[Realization] The late-night shows I secretly watched behind my parents' backs broadened my world.

Once it was past 11 PM, the TV channel control became mine.

The living room lights were off.
My parents had gone to their bedroom. My sister was asleep too.
I would quietly pick up the remote, turn the volume down to the lowest setting, and tune into a late-night show.
Only the TV screen glowed faintly in the dark room.

Shows like "Uchimura Produce," "Wannai R&R," "Haneru no Tobira," "God Tan," "Ame Talk!," and so on.
The show titles might differ depending on the generation, but
I believe there are a huge number of people in this generation who share the experience of "secretly watching TV after parents went to sleep."

A different atmosphere from daytime TV flowed from the other side of the screen.

Content that was a little bit vulgar, mature, and absolutely impossible to broadcast on daytime educational TV was unleashed during the free-spirited time slot after 11 PM.
I didn't understand half of it. I couldn't read the context of the adult jokes.
But the experience of "it's interesting even though I don't understand it" was intensely fresh.

I think that was my first experience peeking at the world outside my own.

Things not taught at school. Topics that would never come up in conversations with friends.
Late-night shows had an underground world that stepped one step beyond my daily life.
And that underground wasn't a scary place, but a free and breezy one.
"So this kind of world exists too."
That surprise and excitement pushed my perspective beyond the school fence.

Now in my 30s, I feel like the opportunities to peek at "the outside of myself" are decreasing.
No, to be precise, it's not that they are "decreasing," but in a sense, they are "blocked."

SNS timelines filter and display only things that match my preferences or things I've reacted to in the past, based on algorithms.
YouTube's recommended video section only suggests things that are an extension of videos I've watched before.
Amazon's recommendations endlessly line up products similar to what I've bought.

My world is being optimized by my past data.
This is a phenomenon called the "filter bubble."
Like being inside a bubble, I am surrounded 360 degrees only by information that reinforces my existing values, and heterogeneous information no longer enters.
My perspective isn't broadening; it's getting deeper and deeper.
I'm just digging in the same direction, not spreading out sideways.

However, late-night shows were content that "entered my eyes even though I didn't choose them."
I found shows I didn't intend to watch by accidentally zapping through channels.
If I clicked the remote randomly, I would stumble upon a mysterious show. I'd watch it for no particular reason.
That "accidental encounter" broadened my world.

I think what I need now is the "act of peeking at late-night shows."

Intentionally read books outside my expertise.
Open Note articles in genres I don't usually read.
Listen to podcasts by people I don't know.
Try taking a walk in a town I never usually go to.

Step outside the algorithm. Intentionally break the wall of the "filter bubble."
True new encounters only exist in places beyond the frame of my "preferences."

The late-night shows I secretly watched behind my parents' backs were, in a sense, a "forbidden education."
In that dark room, I learned by myself, in secret, the fun of touching things I didn't understand.

In my 30s, I no longer need to hide late-night shows from my parents.
But the courage and curiosity to reach out to "things I don't understand" on my own are still necessary.

I don't have to go out of my way to turn down the volume. Let's go peek at the unknown world with confidence.
Just like when I watched those slightly risqué shows back then at night.