After a semester of covering television news for Crimson Arts, I have learned that a job that requires watching television and doesn’t require leaving my room is probably not the best for my health and hygiene. I’m not sure if I would be happy being a traveling writer, but my face would probably be sun-kissed rather than aglow with a laptop screen tan. However, writing “You Are What You Watched” has taken me from Litchfield Penitentiary, the prison that holds “Orange is the New Black,” to McKinley High, the school where students burst into song in the name of “Glee,” and even 16th-century France, the site of Mary Queen of Scots’s scandalous teenage romps, at least as depicted by “Reign.” With my last column, I want to share some of the sights I have seen along the way that didn’t make it to the page before.

We are running out of history to adapt.

Though certain series such as “Mad Men” make the case for bringing the past back to life and onto our screens, newer series illustrate that some things are meant to be forgotten. The CW is currently developing a drama about ballet-dancing sisters in 1880s Paris, one of whom becomes the muse for painter Edgar Degas. The only demographic I can imagine this appealing to is art history majors who have lost their remotes. Though this is an artifact of fictional history, another series in the works centers around “Hourman,” a DC Comics hero created in 1940, whose superpower is the ability to see one hour into the future. The only thing Hourman can save me from is having to watch the series. I could ask him if it was worth it, he would say, “No, run for your life,” and I could watch something else.

Though I disagree with Barney Stinson’s saying that “new is always better,” old isn’t necessarily better either. Some things are meant to stay in the past. How networks obsessively recycle history illustrates not only a lack of creativity but a type of nihilistic nostalgia. It suggests that we are running out of stories to tell and have to look at the past for events of importance, resorting to looking between the lines of textbooks to find history that remains untouched. Though familiar stories may earn a viewer’s recognition, that doesn’t mean they will hold interest.

The line between fiction and reality is blurred in television.

I’m not going to talk about reality television. What I mean by this blurred line is that by virtue of producing episodes over extended periods of time, television has a more personal relationship both with its audience and its creators. A movie is created in a one-time process, while television series can last for years, and their characters change over time with the audience. This effect is particularly clear in some recent events in television. After “Breaking Bad” ended, a funeral was staged and a fake tombstone erected for Walter White in Albuquerque. The tombstone was removed after family members of actual deceased in the cemetery complained that fans were crowding the cemetery and even stepping on graves. I wrote previously about how the death of Cory Monteith was incorporated into the series “Glee” and how his character’s death was shrouded in mystery in order to allow it to be applicable to Monteith’s own circumstances. The most innovative event, however, was how “The Simpsons” memorialized the death of an actress by letting her character, Edna Krabappel, retire from teaching at Springfield Elementary. Rather than dying or leaving the show without a trace, Ms. Krabappel will continue to exist in the Springfield fictional universe.

If our attention is currency, we must spend it wisely.