The End of Me

I have finally fallen into the evil clutches of the highly infectious plague: the Internet television.

TV-watching has become such a sporadic event ever since I live in this let's-dub-every-foreign-film/tv-serie land. The sheer pleasure of being entertained by the google box or the big screen has all but been brutally murdered because the auditory sense is appalled by the voice-overs which are often frightfully incongruous with the acting humans on screen.

Therefore, I resort to other more productive and stimulating activities like posting trying-hard-to-be-cool updates/pictures on Facebook for the sole narcissistic purpose of garnering approvals or nods from online friends, liking their status/pictures (oh, that's very meaningful surprisingly because clicking that 'like' button is not unlike a good deed which will almost always satisfy the friends' similar urge for endorsements. Now, isn't that for a good cause?) and checking out these online friends checking out my check-ins. And whatever spare time may be left of it, I then engage in mundane and uninspiringly pursuits such as writing or reading.

Given that my time has been so well-occupied, I hardly have the chance to miss watching TV until this happened:

iPad + TV Apps = The End of Me

With a mind-boggling range of channels to choose from, it's suddenly transformed my pitiful plight from TV drought to overwhelmingly spoilt for choices.

Not that I am complaining. It's a much-needed change from the often thought-provoking yet heavy and depressing German television to the glitz and glamour of American shows which can be terribly entertaining but at the same time reek of implausibility and too-perfect superficies.

Now that the couch potato is back at wallowing in television-ing, you can expect the already-lack-of-colours imagination taking a backseat even further back. Heh.