Every few days I take my rugs outside and beat them, channeling my inner wizened, kerchiefed babushka. I was out in my front yard this afternoon, shaking the life out of the rugs and desperately craving a cool, creamy borscht, when a man who works for my internet provider walked up the driveway and started talking to me about upgrades. He asked me what I was currently paying for my TV, internet, and phone, and I explained to him that I don’t have a land line, nor do I watch TV. He was baffled.

“Wow, so… what do you do for entertainment?” he asked me.

“I read,” I told him. “I’m kind of a dork.”

My decision not to have television in my house is a spectacularly controversial one, considering it affects no one but me. People are either impressed, confused, or immediately uncomfortable- worried, perhaps, that I will judge them for this sweetly benign vice. I could never judge someone for watching TV, just as I will never be able to judge my daughters when they inevitably get in trouble for smoking pot in the high school parking lot. I have been there, and I understand the purpose that it serves. Watching television was the main activity I shared with my husband. We were so very different. We loved different things, thought about different things, talked about different things. He was maddeningly cerebral, a former debate team champion, and always interested in playing the devil’s advocate in order to spice up a discussion. I, on the other hand, am passionate to a fault, only able to voice my opinion on an issue once I have been given time to understand how I feel about it. We found it difficult to communicate. But at the end of a long day the one thing we could do together was park ourselves on the couch and watch shows we both enjoyed. It sounds sad, but I think it was one of the things that held us together for so long.

The last two years have been deeply introspective. The amount of mental energy I have put into to trying to understand who I am and where I belong could illuminate a small country. Cutting television out of my life wasn’t something I really thought about, it just sort of… happened. At first I was so overwhelmed by the details of the divorce and by having been flung into the world of single-motherhood, that I barely had the wherewithal to change into pajamas before falling into bed at night, much less decide what I wanted to watch on TV. But after awhile, after emerging a bit from the fog, I realized how different I felt without television. I felt calmer. I felt more aware, more present. My thoughts were so beautifully clear and uninfluenced. I started reading again, something I loved to do but never seemed to have the time for. My mental world expanded- I stopped dreaming about hidden cameras and action scenes and dreamt instead about lovers and families and far away places. Beautiful words began to float around in my mind, and I found ways to use them. I believe that words, along with other forms of art, are one of the few true ways of describing and understanding the world. So, you see, removing television from my home wasn’t a decision that I made. It was the result of becoming more authentically me.

It’s hard sometimes, especially with my clients, to not have that instant topic of surface conversation. (Did you see the last episode of “John and Kate?” I KNOW! Oh my god!) But I find other things to talk about, and the results are usually so wonderful. I have to admit though, I do like the reactions from people when I tell them about it, whether they are good or bad. It’s nice to hear someone tell me they admire my decision, and it’s hilarious to see the expressions on the faces of people who clearly just don’t get it. My favorite so far came from one of the girls I work with:

“Hey Karli, do you ever watch ‘The Hills?’”

“No, I don’t have a TV.”

“Oh my god, you are so depressing.“