TV is so last year

A TV-less state is not one without news, pop culture and entertainment, as one might assume.

Since I moved to Toronto more than four months ago, I have been one of the few TV-less. (There are others out there. You need not fear them.)

One might wonder, what is it like, to be without a boob tube? How do you get your daily minimum of one-hour of after work mindless entertainment? How do you get your news?

The answers, in no particular order,:

I get my news online. Makes sense considering my work, no? I now know what it is like for those who rely completely on the internet for news.

It's so instant now, it doesn't even matter if it's TV or the internet. I remember the thrill of being able to 'watch' or rather read the almost-instant CBC blog of the final World Cup game when Italy beat France in a penalty shoot-out. I read the last entry announcing the win. A second later, the floor shook as the city erupted into cheers.

My pop culture fill comes from Youtube, though that might soon come to an end with Google's purge of the system. Mostly I check the favourites for news clips of today's hot topics, or I just watch the latest Daily Show.

You'd think the amount of time spent reading would rise exponentially, but I essentially just find ways to waste time on the internet. And I cook more. Yum.

Conclusion: it is possible to go without TV. It is not possible, however, to go without both. Though I did that for a week. And next week may be the same as I plan to give back this lovely turquoise Toshiba. My mac is still sick.

And so, I may soon be back to being without internet and TV, living as the modern-day Henry David Thoreau. At least I have two phones.

Wikipedia vs. wrinkles

I sit beside a veteran journalist who was formerly a TV reporter. He knows politics, all politics, and spews decades-old facts and stories like he's telling you what he had for lunch.

But there is a thick air of bitterness he exudes from time to time. It comes from the perception -- some real, some perceived -- of becoming sidelined in a media industry obsessed with the younger and younger.

It leaves a bittersweet taste on the tip of my tongue. On one hand, I have undoubtedly been a beneficiary of that, especially in the online field where it pays to have grown up immersed in the medium.

But on the other hand, even as I manage projects with people all older than me, I cringe at the control I've been granted in the wrinkled face of experience.

God forbid I one day am being bossed around by some 20-something know-it-all. I imagine it must wilt their ego to the size of a prune.

The flip side is I am in awe by the reporter's knowledge, the result of decades of experience in the field. I look forward to the day when I become the go-to person on a topic.

Though from observation, it seems the young reporters search out their own information, googling it or otherwise; the older, and shall I say wiser, drop by the veteran reporter's desk with an old-fashioned verbal query.

So, perhaps Google will rule the world eventually after all. Though how accurate the world would be, I don't know.

Why don't you care?

I was grumpy when my boss saddled me with the heavy responsibility of manning a municipal election site.

Who cares about municipal politics? I thought.

Then I thought, why the hell don't people care about municipal politics?

If there is anything we were taught in journalism school, it was that people are most interested and passionate about whatever is happening in the vicinity of their home. The closer, the more interested.

So, shouldn't municipal politics bring a flood of voters to the polls? City councillors are the ones who are going to fight to keep garbage dumps from setting up beside your backyard, make sure you get that new bus route as promised, and keep your streets clean.

It doesn't get any closer than that.

Yet, a dismal 38 per cent of eligible voters actually cast their ballot in the 2003 municipal election in Toronto.

Are you bored yet? Are you about to shut this page down thinking what the hell do I have to gain?

You're right. Most of you aren't even property owners. What do you care? It's all the same in the end.

But why don't property owners care?

Is it:

a. they don't think electing a city councillor will make a difference?
b. they don't have time to ponder the candidates?
c. they can't find the information they need?

I think it's a combination. I, for the life of me, can't find the information I need in the time I have. And what does it matter anyways? when have I seen tangible evidence of what they've done for me?

So, then the question is: how do I make people care enough to check out the special election website I'm spending hours making? Is it wasted time?

I hope not. We should care, dammit.

On the fritz, or on the verge of fritziness

3 things that could induce slight madness:

1. Gobs-MAC-ed

To all Mac users, God forbid your much-loved, much-admired computer go on the fritz. Call the Help Centre, it's $59.99, thank you very much for an over-the-phone session that may or may not help.

Not your technology of choice? Want a human? Make an appointment. But, here's the catch: No advance booking. It's day-by-day baby.

Check out our handy, convulated site every day for availability that same day. G'luck. You'll need it!

2. A victim of voter/worker apathy

Municipal election 2006 for all of Ontario is Nov. 13.

Betcha you don't care! Only 38 per cent of Toronto's population do. I'm betting you don't either. 'Cause I sure as hell don't.

Not because I'm all Who-Cares-If-It's-In-My-Backyard, but because dammit federal and provincial elections are in your face, but do you think I can find a debate or any information about the city councillor candidates running in my area? Nope.

3. A momentary lapse of calm

In less than three months, I'll be boarding a KLM flight to Delhi, India, with someone who at this point I've known less than three months. That fact makes for some slight paper-bag breathing nervousness.

But to be honest, my darting eyes calm easily upon the intake of a deep breath. Excitement will kick in shortly, I expect. I can already feel a smile sneaking in.