Lost without u

All my friends.

All my friends.

Possible spoilers ahead. You’ve been warned. 

If you had even one conversation with me between the beginning of November and the middle of January, you will know the following: I could not shut up about Lost. Perhaps I was a little late on the bandwagon, but that obviously did not lessen my enthusiasm – for a person who usually gets sucked into NBC primetime comedies, Lost surprised me with its undeniable ability to rope me in. I was up to six or seven episodes a day over winter break, which admittedly isn’t the most destructive habit a person can form, but I think we can all agree it isn’t the most productive either.

Well, I finally got to the end a couple weeks ago. I sat on the couch, curled up into a ball of anxiety and anticipation, all of my “OH MY GODs” muffled through my Spider-Man blanket. I had watched Part I of the finale the night before, and I was still in the process of finding my way through the emotional wreckage that Sun and Jin’s deaths caused. Needless to say, I was expecting tears and, more importantly, I was expecting my mind to be blown. My sister and I had come up with multiple theories throughout the series – they’re all actually in purgatory, this whole thing is just Hurley’s schizophrenia, etc. – so I was clearly hoping for something crazy and outlandish, for something that would make me say my most-uttered phrase of the past few months: “J.J. Abrams, pullin’ some shit.” Well. I don’t know about everyone else, but I was relatively unimpressed with the shit our friend J.J. pulled. The whole thing was real, most of the insane things that took place were explained; I wasn’t left confused about the details, major or minor, because reasons were given for basically everything. Except for a few things:

  1. Why, in the name of all that is holy, did Sayid never cut his fingernails?
  2. Why did no one ever bother to give the Man in Black an actual name, like Leonardo or Giorgio or something? No wonder he turned into a destructive pillar of black smoke, he had TWO MOMS and neither of them cared enough to give him a name. What did they call him as a baby, the Baby in Black? What did Jacob ever do to deserve a name?!
  3. Did you really need to kill off Boone so early on? (I think I speak for all when I say Ian Somerhalder’s unrivaled smolderhalder was sorely missed after season one)
  4. Soooo what was the overall purpose of the Dharma Initiative again?
  5. Finally, the big question. The Man in Black aka Smoke Monster becomes notorious for reanimating corpses and making them waltz around the island like normal people. For example, Jack’s dad – Christian Shephard’s coffin is found empty, and Jack sees him running through the trees or whatever. In this case, the black smoke takes over a dead body. HOWEVER, there is also the case of John Locke. Poor John remains in his coffin while a duplicate of his body houses the Smoke Monster. Eko’s brother, Yemi, is even more interesting. Yemi’s Nigerian drug plane crashed in the jungle in what I presume to be the early nineties, meaning he’s just a cobwebb-y skeleton by the time Eko finds his body. But then we see pre-mummified Yemi creepily staring at his brother through branches, skin and eyeballs and everything. His skeleton is still in the plane, but it has somehow been duplicated and restored by the Man in Black. Why are some bodies copied, while others are not? Did I find a really good plothole? I think I did.

All of that aside, I was disappointed for another reason. When I first started watching the show, I just kept thinking… wow. This is such an interesting portrait of humans and how they react to tragedy, individually and together. The first few seasons felt so full of humanness. Everyone was flawed, but they all had opportunities for their strengths to come through – there was love, there was anger, compassion, cynicism, hopefulness. Even though they were in kind of a crazy situation, the characters felt real to me, and they were certainly the main focus of the show. But after season three (or something close), I felt the gears shift ever so slightly. The purpose or “theme” of Lost got muddled and confused with all of these fancy time-travel schemes and so-called “history of the island” that I think the writers basically pulled out of their asses – they had also played with the idea of destiny before, which was really interesting, but then they just went wild with it later on. Maybe the creators were going for something more impressive and complicated, but I think people and their interactions and behaviors are impressive and complicated enough. I don’t know, maybe I’m just not a scifi person. But I was sad to see the profundity shrink in the midst of time flashes and thrown-together pairings.

