My Own Lost Post-Mortem

Let me start off with this: I do not regret watching Lost. And the finale did not suck. Much like the whole series, it was in turn touching and fun and exciting and hilarious. There was good acting, compelling stories, big questions, challenging narrative. It was good goddamn TV.

That said, I'm sticking with my feelings that the end (I can't call it a resolution) was unbelievably cheap.

There seems to be some debate about whether the show was plot- or character-driven. Here's my contention: it was both plot- and character-driven. Until the last 15 minutes of the series when the show patted us all on the head and said "shhh, honey, it's ok. The plot's not important."

I'm all for a macguffin or two, a cool unanswered question that you can ponder for the ages (I think it was Marcellus' soul in the briefcase). But it's just not cool to take all that awesome sci-fi PLOT stuff and toss it out the window with a "this doesn't matter."

The numbers, the island's glowing vagina of electromagnetic power, the super specialness of Walt and Aaron and Desmond, THE NUMBERS, the temple, the fertility stuff, the dharma initiative, the donkey wheel, have I mentioned the numbers?... in the end, none of that mattered? Not cool, Lost. Not cool.

Because you know what, bitches? It mattered to me. I'll give you some unanswered questions - but not all of them. Only The Sopranos can do that.

I believed the writers that they'd had it all mapped out and knew what it all meant. And instead, it was all just tricks and manipulation.

They were fun tricks and manipulation. I enjoyed the hell out of the tricks and the manipulation. But the next scifi/mysticism show that I watch had BETTER pay some expository, resolution-oriented attention to the sci-fucking-fi part of it. Or else, by golly, I'll be writing an angry letter or something.

I will miss those characters. And I'm glad they're up in their inter-religious heaven having been led there by someone named Christian Shepard (sheesh - I mean, why not Desmond leading them? Was it because it didn't matter that he wasn't super special after all? God.). I'll miss all of them. Even Waaaaalt. Who doesn't get to go. Why? It doesn't matter. And Penny, who was never on the island. Why? It doesn't matter. Shhh. It was a character-driven show. Plot doesn't matter.

Actually, I won't miss Shannon. I never bought her backstory anyway.

*Edited - My friend, Shanon (not to be confused with Shannon of the unbelievable backstory who was also most definitely NOT Sayid's great love because, duh, that was Nadia. God), pointed out that the Lost finale was a very effective finale for the last season of Lost. But not the full six seasons. I think that's hitting the nail right on the head.

Why It's Not Pitiful To Spend Your Whole Day Looking Forward to Watching Lost on Hulu

Oh, you guys, it's getting to the point where I'm spending most of my days looking forward to the last waking hour and a half of the day because that's when I have a drink and watch Lost. This makes it sound like I have a really miserable life. Like, I'm walking around, groaning, thinking "8 hours to bourbon and Lost!" Which, well, sometimes, I am. But, that doesn't mean I'm not a generally cheery person. Like, at work, I'm getting BEAT UP with support requests. Every hour something else pops into my in box. But one of the benefits of doing the same job for ten years is that I can handle almost all of them, and the ones I can't I know who to ask. Besides almost all my customers know how much I hate the phone now so it almost never rings anymore. (me and Patrick Stewart both hate the phone - we should be best friends).

And, sure, my Wii Fit Plus still claims I'm old and fat, but on two different occasions on two different days two different men said to me "Girl, you're pretty" and it was only creepy once.

And, yeah, I did hit a bad patch this afternoon while working on my book (which is set in 1991) because I realized that 1991 is to 1965 what 2010 is to 1984 and that did more to make me feel old than any bullshit Wii Fit Plus body test because in 1991, 1965 was a loooooong time ago. But 1984 was just a few years back. That said, the book is still coming along nicely.

Of course, f I do have this wretched horrible commute. But it gives me time to have deep conversations with Laney like the one we had on the way home tonight. We'd just got done singing that Shel Silverstein song about Noah and the Unicorn (green alligators and long necked geese...) and...

She said: What's that song about?
And I said: Noah. Have I never told you about Noah?
And she said: No
[so I told her]
And she said: is that true?
And I said: No, it's like a folk story
And she said: Oh, you're just saying that because you don't believe in God.
And I said: Nuh uh!
And she said: Uh huh!
And I said: Look, tons of people who DO believe in God don't think the story of Noah really happened.
And she said: Really?
And I said: Yes, they accept it as something that has meaning outside literal truth
And she said: Well, how do you know it's not true?
And I said: Well, one boat couldn't hold two of all the animals in the world. I mean, think of the dogs alone! You've got beagles and labradors and chihuahuas and great danes
And she said: I like beagles and labradors and chihuahuas
And I said: What about the great danes?
And she said: What if there was more than one boat?
And I said: Like an armada of arks?
And she said: What's an armada?

But I didn't answer because i was too busy thinking that Ark Armada is the GREATEST BAND NAME EVER.

Anyway, Laney's asleep dreaming of an Ark Armada and I'm regretting that I never got the band together and should be watching Lost and having a drink, but instead I'm having a drink and writing on this little bloggity. And I'm going to stop that now. And watch Lost. And, dammit, I'm not going to forget about the four toed collapsed statue. Or the damn polar bears.

ARK ARMADA ROCKS!!!!!!

Namaste and good luck.

Signs You Are Watching Too Much Lost, 1

On Saturdays, I drop Laney off at her Mandarin class and then head over to Panera Bread where I work on my book. I love this time, since it's about the most uninterrupted I can expect to be throughout the week and get most of my quality writing done here.

This morning, I went to the bathroom before ordering and into the stall with the baby changing station. This is the one I usually use, because I can pull the changing table down and set my laptop on it, which strikes me as a better alternative than the floor. So, I pulled the table down and rested my purse and laptop on it and commenced the process of peeing. I looked up at the changing table. Someone had written "The information you requested..." on the side of the changing station in a position that only someone using the toilet would be able to see it.

This struck me as WILDLY portentous.

And then I went to buy my bagel and diet coke and the guy who waited on me was named... (dun dun duuuuuun)... Sayid!

Because I have watched at least two episodes of Lost a night, almost every night, for the past two weeks, I'm now pretty sure that this either means something significant or I am a player in Hurley's twisted catatonic dreams.

Or that I'm watching too much Lost.