything but a better understanding of how creepy Stephen King's mind is.
Lastly, even if we were to read more, what would we read? One of the eight million Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich? Or perhaps the latest celebrity biography... My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler. It's no wonder people aren't interested in reading- there's nothing good out there! But what about returning to the classics: Little Women, The Catcher in the Rye, 1984. There are plenty of good books out there; our I-want-everything-handed-to-me-on-a-silver-platter society just needs to learn to look a little harder.
America would be a vastly different place if we were more interested in books and less fascinated by which celebrity got liposuction this week. There's something so romantic about books... they have friends you can always return to, memories that will bring you straight back to the last time you read this tale. Americans are obsessed with interesting things these days, from food-on-a-stick to Kim Kardashian's... well, you know. Wouldn't it be great if we revived a long-lost American pastime? Sure, we've still got baseball, but what about the days when we played it with Roy Hobbs in The Natural, or stood on the field with Reuven Malter in The Chosen?
I wish we would see a reading revival in America... until then, excuse me while I go spend some quality time on the banks of Plum Creek with my good friend Laura.
Books are antiquities in American culture today. We collect old, pretty ones to put on our shelves, and we occasionally give them as presents. For the most part, books serve only to adorn our coffee tables... not to expand our minds.
Between Facebook and TiVo, our leisure time is pretty much filled up. We can easily waste hours mindlessly flipping channels or perusing Perez Hilton's latest updates on celebrity goings-on. What we don't do anymore is reach for a book to escape into. What has changed that has caused us to shy away from books? Is it our ever-growing list of learning disabilities that keeps us from wanting to try a book? Is it the fact that reading is one activity in which it is very hard to multitask? Or is it simply a lack of good material?
In my opinion, the answer is all three. Nearly four million kids and teens in America have learning disabilities, most of which involve reading and writing skills. In our culture, if something is hard, we choose not to do it. Therefore, if someone has a disability that inhibits their ability to understand a book, they simply choose not to read it. Why waste that time?
We live in a society where people always need to be doing three things at once. While our child is at dance class, we are on the phone with our best friend making coffee plans, and simultaneously emailing our latest design to our boss. We watch TV while eating dinner, and we blog as we wait for our nails to dry. But when it comes to books, it's just not possible to do that many things at once. When it comes to books, and novels especially, significant concentration is required to follow the storyline. That limits what we can and can't do while reading... which aggravates most of us to the point of giving up. After all, time is money in America, and reading a book won't help us reach anything but a better understanding of how creepy Stephen King's mind is.
Lastly, even if we were to read more, what would we read? One of the eight million Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich? Or perhaps the latest celebrity biography... My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler. It's no wonder people aren't interested in reading- there's nothing good out there! But what about returning to the classics: Little Women, The Catcher in the Rye, 1984. There are plenty of good books out there; our I-want-everything-handed-to-me-on-a-silver-platter society just needs to learn to look a little harder.
America would be a vastly different place if we were more interested in books and less fascinated by which celebrity got liposuction this week. There's something so romantic about books... they have friends you can always return to, memories that will bring you straight back to the last time you read this tale. Americans are obsessed with interesting things these days, from food-on-a-stick to Kim Kardashian's... well, you know. Wouldn't it be great if we revived a long-lost American pastime? Sure, we've still got baseball, but what about the days when we played it with Roy Hobbs in The Natural, or stood on the field with Reuven Malter in The Chosen?
I wish we would see a reading revival in America... until then, excuse me while I go spend some quality time on the banks of Plum Creek with my good friend Laura.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Good Music
My mom loves the oldies station on the radio. She is all about LOVE 105 when we're driving in the car, and ever since she discovered "Saturday Night at the Seventies" on 102.9 LITE FM, we've had to endure her groovy dance moves all night long. As a result, I've grown up with a great appreciation for '60s and '70s music, from Carole King to the Osmonds, from John Denver to Earth, Wind and Fire.
There's something about the music of that era that makes it timeless. Sure, Michael Jackson grew up to be the "King of Pop," but his start as the adorable frontman for the Jackson Five is what rocketed him to fame later in life. The Bee Gees' hit "Stayin' Alive" was named #3 of the Top Ten Singles of 1978, and it has managed to stay alive since the day it hit the airwaves over 30 years ago.
