At six years old, Wednesday was my favorite day of the week. I could give some mushy reason about how my parents and I would sit in the family room and talk about my day, and though that’s half-true, I would be obscuring the more important part of my evening: watching "Survivor." There was nothing I enjoyed more than having a show to follow regularly and get excited about—especially an 'adult' program that didn’t cause my parents to roll their eyes. Every Wednesday, my grandmother would call at 8:15 p.m. in order to interrupt us. She didn’t approve of my watching such an inappropriate show. Given that the first season featured a nude, pixelated Richard Hatch strutting down the beach in every episode, she probably did have some cause for concern. Still, we let the phone ring, captivated by the allure of “the tribe has spoken.”
When I started middle school, I implemented a strict VHS recording schedule to capture my favorite nightly programming, fascinated by the prospect of recording "Desperate Housewives" while I was at my Girl Scout meeting. I became a truly devoted "Lost" fan when I was introduced to the DVR during my freshman year of high school, re-watching episodes with my dad to search for clues. College mandated a regimen of streaming, which most likely was—and is—detrimental to my GPA. Each of these seemingly game-changing innovations has coincided with crucial transitions in my life, following me from school to school as I took on increasing levels of responsibility and independence. Perhaps that’s why I feel so personally connected to television. It grew as I grew, changing and evolving to compensate for an ever-increasing lack of free time.
Today’s college-aged students have probably seen more change in television viewing habits during their lifetimes than any other demographic. Theoretically, we’ve gained much more control over our time because of these changes. Our evenings aren't monopolized by our favorite TV shows anymore. Paradoxically, time-shifting devices have us wasting more time than ever. Netflix, Hulu, OnDemand and their ilk steal our time in an entirely different way. No longer are we confined to primetime; any second of any day can be claimed by internet TV. I thought that when I came to college I would have to relinquish most of my television-obsessed habits, but instead I have morphed into a chronic binge-watcher, spending my weekends marathoning the shows I can’t squeeze into my weekday schedule.
Anticipation should be part of the experience of television, and of life. This week, I asked a mother of two boys, in all seriousness, how her children will learn patience if they don’t watch commercials. 'Kids these days' watch TV entirely differently than we did. Can children even get excited about the release of the newest Disney Channel Original Movie when they know it will be OnDemand whenever they want? What would it even be like to not have to beg your parents to sacrifice a night of their own favorite shows? While it may seem odd to romanticize things as trivial as commercial breaks or appointment viewing, this loss has stolen some of the charm away from the viewing experience. Back in the good ol' days (fewer than 10 years ago), you had to bargain and persuade for what you wanted since you could only watch one show at one specific time. We’ve lost the excitement of following a show, anticipating its weekly airing and bemoaning its hiatus.
Yes, you could still anticipate last night's "Nashville" season premiere. But if you forgot (though how could you, really?), there are an infinite number of ways to catch up on it. TV just isn’t special anymore. It’s right there in your laptop whenever you want it. Apart from live sports, it’s rare to find people gathered in a common room watching a show they all follow. We watch TV on our own time, tethered to our own devices, losing the direct sense of togetherness created by sharing a space with friends, family and television. And don’t try to tell me live-tweeting is the same thing.
Fourteen years since I first fell in love with television, Wednesdays have taken on an entirely different meaning in my life. I did, after all, renounce "Survivor" after its 20th season. Now Wednesdays are the nights that I spend at the Chronicle office until 2 a.m., preparing for the week’s issue of Recess, spinning in my chair and pretending that I’m important. I feel busy. We’re Duke students. We all do—or, at least, we pretend we do.
But as busy as we all are, this isn’t an argument to stop watching television. As much as E! tries to convince us otherwise, television is an art form. It deserves our devotion and our attention. Don’t just watch TV because it’s accessible. Watch it because you love it.
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