In the last few months, I have hardly turned on the television. My favorite shows have gone on without my participation, the news continues to grow more and more bizarre by the moment, and I have settled in the quiet with my books. I can’t pinpoint when this became my norm, but it works for me. The other night, a friend texted me and asked how I was enjoying, “my favorite award show” in which I responded that I was not watching it in favor of a book. She was surprised and to be honest, I was too. My evening used to be scheduled around the red carpet and the show itself. This year I opted for a blank television screen.
When I do catch a headline, it is something so bizarre like, “man paints walls with his feces on a plane” or “infantile leader tweets my button is bigger than your button”. And people wonder why the news doesn’t interest me. The news is so unfathomable that fiction writers are now going to have be extra creative when exploring their plots. But books, they transport me. They keep me company when the world outside is a few fries short of a happy meal. It is my adult version of a timeout.
Perhaps I will binge watch my favorite shows at some point. Maybe I will indulge the news on a deeper level. But for now, I am enjoying being taken away by characters who seem more sane than real life humans. Books are my companion in a world fraught with insanity.
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