When my parents refuse to switch the dial to KDWB, and my brother and I absolutely can't take any more Christian talk radio, a station like KOOL 108 is the happy medium for all of us. What is it about this music that makes it so multi-generational? I think it has a lot to do with its simplicity.
While quite a few '70s musicians may have been experimenting with drugs, drug references almost never made it into their lyrics. What a far cry from today, when it is commonplace for rappers to write lyrics about "lightin' up a blunt" (ahem, Lil Wayne). And even thought Elton John's sexuality was a much-discussed topic in the late '70s and early '80s, never did the details end up in a pointless pop anthem (thanks, Katy Perry, for that useless info on your personal experimentation). No, the lyrics of the '70s were much more (dare I say it) wholesome. Simple, classic topics were put to simple, classic music- without the help of auto-tune (sorry T-Payne).
When I listen to my parents' music 30 years after it first debuted, it makes me wonder- will my kids ever listen to what I grew up hearing on the radio? Will boxed sets from my growing-up decade ever be sold on T.V. telethons? My suspicion is, no.
Why is America obsessed with music in an era where it only stays popular for a short amount of time? Today, when a "great" song comes out, I like it for roughly a month. I hear it on every radio station, I make it my ringtone on my cell phone, it gets used in a commercial, and then I see its popularity on iTunes start to slip. After a while, it completely fades away. A year later, it might come up on shuffle on my iPod, and I think to myself, "Oh, I used to love this song!" But if it hadn't accidentally been stumbled upon, I would have been perfectly fine going another year without hearing it. Perhaps today's artists need to stop trying so hard to reinvent the wheel, and take a page out of the sheet music of musicians who have stood the test of time.
Today's music doesn't have the staying power of the hits of the 1970s. I will admit, there are some songs I never care to hear again (think "Muskrat Love" or "Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown"), but by and large the music of the '70s is the definition of classic.
Someday, it will be fun to reminisce with my friends about the days when we argued endlessly over the Backstreet Boys vs. N*Sync. We will randomly hear a Shania Twain song and think to ourselves, "Man, I used to play that over and over!" But then, after laughing over thirty seconds of "That Don't Impress Me Much," I know I will reach out and switch the dial back to the oldies station, and transform into a "daaaancing quueeeen..."
There's something about the music of that era that makes it timeless. Sure, Michael Jackson grew up to be the "King of Pop," but his start as the adorable frontman for the Jackson Five is what rocketed him to fame later in life. The Bee Gees' hit "Stayin' Alive" was named #3 of the Top Ten Singles of 1978, and it has managed to stay alive since the day it hit the airwaves over 30 years ago.
When my parents refuse to switch the dial to KDWB, and my brother and I absolutely can't take any more Christian talk radio, a station like KOOL 108 is the happy medium for all of us. What is it about this music that makes it so multi-generational? I think it has a lot to do with its simplicity.
While quite a few '70s musicians may have been experimenting with drugs, drug references almost never made it into their lyrics. What a far cry from today, when it is commonplace for rappers to write lyrics about "lightin' up a blunt" (ahem, Lil Wayne). And even thought Elton John's sexuality was a much-discussed topic in the late '70s and early '80s, never did the details end up in a pointless pop anthem (thanks, Katy Perry, for that useless info on your personal experimentation). No, the lyrics of the '70s were much more (dare I say it) wholesome. Simple, classic topics were put to simple, classic music- without the help of auto-tune (sorry T-Payne).
When I listen to my parents' music 30 years after it first debuted, it makes me wonder- will my kids ever listen to what I grew up hearing on the radio? Will boxed sets from my growing-up decade ever be sold on T.V. telethons? My suspicion is, no.
Why is America obsessed with music in an era where it only stays popular for a short amount of time? Today, when a "great" song comes out, I like it for roughly a month. I hear it on every radio station, I make it my ringtone on my cell phone, it gets used in a commercial, and then I see its popularity on iTunes start to slip. After a while, it completely fades away. A year later, it might come up on shuffle on my iPod, and I think to myself, "Oh, I used to love this song!" But if it hadn't accidentally been stumbled upon, I would have been perfectly fine going another year without hearing it. Perhaps today's artists need to stop trying so hard to reinvent the wheel, and take a page out of the sheet music of musicians who have stood the test of time.
Today's music doesn't have the staying power of the hits of the 1970s. I will admit, there are some songs I never care to hear again (think "Muskrat Love" or "Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown"), but by and large the music of the '70s is the definition of classic.
