There are so many important and interesting things to do at Stanford that we almost don't have time to do the things that don't matter at all. Like watch TV.

I miss TV. I never get to watch it when I'm at school. When I'm bored, lazy and at home, there's nothing else that fills the hole in my thumping heart like the all-American, all-consuming Technicolor pop-cultural hodge-podge from hell. It's natural to be so enamored, really. Besides making vast chunks of time disappear, TV teaches you about the true Hollywood story of scary but oddly fascinating people like Martha Stewart. It teaches you about plastic surgeons who, as children, decided to get rich — because sometimes, when children are raised to follow Gandhi and are taught to live a simple life, they become determined to live in mansions, hire chefs and throw lavish dinner parties in Beverly Hills. TV even tricks children — and probably too many adults — into believing that life is like a movie, before they discover otherwise and understand the word "disillusionment." What's not to like?

Well, there is the cloak of lethargy that descends upon me after a couple of shows. There is that dull headache I get after a few more hours. There is the loss of time that eventually leads to loss of life.

While I wish I could watch Nip / Tuck and other quality shows in the dorms, in truth I'm glad that I only have limited access to TV and therefore live a more productive life than I probably would otherwise. Yes, TV contaminates your mind. But don't worry about the obvious dangers like watching people get killed and hearing lawyers talk. It's the underlying messages that screw up your outlook on life without you even knowing it.

I grew up watching "Saved By the Bell," and where did that get me in life? Perhaps my slight fear of preppy white people with blond hair comes from watching blonds like Zach Morris rule the school.

But a "Blond is Better" myth isn't universal, not even in Europe. Blond men have no place in Italian television. Blond women, yes; they are dearly coveted and appear next to brunette men only. Odd — but then, was Ken blond? I don't know. I only had one Ken doll when I was little, and he had shiny brown paint on his head. He wore an unfortunate sparkly blue leopard-print shirt, but when you only have one Ken, you probably only have one Ken outfit. One day my best friend sat on him, and his leg fell off. He wasn't the only one who was crushed.

It kind of disturbs me that I didn't throw away one-legged Ken. It kind of disturbs me that I played with Barbie and Ken. Oh well, at least I didn't collect scary plastic "Treasure Trolls" with fuzzy neon hair and jewels for belly buttons like countless American children, who probably fell for Beanie Babies and Harry Potter, too. Hellish fads. Harry Potter is a mystery to me, and I'm not talking about the stories themselves. I doubt it's my short attention span alone that makes me unable to read those books. I actually did the reading for I-HUM, unlike all those freshmen who kicked my butt in I-HUM despite their creaseless book spines.

It kind of sucks that I couldn't compete with the CS and EE kids in I-HUM. At least I'm smart enough to avoid the run-of-the-mill variety of cheesy cleavage-baring, weapon-wielding melodramas on the air like "Alias." That's not to say that I oppose cheesy cleavage-baring, weapon-wielding melodramas. If you stretch your imagination, almost any gritty and entertaining show on television, such as the strangely good Nip / Tuck, qualifies as such. Watch Nip / Tuck to see messed up adults reveal their modern messed-up-edness with riveting acting and well-written lines. Did I mention it shows you how life can turn out extremely badly and thus steels your resolve to avoid having weekly life crises involving crack, adultery and plastic surgery?

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like had I not grown up letting years of my life disappear, glued to the four TVs at home. Half a century ago in Korea, when my parents were toy-less children, kids were so bored that they tasted ant butts because they heard they're sour. They are. And once, my dad followed other kids to a slaughterhouse and saw a cow valiantly struggling to stand up while being hacked to death. Life without TV surely would have been vastly different. Perhaps it would have been more real.

Would life be more real now if we turned off TV? Or would we just substitute the electronic brain drain with other meaningless activities like buying stuff and listening to iPod Minis? I don't know. I only know one thing. I have never been bored enough to taste an ant butt. And that's a damn good thing.

Julie Park is a junior majoring in English who needs to find her roommate a date for Screw Your Roommate. Want to be it? Email her at ajapark@stanford.edu.