How Much is Too Much?

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with a colleague when I casually mentioned that I really didn't need any new content in my life. I felt like I could revisit all the movies, music, television, books, and video games that I'd already enjoyed and be perfectly content for the rest of my days. She agreed with the sentiment, and that conversation has haunted me for years now. Was I truly being authentic in that statement? Do I really need more content in my life? How much is too much?

I think my problem is I've always wanted to be well‑rounded and well‑versed in what I know. So there is a bit of a completionist in me, but also this desire to stay up to date on things. So when I'm watching an old television show that I've already seen before, I feel like I'm not making progress on my backlog, and at times it can be hard for me to be content with what I'm watching because I feel like I should be exploring new things. I mean, I have so much at my fingertips why not explore it all?

Of course, I also think back to when I was happiest with television, and that was when my options were limited. I was bored, so I watched infomercials or the same episode of $25,000 Pyramid for the third time. I settled for predictable and cheesy syndicated shows on Saturday afternoon because my options were limited. Now, thirty years later, those Saturday afternoons are some of my favorite memories: weekends when I discovered shows like Cleopatra 2525, Farscape, or VIP. Television that wasn't great, but it was good enough.

Things began to change with the introduction of DVDs and the collector mentality. Suddenly, I'd rather spend my Saturday afternoon rewatching movies or exploring special features. I freed myself from the shackles of pre‑programmed television, and I loved this freedom. My DVD collection grew rapidly, as I began working around the same time DVDs began hitting retail shelves, and in many ways my life has never been the same. I control what I watch, when I watch it, yet I struggle with finding things I want to watch. I'm always thinking there is something else I should be watching, rather than what I want to watch.

There's a story I think about often from around the turn of the century. I had a friend who lived down the street from me. He had a PlayStation 2 and I had an Xbox. With my pre‑order for my Xbox I purchased three games, then bought another two the same week. By Christmas that year, I owned pretty much every title released on the console. My friend had one game: NBA Street. He never bought another game. Sure, he'd come over and play ESPN NFL 2K5 with me, but when he went home, he played Street and he loved it. He was satisfied and content with his one game, and I had dozens of games and it frustrated me that I never appreciated a single game to the degree that he loved NBA Street.

Entertainment is supposed to be entertaining, not a chore. The dread I feel when I think about the backlog of books, games, and movies is, quite frankly, unacceptable. I think my first step is to let go of my backlog, to remind myself that I don't NEED to consume any of this.

It's been a while, but I remember seeing a quote about how things in life should be like a river: you should pick something up from the river, admire it, and put it back into the water. The older I get, the more I believe this to be true with hobbies and entertainment. So what if I just want to watch 15 minutes of a movie I've seen before? Who cares if I'd rather rewatch an episode of Just Shoot Me than Project Hail Mary? No one is keeping score, and no one really gives a damn what I watch, read, or play. These are just items that are supposed to make my downtime a little bit better than it would be if they weren't in my life.

And I guess this brings me to another question: is this enriching my life? Do the times when I feel fulfilled and really enjoy watching a movie offset the days I feel like I'm struggling to get through a film or when I feel anxious that my backlog is too large?

And maybe... just maybe... this is such a big deal to me because so much of my life and interests have been wrapped up in consuming content. And maybe the idea that it is no longer fulfilling me is scary, because I don't really know what I would do without it. Would I lose a part of me? What if I don't find anything else that fulfills me in its place?

I wish I were rich and could have a mid‑life crisis like you see on TV, and just go buy a Corvette so that I could pretend that I'm not getting older. Then I could ignore all these strange feelings that are bubbling up, these uncomfortable truths, because now I'm a "insert your mid‑life crisis item here - Corvette/golf/learning to play the guitar/running a marathon" guy. I could tell myself I'm not getting older, I'm still young; look at me learning to live in my mid‑life and redefining myself by buying something and pretending I'm something that I'm not!