Someday, it will be fun to reminisce with my friends about the days when we argued endlessly over the Backstreet Boys vs. N*Sync. We will randomly hear a Shania Twain song and think to ourselves, "Man, I used to play that over and over!" But then, after laughing over thirty seconds of "That Don't Impress Me Much," I know I will reach out and switch the dial back to the oldies station, and transform into a "daaaancing quueeeen..."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Celebrity Couples
For as long as I can remember, Americans have been obsessed with celebrity relationships. At the end of each checkout lane at the grocery store, at least half of the magazine covers scream "So-and-so Caught Cheating!" or "(insert Famous Couple here) Are Over!" Rarely does an evening go by where Entertainment Tonight doesn't have new, juicy details to share on some celebrity pair. Even the radio is about more than music now- during drive time, most show hosts love discussing the latest Hollywood love affairs.
Why is America so obsessed with the love lives of the stars? They are, after all, just people. Yes, they may make millions of dollars, walk down red carpets, and carry around tiny, expensive dogs... but in the end, they are still just people. Why do we care if Brad and Angelina went to the gas station? And why is it necessary to assume their love is doomed just because they were not holding hands as they grocery shopped?
The degree to which we find ourselves hooked on the Hollywood elite says a lot about how we use our free time and what we find entertaining. It's very easy to get sucked in to the Daily 10 when flipping through the channels after dinner. But after a few minutes of hearing who Taylor Swift wrote her latest bitter love song about, it should be time to change the channel.
Ultimately, if this sort of news is what people find entertaining, that's their choice. However, it's important to be aware of how our fascination with celebrity love is perpetuating an ever-growing cycle of nosiness and loss of privacy. I've had discussions with friend about how horrible the paparazzi are, climbing into peoples' trees, forcing famous couples to hold top-secret weddings and carry their babies around with blankets over their heads. My friends shake their heads in disgust at these "lowlifes" who make their living in such a dishonest way. Yet minutes later, as we stroll through Target picking out new nail polishes, I see the same friends pick up the People magazine that pays the paparazzi they loathe so much.
It's hard to ignore the juicy gossip that bombards us from every side. In a world where the media is everywhere, trying to turn a blind eye to who had a kid with who and which actor broke up with which heiress can be nearly impossible. I don't know that we will ever see a day when celebrities are famous on-screen but allowed to live normal lives off-screen ( except for on Hannah Montana). But perhaps we could draw the line somewhere, remember that celebrities are people too, and stop being so interested in whether or not Jesse James and Sandra Bullock will ever get back together.
After all, romance is romance and people are people. So in the end, celebrity couples are only trying to find love... just like you and me.
Why is America so obsessed with the love lives of the stars? They are, after all, just people. Yes, they may make millions of dollars, walk down red carpets, and carry around tiny, expensive dogs... but in the end, they are still just people. Why do we care if Brad and Angelina went to the gas station? And why is it necessary to assume their love is doomed just because they were not holding hands as they grocery shopped?
The degree to which we find ourselves hooked on the Hollywood elite says a lot about how we use our free time and what we find entertaining. It's very easy to get sucked in to the Daily 10 when flipping through the channels after dinner. But after a few minutes of hearing who Taylor Swift wrote her latest bitter love song about, it should be time to change the channel.
Ultimately, if this sort of news is what people find entertaining, that's their choice. However, it's important to be aware of how our fascination with celebrity love is perpetuating an ever-growing cycle of nosiness and loss of privacy. I've had discussions with friend about how horrible the paparazzi are, climbing into peoples' trees, forcing famous couples to hold top-secret weddings and carry their babies around with blankets over their heads. My friends shake their heads in disgust at these "lowlifes" who make their living in such a dishonest way. Yet minutes later, as we stroll through Target picking out new nail polishes, I see the same friends pick up the People magazine that pays the paparazzi they loathe so much.
It's hard to ignore the juicy gossip that bombards us from every side. In a world where the media is everywhere, trying to turn a blind eye to who had a kid with who and which actor broke up with which heiress can be nearly impossible. I don't know that we will ever see a day when celebrities are famous on-screen but allowed to live normal lives off-screen ( except for on Hannah Montana). But perhaps we could draw the line somewhere, remember that celebrities are people too, and stop being so interested in whether or not Jesse James and Sandra Bullock will ever get back together.
