Lately, I’ve been watching this program, Dexter, on the Netflix. It’s about a cop who moonlights as a serial killer. It’s lovely.
It’s not so much that I’m into horror. I’m really not. I read Zombies Are Magic purely for the comedy writing. What I love about this program is the duplicity. Dexter has a secret life that he can absolutely not reveal to anyone at work.
There are a lot of jobs like this. So many of us go to work and hide our true natures, whether you work in retail and wear long sleeves to cover your tattoos, teach in a conservative school and hide that you’re gay, or just have the wrong true personality for your chosen profession. We have to have scripted conversations with people at work, just to get by. It’s the rules. We’ve all got to play by the rules, even if we’re not serial killers, but just something a little bit unmarketable, a little bit off from the norm. And then, we’re unhappy because we can’t be ourselves.
The funny thing about Dexter is that he really loves his day job.
I watch this horrific program and I find it to be almost deep. Some people say that zombies are so popular these days because that’s what people feel like: zombies. We’re pretending to be alive, but we’re dead inside- or some such thing. I think it’s a lot more complicated than that, but there definitely is something a little off in these modern lives of ours, a little dark, a little scary.