By Matt Thekkethala ’15, Feature Columnist

I got a 75 on a math test today. My worst grade all year. My worst grade in any math class I’ve ever taken, in fact. Yet I was oddly relieved, mostly because I was expecting a 50 or lower.

I sunk back into my chair and tried to avoid eye contact with my teacher. I could feel the disappointment radiating from him. I probably imagined that part, but in those little moments of weakness, I tend to get a bit paranoid. My friend sitting next to me, noticing me in my shame, said, “Don’t worry. You won president this year.”

I deserved it. The 75. I didn’t study. At all. The night before I took it, I was up working till 10PM, and I managed to convince myself that I could wake up early the next morning to study for it – something I’ve never been able to do.

So at 10PM, I got into bed. I wasn’t tired, so I grabbed my phone and decided to watch something on Netflix. I watched two episodes of this 1990s murder mystery show called Twin Peaks, and finally drifted off to sleep at 1AM.

Eight hours later, I took the test. So, I didn’t really have the right to expect any kind of high grade. Netflix is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. It’s also one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I’ll explain.

Until I was about 13, I really didn’t watch any TV. My parents always discouraged me from watching it, claiming it would ‘destroy my brain cells’ and ‘make me stupid.’ Every now and then, I could sneak in a SpongeBob episode, but I spent most of my time reading. But in middle school, no one talked about books. They talked about TV, sports, girls, and music – things that were quite foreign to me, especially sports.

Then, finally, my parents wised up and got Netflix. There was a vast array of movies and TV shows to watch; I was excited. I’d finally be able to talk to people about something.

In the seventh grade, I caught up on NBC’s flawless masterpiece, The Office. I’d watch an episode every night. I’d quote the irreverent protagonist, Michael Scott, in everyday conversation. It came to a point where if someone described the plot of a specific episode, within five seconds I could identify the name, season, and number of that episode. It was that bad.

People were entertained by this for a while. I got cheap laughs here and there from the few who got the reference. But then I became known as “that Office guy.” It appeared that it was the only thing I could talk about.

So I expanded my horizons. Modern Family. Parks and Recreation. Community. Arrested Development. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. The Big Bang Theory. Even Seinfeld, for a while. I got smarter. By watching a little bit of everything, I could talk to more people.

Then, sophomore year struck. The conversation turned to more serious things. That’s right. Breaking Bad. My peers’ tastes had matured. Comedy alone no longer satisfied them. The real things in life were more appealing. Drama. I had a lot of work to do. When everyone caught up on Breaking Bad, many replacement shows were discovered to fill that empty vacuum temporarily as they waited for the final season to arrive. Homeland, Game of Thrones, Mad Men, The Walking Dead, House of Cards, Suits, White Collar and the occasional Downton Abbey provided necessary proxies for the long-awaited ending of Breaking Bad. And I watched it all. Instead of doing my Chemistry or AP US homework, I’d squeeze in an episode of Psych. I’d fall asleep watching Boardwalk Empire on my phone. I never did bring myself to watch ESPN, however.

I was obsessed. I’d lost myself. My grades were dropping. My parents were upset with me. I was addicted to television.

And for what? For a meaningless conversation about Walter White? TV was beginning to define who I was. How I acted. What I said. Even how I walked, at some points. I was going for a mix between an arrogant Don Draper stride and a post-modern Harvey Specter stroll. I had no substance. Nothing real. All because I wanted something to talk about.

That scorching red 75 stared back at me. I took a deep breath and smiled. I was able to bounce back in my junior year. I got focused, and concentrated on the important things. I learned that people respect you not for how you talk, but what you do. Being a good person was what mattered. Walk the walk if you can’t talk the talk.

I’m awkward. And I’m OK with that. Because I try to do good things, and that’s what really matters. And it only took me 800 episodes to figure that out.