Even though my incessant complaining makes it seem like I am pissed off, I’m really not. I was sad to finish the series, even if it didn’t go out with the bang I had hoped for. And in all honesty, I will probably watch the whole thing again because I’m just like that. So I guess *shout out* to Netflix for consuming my life, and to Olivia for being the kind of person who introduces you to drugs and then sits back and cackles maniacally as you spin out of control (just kidding, I like you and thanks for explaining everything that confused me). That, readers, is my take on Lost. Bam. See you later.


In which I stop living vicariously through TV characters.

Goodbye, you beautiful people.

Goodbye, you beautiful people.

I have received numerous complaints about the spoilers in this post, so – here you go – MAJOR SPOILER ALERT. (and my sincerest apologies to those of you whose lives were ruined because of me)

Last night marked the end of my pretend life on the Upper East Side. I’m not even all that sad to leave it behind, in fact I think my feelings would be better described as “disturbed” or “slightly angry.” However, before I go off on a rant – as I am wont to do – I will bring those of you who do not find joy in deliciously vapid television shows up to speed.

Really, you only need to know a few things. I will put them in list form because I love lists:

  • Gossip Girl is an anonymous blogger who stalks Manhattan’s trust fund babies.
  • Serena van der Woodsen is gullible but her hair is perfect.
  • Blair Waldorf is manipulative but her face is perfect.
  • Nate Archibald is never very important, but he has had a mysterious fat lip for like two seasons.
  • Chuck Bass used to be a borderline rapist and he kinda killed his dad.
  • Dan Humphrey is from Brooklyn and he’s a writer and I love him and he’s perfect except oh wait he’s Gossip Girl.

Also, I was kind enough to make this Diagram of Sex, Lies, and Romance for you:

Psh, love triangle? More like love googolplexagon.

Psh, love triangle? More like love googolplexagon.

Honestly, those are just the relationships I can remember off the top of my head. There are probably lots more. Damn those promiscuous teenagers!

Anyway, Dan was always the Good Guy, the humble and level-headed voice of reason through it all. Sure, he played a few ladies, but I still found a cozy little spot in my heart for him. He was smart and thoughtful. Or so I believed.

Evidently, Cierra believed wrong. Or the writers just pulled the ending out of thin air because they had nothing else… I haven’t exactly decided yet. But either way, I hate everything and I’m going to have stupid trust issues because of this show.

Not only did the only Good Guy turn out to be the Ultimate Bad Guy, but all of his friends and family were totally fine with it. You labeled me a Man Whore? No big deal. You leaked a video that ruined my wedding? Whatevs. You, in part, caused a life-threatening car crash? Don’t worry about it, it’s fine! Serena even ended up marrying him, even though his motives for the past six years were pretty questionable. She is the person he dissed the most – and it was all so he could be a part of a screwed-up inner circle. What the heck, Dan, what the heck.

Also, literally everyone ended up happy. They all screwed each other over and then lived happily ever after. Together. After they wrecked each others’ lives. I fail to see the logic in this.

The last thing I’d like to whine about is the implications from the series as a whole, taking the last episode especially into account. First of all, abuse is okay. Chuck sold Blair for a hotel, and they ended up blissfully married; Dan pretty much cyber-bullied Serena for six years, and hey, they ended up blissfully married too. No, just no. Another message I picked up on was pretty obvious: you’re nobody until you’re talked about. I mean, we are all smart enough to know this isn’t true, but the writers seriously just threw the idea out into the universe and then reinforced it by making Dan live it, and then giving him everything he ever wanted in the end. He really was a nobody until he was talked about (even though he was talking about himself…), and he wasn’t truly accepted into the aforementioned inner circle until he revealed he had been anonymously tearing them down for half a decade. That’s not how life works, Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage.

But as disappointed as I was with the rushed-ness and stupid-ness of the series finale, I will always love Gossip Girl (now alternately named Gossip Guy or Gossip Dan). The beautiful clothes, the New York scenery, the music… the actors and actresses who, admittedly, are not too hard on the eyes. As many others did, I really got sucked into that world. And it was nice; but I’m ready to leave now.

That is, till I go back and re-watch the series, imagining Gossip Girl’s commentary in Penn Badgley’s voice.