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Archive for the ‘Friends’ Category

Okay, the time has come. I’ve gotta write about Lost, especially after Tuesday night’s episode, “Happily Ever After.” I suppose at this point I should put in a Spoiler Warning, but…dude. Come on. If you haven’t caught up by now, in this pivotal time of Only A Few Remaining Episodes Before The End, you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself. Suck it up.

So the reason I’m writing about Lost for the first time in all these years, even though I’ve been a diehard fan since the very first episode, is because I nearly drowned in tears watching “Happily Ever After”…and because, to be totally self-centered for a moment (yeah yeah when is this blog not, but hey, when did I ever promise it was going to be about establishing peace in the Middle East?), the big revelation from the episode is one of only two things that I have EVER guessed right about this mindbender of a show.

The first one was that the island was a “cork” stoppering up…something bad, as explained by Jacob in the recent episode “Ab Aeterno,” and the second one was from Tuesday night. Yay me. I guess I’m a late bloomer, finally figuring things out at the very end. Or I need stuff handed to me on a platter. Whatev’.

The revelation that was in this most recent, Desmond-centric episode (yum) was one I had figured out a while back, but I thought “Naaahhh—can’t be.” But it was. And it was this: (more…)

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A friend of mine I’ve known most of my life once told me I tend to live my life in boxes.

She didn’t mean it in an accusatory way—there was no chastisement attached; she was just making an observation. And when I thought about it, I realized she was right: Whatever constitutes my life at any given time, I live in that box and nowhere else. Everything is in there, self contained: job, friends, mindset—all related—and all with sole influence over whoever I am at the time and whatever life lesson I’m learning. I throw myself into that box wholeheartedly, and I don’t look beyond what I’m doing right then.

And when that phase of my life ends, as it always does, I pack up the box, close up the flaps, tape it shut, and shove it away into my memory, which of course bears a remarkable resemblance to the government warehouse in the final scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I don’t look back (as far as anybody knows), I don’t get nostalgic; I remember the time fondly (or not so fondly) and move on to my next box, which I throw myself into wholeheartedly once again, with equal intensity to the previous box, soon to be matched in intensity for the following box.

Okay, enough about boxes. You get the idea.

I’ve never had a problem with living my life that way; I’ve always felt that when I’m done with a phase of my life, it’s okay to let it go. I learned whatever I was supposed to learn, or I did whatever job I was supposed to complete, or I helped someone I was supposed to help—I completed whatever task was required of me and I was free to go. You know—kind of like Sam Beckett in Quantum Leap. “I’m done; can I leap out now?” Mmm…Scott Bakula…

Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah.

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