Over the holidays I realized there was something missing in my life.
No, I'm not talking about that special someone, a place to spend Christmas Day or a good pair of winter boots – I have all of the above.
The void I'm referring to is cable television.
Since deciding to man up and move out of my parents' place in November, I've been without cable. My reasons for going sans cable are mixed, ranging from wanting to spend less time in front of a screen to procrastination to frugality. Perhaps I even feared I'd end up being stalked by a deranged cable installer like Matthew Broderick in the 1996 black comedy The Cable Guy.
But over the last few days I've hit a breaking point. A few nights ago a friend from journalism school made his debut on CBC's The National, which I couldn't watch. Meanwhile, HBO continues to pump out the best in television, and I miss it all. But the straw that broke the camel's back is the upcoming third season of Jersey Shore that I'm not going to be able to ridicule – and secretly enjoy.
The Western world is comprised of primarily two types of people: those with cable and those without it. Typically, the latter look down on the former for subscribing to such lowbrow entertainment, while those with cable pity the cableless for being out of touch with pop culture.
But I'm not your typical cableless Canadian. I don't scoff at television watchers – I envy them.
Subconsciously, I think I've put off getting cable because, deep down, I have a problem ¬¬– I'd just watch away my days and nights. I'd be too busy trying to follow the Kardashians to keep up with housework. I'd probably end up on one of favourite programs, Intervention, while my distraught family and friends urged me to give up my out-of-control television habit.
But with so much new programming flooding the channels, can I be blamed for loving TV? There are literally hundreds of stations – broadcasting sitcoms, news, sports, movies and, of course, reality shows – available for a reasonable monthly fee.
Cable has evolved a lot since my parents' childhood. I remember my mom telling me tales about watching one channel on her home's single television set. But, then again, it seems like everything from her childhood was singular – one TV with one channel, one pair of shoes, mass once a day, one radio station playing one band (the Beatles). The only thing kids from her youth seemed to have more than one of were siblings.
Perhaps if there weren't so many stations available today then I wouldn't be craving cable so badly.
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