Turn the television off and your life on

Does television have more of an influence on your life than you'd care to admit? There is another way. Ode senior editor Marco Visscher discovered that life without television means a life with more... well, more life.

Marco Visscher | January 2004 issue

I don’t remember exactly when I decided to continue my life without television, but it happened shortly after I moved some three years ago. A friend came around and I gave him a tour, which ended in the living room. While we continued to babble about the inevitable topic of mortgages, he suddenly looked as if he had been struck by lightening. ‘Where’s your television?’ He turned, looking around anxiously. His eyes penetrated mine: ‘Don’t you have a television set?’

Of course I have a television. ‘There,’ I pointed to a boxy shape covered with a cloth, which I planned to replace, and two wine glasses perched on top of it. ‘There’s my television.’ My friend, an interior decorator, gasped for breath. He later told me that all his clients design their living rooms around the ideal location for the television set.

Not me. I had decided to drastically decrease my television time. Not that I was addicted (no one ever admits to being an addict), perhaps a ‘heavy user’. But I had become increasingly aware that I was often turning on the television in the evening out of boredom. Then, hours later, I would conclude that I was still bored. Even if I was really strict with myself and only watched the really good programmes (of which there are plenty), I still felt ill at ease. More than once I had resolved to spend less time in front of the ‘box’, but was never able to stick to it.

Then, inspired by a friend, who believes that the solution to traffic congestion is to give everyone a Citroën Deux Cheveaux (people would quickly get fed up with the car’s many inconveniences), I thought it was time to deam up a few hurdles to make it more difficult for myself to flip on the television. I decided it would be a real hassle if every time I wanted to watch a programme I had to first remove a bunch of knick knacks, fold up a cloth, lift the television onto the table and plug in the cables. Witness the birth of my television-table.

It worked. I gradually discovered that I was increasingly taking my life into my own hands. I had more time to do other things; which makes sense: after all, if it’s true that we watch an average of some three hours of television a day, not watching frees up a lot of time. Time I had always wanted to use for things I considered more meaningful and fun. Time for an acting class, for example, or to make music, do odd jobs around the house, work out, learn a new language, read a book. When I spent an evening doing something other than watching television, I went to bed feeling much more satisfied.

Seinfeld was one series I continued to watch in the beginning. Fun people doing fun things in a funny way. But there came a point that I realised – and this sounds a bit strange – that these people weren’t my friends at all. Jerry, Kramer and Elaine were having a blast together, and here I was sitting alone, patiently waiting for the next joke. It made me angry. They were, in fact, keeping me away from my real friends. Why are the series about family and friendship – Friends, Cheers, The Cosby Show – always so popular? Maybe it’s because they give you the illusion of sharing in their happiness.

After this realisation I immediately cancelled my cable subscription. Since then, I have had more intensive contact with more friends. And I’ve noticed that their experiences interest me more than those of fictitious television characters, and that their opinions are more stimulating than those of the umpteenth expert on a current affairs programme.

I always thought that watching television was relaxing. It isn’t. It’s like yawning: your body is actually screaming for oxygen, and you’re better off going for a run than crawling into bed. If your mind is seeking distraction and relaxation, there are better ways than flopping onto the sofa and passively watching, experiencing intermittent irritation with what you see on the screen. Have a go at cooking a lavish meal, write a letter, potter around the house or meditate, learn to juggle.

Without television I am more myself. Mind you, I don’t have an aversion to television. On one of those dozens of channels there is always – well, nearly always – something worth watching. In fact, I even have a VCR. Not only do I have a video rental shop in the neighbourhood, but my sharp-witted friends sometimes lend me a tape with ‘must-see’ programmes.

And yet… a while ago Moscow’s television antenna went out of service and the city’s residents went for days without television. After recovering from the initial shock, Muscovites went to visit friends and enjoyed doing things with family members or housemates. It made the news. I didn’t see it, but for once I could join in a discussion about something that was on television. And I wondered who actually benefited from getting the antenna repaired. The good news for Muscovites – and anyone else who is interested – is that the path to their friends and their own life is very short: they only have to press the ‘off’ button.

How can I regain control over my television?
-Determine the maximum number of hours of television you will watch each week. Then take that week’s TV guide and highlight what seems interesting. Whittle the selection down until you reach your maximum.
-Lose or break your remote control. (First check to see whether the television can be manually operated.)
-Record what you want to see on a videotape and watch the tape, never the live programme. Keep the VCR’s remote control handy.
-If you have children, never make television part of a reward or punishment and help your kids to find other things to do with their time.
-Declare one evening a week ‘television free’, with the option to expand. Make it more fun by unplugging all the (electronic) equipment in the house and turning off the lights. Light candles.

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