And so it begins.

If you are just tuning in, this blog will remain mostly on television news, updates, as well as my opinion on recent episodes of the long list of shows I like to think of as: “My Study Material”. Giving my habit of spending hours watching the tube a name makes me a feel a little more secure inside, allowing me to hold onto the shred of hope that I am not a total loser. Because all of this television watching has a purpose. At least I try to tell myself that as I veg out on the couch day in and day out.

You see, I live in a place where pursuing a dream of mine to work in television production is seemingly impossible. And as much as it pains me to admit this fact: I cannot be serious with my goals unless I nut up and make the move to LA. Los Angeles is a place, in my opinion, where people’s souls go to die. (Pause for those from LA to roll their eyes). Every single fiber of my being is against moving to LA because I fear its toxicity will change my inner core. That is, every fiber except the largest component of what defines me. And that is to do something, anything, in the television industry.

The American Dream, to make a name for myself, etc etc. It sounds so cheesy on paper, and even worse in real life. I have yet to encounter a conversation in which the question: “So what do you want to do when you graduate?” and my response of working in TV is not followed by a nod of apprehension or confused glazed-over look. Yet still for some insane reason I have yet to validate, this is what I have wanted for as long as I can remember and most likely what I will yearn for until I make some sort of attempt that will hopefully end in some sort of success rather than its nasty cousin, and a least favorite of mine, sheer and embarrassing failure. If anything I need to fail just so I can say I did it, or at least, attempted.

Growing up, I thought it was a normal American experience to run home after school to catch the new episode of Sister, Sister, Teenage Mutant Turtles, and Growing Pains. I fell asleep in my dad’s lap watching, and not understanding, Star Trek. I dreamt of the day when I would be a contestant on Double Dare or Nickelodeon’s Super Toy Run (google it people - every child’s fantasy wrapped up in a reality television show). ‘Couch potato’ became a regular nickname from my mother, all endearment removed by the time I reached middle school.

What I know now is that I have always, in some way, felt a connection with everything that television is about. The film industry is the pretentious uncle of television, and I have never been able to rock that boat. Yet with TV, there has always been a feeling of familiarity. A sense of home, if you will. It is not a passion that I necessarily looked for, but more, it found me.

Do you remember that form of gibberish where you add ‘idig’ after every syllable? So dog would in turn be: didigog. It is still English, you can’t argue with that. Yet for those that understand it, the language becomes so much more. That’s what television is to me. Wow that sounds ridiculous, is that a completely terrible metaphor? Hah. Well, essentially, in the least pretentious way… I’ve always felt an understanding with the inner-workings of television as a language that other people do not pick up on. And there HAS to be a club or something that houses other people like me, right? Hi my name is Megan and I’m obsessed with everything television. Maybe a laboratory? A cosy test tube?

In the end, this blog is just one step in this crazy pipe dream of mine. Maybe I am naive, but if I have to chose between settling for a stupid desk job over trying and failing to make something of myself, I’m going for the latter. That much I have to do.