September 8, 2013
I finally finished the entire Lost series, and I have to say, I didn’t expect the ending to be so incredibly moving. No, seriously.
But now, every time I think of Sun and Jin, I want to cry! What’s THAT about? And don’t even get me started on Locke.
Oh, crap. No, I just have a little something in my eye, I swear. (Shut up.)
I hate submarines!
I’m sure I’ll be able to formulate a more coherent narrative of my thoughts at some point, once I’m able to finally let go of the feelings swirling about in my brain, of loss and pain, of eternal love, of forgiveness and redemption… But for now, I’ll just focus on the last frame of that final scene, the very last moment, and try to believe.
Everything’s gonna be okay.
August 30, 2013
Overheard conversation between my 15-year-old daughter and one of her friends:
Mack: Yeah, she was with me when I drank, like, four bottles of Mountain Dew.
Mack’s Friend: Well, that can’t be good for you!
Mack: I know, but, you know, that’s what all cool kids are drinking these days…
Mack’s Friend: No, the cool kids are drinking something else.
And B, is it strange that this quick, completely random conversation caused a sudden and unreasonably powerful surge of happiness within me?
August 20, 2013
Confession: Up until two weeks ago, I had never, ever watched an episode of Lost. Not one. Unless you count that one time years ago when Paige made me watch an episode with her, which I don’t, because it was like, the middle of season 5 or something and let’s face it– even with her stellar running commentary to guide me I had NO FREAKING IDEA what the hell was going on. I mean, honestly. What. The. Hell?
(Seriously. Are they in hell? NO! Don’t tell me! DON’T TELL ME! But is it hell? Seems like hell. Or purgatory. Or limbo. I need to brush up on my theology. But don’t tell me.)
It wasn’t a conscious choice on my part to shun the show or anything. No, indeed. I just hadn’t seen it from the beginning, so I missed out on a lot of the culture. You know how it is. Then I heard talk of polar bears and hatches and a bald dude named Locke– which, intriguing?– but by the time season three rolled around I was feeling super stubborn and just didn’t feel like being a joiner.
(Seriously. Why is there a polar bear in hell? I’m only asking. Wait! NO! Don’t tell me! It’s probably not even hell. I’m just spitballing here…)
So I totes missed the boat.
(Get it? Missed the BOAT? Like, “Yay! A boat! We’re saved! Just joking, evil people are going to steal our babies and shoot us and blow up our handmade boat! Nooooo!”?)
Then? THEN?! Along comes Netflix, with all the seasons of Lost, just right there, and BOOM. I’ve spent the past several evenings yelling “What the WHAT?!” and “Sawyer sucks!” and “OMG! What?! Just?! HAPPENED?!” and “Michael! NOOOO!!” at my TV. My throat hurts, my kids think I’m crazy(er), my dreams are FUNKY, but I can’t stop watching. For reals.
(Okay. It’s hell or an alternate dimension. I’m just saying. This is J.J. Abrams, after all. Hey. I’ve seen Alias. I’ve seen Fringe. Dude lives for that stuff. But DON’T TELL ME! Don’t even.)
So… tonight I’m watching the Season 2 finale. It’s a two-parter! Woot! There will be popcorn and chocolate treats involved! And a beverage of some sort! I hope Michael dies! Because he KILLED Libby! Hurley’s LIBBY! And Ana Lucia! Also, so I don’t have to hear “Waaaalt! Waaaaaaaalt!” anymore! Good LORD, man. S that D! Shut it down.
I know, I know. I need help, y’all. I’m utterly, irrevocably Lost.
Edited to add: TD is watching with me, and what with me asking him, “What just happened?! Huh?! No! Don’t tell me!” and punching him in the arm at the end of each episode yelling “WHAT?!”, I’m fairly certain it’s his favorite time with me ever! Yep. We’re building memories here.
August 2, 2013
Okay. I admit. I’m a worrier. I worry! About things! Okay, about all the things! You know how people can read a book and put it down. Me? I read the seventh Harry Potter book in one night. ONE NIGHT! That freaking book is a bajillion pages long! But I had to KNOW. Honestly. And don’t even get me started on how stressed out I get when I do an Alias or Veronica Mars marathon! (Cliffhangers are evil. I’m only saying.) It can take me literally hours to stop worrying about the characters in which I have invested my time. I feel their pain, their joy, their despair, their triumphs. So you can imagine the impressive scope of my worrying abilities when real people are involved.
All I’m saying is I may–perhaps!–be known to freak out on occasion. So, want to know what will for sure freak out the momma? But also totally make her proud? Effectively causing her to both freak the freak out AND fairly burst with pride?
Super proud, TD! Just remember, son. Myocardial infarction is no one’s friend.
July 15, 2012
You know how sometimes you hear a seemingly throwaway quote– a line in a movie, a voice-over on a television show– that catches your attention, I mean really grabs you when you least expect it, just sneaks up and has you by the short hairs before you even know it, and it hurts, because it burns into your brain and soul, and it doesn’t let go? Ever? You know how that happens?
No? Me neither. That’s so totally weird.
But if that were to happen, not that it did, because apparently that is not a “thing,” I’m just saying if it WERE in fact a thing, then this quote from In Plain Sight (thank you, Netflix!)– which, super good show, by the way, I am NOT even kidding, but it’s over now and why didn’t anyone tell me about it, because RUDE?– well, you could say it still has a mighty firm grip on me, a figurative vice-grip tightening on my poor short hairs which is not a pleasant feeling, I tell you what:
Mary Shannon: [voice-over] We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the rest of the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it, others because they don’t like being seen. And then there are the special cases, the ones who hide because… because… because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.
And while you may read this and wonder, What is she on about? Well, first of all, have you met me? And B, it’s the damnedest thing because I know I can’t ever go back to NOT understanding that I… well, I’m one of the special cases. And honestly? I don’t know what to do with that.
Seriously. What do I do with that?
Yep. Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking Diet Dr. Pepper.
And with that lame (but, come on, still funny) play on the classic Airplane bit… Cat out.