That's Life.

The television presents some mixed views in my mind. I seldom watch TV. I hate knowing that the moment I turn on the TV, I'm going to become a zombie. The world around me appears to disappear, and my mind has no concerns other than those that apply to whatever conflict the current program has chose to present to me. Half the time, I walk away with a blank stare, not completely sure what I just watched, or what it was about. Perhaps there's an occasional giggle or gasp, but other than that, no movement, nor sound escapes me. It's as if the moment I hit the power button I'm sending myself into a sort of trance. I'm no longer with reality, but a sudoreality thrown at me by a network.

However, there are some positive aspects of TV, I think. As weird as this may sound, the TV show I get most pumped over is Planet Earth. Or better yet, Life. Gotta get my Oprah in. 

These two TV shows present me with more laughs and cries than any other program ever wished to have done. When Oprah tells me about how a small male cuddlefish disguises itself as a female by changing colors and shape to mate with the female already "protected" by the larger male, I am in awe. I'm like Taylor Swift recieving yet another award. That is, :-O followed by, "THIS. IS. INCREDIBLE." When Oprah tells me that the baby goat is playing a game of cat and mouse with a hungry fox, I cheer that baby goat on like nobody's business. I literally scream at the TV, hoping it will hear me, and run just a little bit faster and a little more graceful so it can escape. Alas, the baby goat scarcely does so, and the moment the fox sinks its teeth into the small animal, I'm filled with incredulous amounts of sadness, and at the same time, curiosity. After my involuntary overreatction over the loss of a baby goat I'll never have seen with my own eyes, never have forged a connection with, the question penetrates my mind, "Why did the goat lose?" 

This can be answered simply with, "Well, it's a baby. Duh." But if you're me, that's not good enough. And because that's not good enough, your mind is silently BEGGING Oprah to tell you what environmental elements or genetics negatively impacted the goat so that you can justify the death with, "I guess it wasn't really the fox's fault. Dude's gotta eat." 

Some people might call this sort of reaction ridiculous. I call it Life.