Did you know that by the time you hit 65, statistics say that you will have watched 9 years of TV?  9 years.  That’s a lot of tube.  But is it a waste of time?  Hmm…

As a child I watched a lot of TV.  As an adult, not much has changed.  The only time I didn’t watch TV was in college.  But that’s because I was too darn poor to afford one.  Once, during my sophomore year, I found an old TV in the basement of my dorm.  I wanted it really bad like I wanted Jennie Garth from BH 90210.  So, just to make sure I wasn’t stealing it, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Hey, is this any one’s TV?”  I waited 30 seconds for a response.  Since no one replied, I claimed the old tube for myself and promptly took it up to my room hidden under some dusty, sorority girl negliges.  After heaving all 150 pounds of TV up to my room, my efforts were rewarded with crystal clear sound accompanied by no picture.  It would have been the perfect TV for me had I been blind.  I guess stealing really doesn’t pay (unless, of course, you work for an investment bank).

If I thought I watched a lot of TV as a kid, it was nowhere near how much I consumed when I started my acting career.  My goal was to know every single show that I would remotely be right for and study them till my eyes bled.  No matter what audition came up, I would not be caught off-guard.  I would be ready, I would be prepared, I would be Asian.  However, had I known that 90% of my auditions would either be as a delivery boy, asian gangster who’s about to die, or some mute relative to some big asian star like Jackie Chan, I would have spent my time obsessing on something more relevant and productive (like breeding the perfect llama).  From Power Rangers to soap operas to network TV, I watched it all.  And this was before DVR so I was watching this stuff live.  I was a serious couch potato.  Luckily for me, I instituted a calisthenic regimen during my daily television binges which insured that my lack of physical activity did not morph me into a yellow Nicole Richie.  So, every 15 minutes, I did 50 push ups, 50 sit ups, and 50 squats.  After about 2 seasons, I was as fit as a navy seal and yolked like a taun taun but I had the eyes of Mr. Magoo (just slantier).

In my late 20′s, during my “spiritual awakening” phase, I decided to institute a “no TV in the house” rule.  For some reason, no one wanted to be my housemate at that time.  I felt evenings should be spent conversing, reading books, reconnecting with lost passions and hobbies like latch hook, and other puritanical, non-technological activities.  I burnt incense, took regular deep breaths without the aid of cigarettes, and spent a lot of time around lit candles.  It was a spiritual period and TV only seemed to serve to create distraction and noise.  OK, I admit, I did have a VCR & DVD hooked up to a television.  But the television did not have an antenna nor was it connected to any sort of cable or satellite source.  Life at my household was quiet, academic, and Orientalishy.  I was so cut off from media and information that had a world war broken out, I would not have known it until the enemy physically kicked down my front door and yelled at me in bad Chinglish, “We invading and raping you America fucking!”  Which then I would respond back to my chinky foe in Mandarin, “Brother, you and I are one.  The Middle Kingdom is our common mother.  May a Red Dawn be our prosperous destiny…”

After purging the Mennonite from within, I rebounded back to my mean.  Two extremes and a bit of life wisdom eventually averaged out to a more balanced and healthy relationship with TV.  I was in my early 30′s and I had finally arrived at my “balanced phase.”  I was in control.  Not too much, not too little, but just enough to feel just right.  My nightly TV fare consisted of a healthy dose of Lost, Castle, Burn Notice, Royal Pains and Fringe (that Anna Torv is one sexy elven chica).  On the reality front, I watched Survivor and, if I needed a good cry, Extreme Home Makeover would do the trick.  I was also a Discovery Channel whore.  I loved observing seamen and their crabs on Deadliest Catch as well as the perverse, culinary adventures of Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern.  If I were to add up the total number of hours of TV I watched in a week during my balanced phase, it would be about 10 (as long as I didn’t count my Cinemax After Dark sessions).  10 hours a week watching TV.  That bangs out to about 1.5 hours a day.  Not too bad I guess, when compared to the average American who watches about 4 hours/day.  I was finally one with my TV.  Namaste…

But as soon as the balance settled in, it completely blew apart.  I had a baby and now, I watch more TV than before but it revolves around 2 networks – Nick Jr. and HGTV.  A new phase in life and yet another, different, relationship with TV.  I never thought I’d look forward to Yo Gabba Gabba or get horny staring at the hosts of HGTV shows.

Which brings me back to the statistic of “9 years of TV by 65.”  Is it a waste of time?  That’s a whole hell of a lot of hours.  Am I on pace to qualify for my 9 years by 65?  Are you?  Who knows?  If you break it down, 9 years equals 78,840 hours of television in total.  If you watch 3.3 hours of TV a day from the day you’re born until the day you hit 65, you’ll bank 9 years of viewed television.  Some days you’ll watch no TV and other days you’ll watch 12 hours+ (usually the case if you start watching a Korean drama).  As much as I’d like to think that there’s no way that I could possibly watch 9 years of TV in my lifespan, I think I’m probably going to hit it or exceed it by the time I look like a raisin Asian.  But do I consider it a waste of time?  No.  I enjoy it.  I learn from it (especially from late night Cinemax) and it tends to reinforce and define the stages, changes, and memorable moments in my life.  So, 9 years of TV here I come (or past).