I don’t watch much television. At least, not in comparison to the 4-6 hours watched by the average American every day. In some ways, it’s a source of pride — I haven’t succumbed to this fattening, numbing temptation of the digital age.

In another way, it’s a cultural crimp — I’m in the dark about stories, jokes and pop trivia that a lot of my friends seem nearly to live for.

Nary a day goes by that “Breaking Bad” comments don’t flood my newsfeed. My dearth of knowledge about “Game of Thrones” has kept me out of more than a few frenzied conversations. That I know who Kerry Washington is, but am not sure what she has to do with “Scandal” is, apparently, criminal. I’ve never seen an episode of “The Big Bang Theory” or “The Walking Dead,” and this is a punishable offense, tacitly if not explicitly

Recently I told a coworker that I sometimes confuse Bart and Homer (which one is the dad again?) because I’ve only seen a few episodes of the 25-season animated cultural critique. This was blasphemy, and the disbelief — nay, scorn — proved once again that I’m missing out.

So I decided to do something about it.

Over the course of several Christmas seasons, I watched all of “Lost” with my brother. That was my first experience watching a show from beginning to end since I was a kid watching “Boy Meets World,” “Rugrats” and “Saved by the Bell.” (I also grew up with reruns of “Law & Order.”) The experience was entertaining, but more importantly it allowed me to feel in the know. I had seen The Hatch, knew where The Others came from, felt invested in the relationships. It helped that I watched with my brother, and that “Lost” had regular cliffhangers that made it addictive, but this latter quality also proved the danger of TV.

Post-“Lost” I returned to my non-serial standard: mostly sports and news.

I continued to miss out. No “Mad Men.” No “Glee” (not disappointed). No “Grey’s Anatomy.

And then, inevitably, Netflix came into my life.

In order to maintain my dignity and sanity, and because I still dread becoming one of those all-I-do-is-watch-TV people who live vicariously through daytime soaps and primetime dramadies, I eased into Netflix. (Also, my computer is not trustworthy enough to stream shows online.)

The first show I watched on Netflix was “The Office.”

This will not impress anyone. I’ve gained no coolness through watching. I’ve only achieved the cultural standard, only reached the norm everyone expected of me all along.

But I learned a few things along the way. Some things that many of you TV-buffs may have known for years, but may also have skipped over because you’re too close to the situation, too zealous about Dr. House, too much a part of the Hollywood system.

1. Good TV is like good literature. Both forms tell stories. They take you places, let you meet people and hopefully make you feel something. If they’re doing their job, they should also teach you something or, minimally, entertain. And, quite frankly, I think television shows can make me laugh a lot harder and longer than a book can.

2. TV puts you in the loop. The natural side-effect of watching any television show is the ability to talk about it. Now when people bring up “Lost” or “The Office,” I have something to say. It forms a sort of bond between friends and strangers, everyone privy to a cultural niche. Of course, there are dangers here too: a) Is this a loop you really want to be in, or is it the loop for time-squandering junkies? b) One loop urges another. One show is good. Two’s not bad. But when you feel the pull of your eight shows, you’re probably overinvested in fantasy worlds.

3. Jim and Pam are my friends. This is the greatest gift — and most dangerous curse — I found in committing to a show. I felt connected to the characters. I came to care about Michael Scott. Came to feel like I knew Jim and Pam. Decided I really liked Creed. I was invested in their histories, their problems, their dreams. To be sure, there’s a limit that shouldn’t be crossed. To me, some girls are way too invested in the contestants on “The Bachelor” and some guys obsess too much over Skip Bayless and pro athletes. But it’s good to be emotionally engaged. It’s fun to care.

I think there are still plenty of downsides to watching TV shows. Time-wasting, addiction, brain-draining, couch-potato-ing. Popular shows seem to be much crasser and sexualized than popular literature. Plastic-surgery/makeup-glamor, explosions and stupidity also seem more a requirement in television than in books. And to me, the best novels are still far better than the best shows, but they both have their place.

So, going forward, I won’t so easily judge you for DVR-ing your four shows per night. But please don’t judge me for never having seen “How I Met Your Mother.”

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Update: I’m almost done with “Parks and Recreation.” Tell me what I should watch next.

Griffin Jackson

After a few years spent correcting grammatical errors and writing subtle, clever headlines in a Chicago newsroom, Griffin Paul Jackson (’11) now does aid work with refugees in Lebanon. He writes about that, God, and, when the muse descends, Icelandic sheep. Read him here: griffinpauljackson.com.