Monday, January 2, 2012

My love letter to "The Twilight Zone"

Roughly 400 tweets and 45 hours later (minus some hours of succumbing to sleep) I emerge bleary-eyed from The Twilight Zone marathon hosted by the SyFy Channel. The Twilight Zone marathon is my annual tradition, which I start getting really excited for around Thanksgiving the way some people get excited for Christmas. As a child I seem to remember The Twilight Zone marathon churning out episodes into the evening of January 2nd. This was probably before the SyFy Channel adopted it.

On a whim, I decided to live-tweet as much of it as I could, using a different Twitter handle, @sirentrousers. (Because, you know, siren=mermaid and trousers=pants.) I wanted to be respectful of my 200 followers I have with @mermaidpants and not blow up their feeds with uncontrollable geekery.

I want to thank all of the Twitter followers that joined me on my journey into the fifth dimension. I cherished every @-reply and was ecstatic at every retweet of one of my ridiculous comments. Experiencing my personal tradition through social media was a wonderful experience. Every time I thought I couldn't continue -- couldn't sit upright, couldn't keep my eyes open, couldn't squeeze out another brain morsel -- I would get a thoughtful tweet or a new follower that motivated me to keep going. I am so incredibly appreciative of all the tweeters who hung out with me to ring in the New Year in this very special way! I wish I could make love to you all! Now as I exit the fifth dimension and enter a new year, my brain feels a little fuzzy.


Because a blog entry here wouldn't be complete without a photo of a book, I shall include this:


I believe I bought this book shortly after the last marathon. I think it's time I familiarize myself with some of the source material! 



My exposure to The Twilight Zone made a deep impression on me. I am very grateful that my parents were fans during the series' first run and introduced me to the show, especially when I was young enough to be fully amazed and afraid and awed by everything I saw. I don't remember my first episode, I sort of just remember being submerged into them all. Not only has the series informed much of my writing and imagination; I also believe it's what made me a more caring and compassionate individual. This is what science-fiction does, I think.

When I was a kid, the ones I liked best were the episodes with the most shocking twist. Now my favored episodes tend to be for the ones that challenge a set of beliefs. Since I really only watch The Twilight Zone during the New Year's Eve marathon (and quite rarely inbetween, because I like to store up my excitement for the end of the year), I am exposed to many of the same iconic episodes year after year. Though, somehow, every single year I see at least one episode I've never seen before. (This may be why I'm a little wary of watching the entire series front to back - the magic will be gone!) This year I lost my Zone-virginity to "Twenty-Two" and "Night of the Meek."

A few years ago I quit the most demoralizing job I have ever had. I'd only had it a few months, and while I enjoyed the work, my boss was an abusive and controlling asshole who didn't deserve an awesome assistant like me. This was mid-December. I found myself unemployed over the holidays and when The Twilight Zone marathon finally appeared, I threw myself into it.

That year I saw the episode "The Obsolete Man" for the first time. The episode stars Burgess Meredith as a librarian in a totalitarian society that's eliminated education and literacy, and therefore he must be "liquidated" for the crime of being "obsolete." This episode -- and the chanting of "You are obsolete!" -- made me feel validated. I pulled myself out of post-unemployment depression and decided that I didn't want to be obsolete, not anymore. A few months later I re-enrolled in college to finish my degree and made the decision to become a librarian.

The Twilight Zone continues to inform and shape my life. I don't really want to know what kind of crappy person I'd be without it. Thank you, Rod Serling, for making me a better human being, year after year.






0 comments:

Post a Comment