After all, romance is romance and people are people. So in the end, celebrity couples are only trying to find love... just like you and me.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Reality Televison
"Everything's about to change now, because... I'm pregnant." I hate to admit it, but this punchy little sentence suckered me into a deep, inescapable addiction to one of MTV's latest hit shows, 16 and Pregnant.
I honestly don't know how it happened. For my entire life, I have turned my nose up in disgust, scoffing at my friends who traded their social time for a "shocking" new episode of Survivor or Big Brother. I never understood how watching people eat, sleep, and make out, or make utter fools of themselves for a chance at big bucks, could be interesting enough to take up an hour of prime time and draw in half a million viewers. Yet somehow, over the course of eighteen years (when America was first introduced to The Real World), our nation has become completely addicted to living vicariously through personalities on a screen... and I have joined the masses.
The worst part is, I don't know what to be more embarrassed about: being addicted to reality TV (which therefore shows I have no life), or steadfastly avoiding reality TV (which automatically makes me a cultural outcast). I managed to avoid being completely drawn into our media-centered culture for most of my life, due largely to the fact that I lived in a household without Internet for the first eighteen years of my life. Then college happened. Facebook statuses discussing what happened last night on America's Got Talent... clusters of girls grouped around laptops breathlessly waiting to find out who Joe Millionaire was going to fall in love with... it was everywhere. Before I knew it, I too was catching up on last night's episode online, and griping the next day about how scripted The Hills was becoming.
Having come to terms with the fact that I have one little guilty pleasure, I've managed to justify my love for 16 and Pregnant (and its sequel, Teen Mom) by assuring myself that this type of reality television is educational, because it documents the real struggles of real people living real lives.
Is it bad that I secretly hope Maci and Ryan get back together? Is it a waste of my time to wonder if Farrah's mother is done with community service yet, or if Catelynn's mom will ever get over her giving up Carly for adoption? There's a good chance that my time could be better spent watching the Food Network and learning how to cook, or shutting off the TV altogether and opening a book. But if I don't at least know who's on this season of Dancing with the Stars, or if I don't have a vague idea of who got a rose on The Bachelor last night, then I will have nothing to talk about with my friends... which will lead to having no friends (well, maybe that's an exaggeration).
Isn't it peculiar that we need strangers to tie us to our friends?
I honestly don't know how it happened. For my entire life, I have turned my nose up in disgust, scoffing at my friends who traded their social time for a "shocking" new episode of Survivor or Big Brother. I never understood how watching people eat, sleep, and make out, or make utter fools of themselves for a chance at big bucks, could be interesting enough to take up an hour of prime time and draw in half a million viewers. Yet somehow, over the course of eighteen years (when America was first introduced to The Real World), our nation has become completely addicted to living vicariously through personalities on a screen... and I have joined the masses.
The worst part is, I don't know what to be more embarrassed about: being addicted to reality TV (which therefore shows I have no life), or steadfastly avoiding reality TV (which automatically makes me a cultural outcast). I managed to avoid being completely drawn into our media-centered culture for most of my life, due largely to the fact that I lived in a household without Internet for the first eighteen years of my life. Then college happened. Facebook statuses discussing what happened last night on America's Got Talent... clusters of girls grouped around laptops breathlessly waiting to find out who Joe Millionaire was going to fall in love with... it was everywhere. Before I knew it, I too was catching up on last night's episode online, and griping the next day about how scripted The Hills was becoming.
Having come to terms with the fact that I have one little guilty pleasure, I've managed to justify my love for 16 and Pregnant (and its sequel, Teen Mom) by assuring myself that this type of reality television is educational, because it documents the real struggles of real people living real lives.
Is it bad that I secretly hope Maci and Ryan get back together? Is it a waste of my time to wonder if Farrah's mother is done with community service yet, or if Catelynn's mom will ever get over her giving up Carly for adoption? There's a good chance that my time could be better spent watching the Food Network and learning how to cook, or shutting off the TV altogether and opening a book. But if I don't at least know who's on this season of Dancing with the Stars, or if I don't have a vague idea of who got a rose on The Bachelor last night, then I will have nothing to talk about with my friends... which will lead to having no friends (well, maybe that's an exaggeration).
Isn't it peculiar that we need strangers to tie us to our friends?
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