The Hardest Thing I Ever Had to Write...

...Is this blog post. Why? Because it means I've finally gathered my thoughts, gotten over the initial shock, dried my eyes, and accepted the fact that LOST is over. My professors will be happy to know that my thesis papers and short stories were walks in the park compared to the emotional vulnerability I have explored to get here.

However, I have to admit that I was a little skeptical about the finale before it aired. In fact, I had a post in my draft box urging America not to get their hopes up because ultimately we'd all be left saying: "eh?" I mean, the island is just a place that holds beautiful light and Jacob is nothing more than a glorified lighthouse keeper? Fuck. That. If that's the case, then I know someone who could do that job ten-fold... Lloyd Christmas. He's got enough gas to blue-dart that fiery hole till the polar bears come home.

Alright, enough with the negativity. In truth, the finale to me was more perfect than Taylor Lautner's washboard abs. So what do we know? Well most notable... the island is real life, sideways world is purgatory, and Ben is not going to heaven. It's perfect--absolutely perfect. This whole time everyone is asking "what is the island? what is the island?" when in fact, they should really be asking "what is this sideways world?" Of course the island is real life... this was the writers final "F-U" moment. How dare we ever doubt them; Shame. On. Us.

Alas in true LOST fashion, I'm still left with questions. Please feel free to comment with your thoughts, though I will most likely disregard them:

-Question #1: What the hell is up with Eloise Hawkins? She's about... hmm... 38-million-years old and hasn't made it to the afterlife? Is she just waiting around to kick it with Faraday while he commissions more has-been bands to accompany his mediocre piano playing? Perhaps she's waiting around till Charles pays his dues (Lord knows that guy doesn't have a first class ticket on the streets paved with gold).

-Question #2: Why am I the only person that thinks that showing the plane destruction after the credits meant something? There was not one person in sight yet all the wreckage was there. If memory serves me correctly, the passengers used all the materials to build rafts and shelters. Were they just trying to screw with our minds?! Probably...

-Question #3: Just because Walt went through puberty shouldn't mean he is now deprived of going to heaven with everyone. Sure, I bet he yanked the snake a little too often after leaving the island, but comeon'. Poor guy.

-Question #4: Do you think the amount of lines shared between Boone and Shannon at the end was directly proportionate to how much they were liked on set? After meeting Ian Somerholder I can say with confidence that he is as douchey as they come. Just something to think about...

Ugh! Now what? Every Tuesday I will have a hole in my heart until I too get to walk into the bright, white light. Jack, take me with you!

I guess I'll just have to start from the beginning, reliving the love, the loss, and all things smoky. I'll miss you, LOST!!

Am I Living on the Island?

A lot of weird shit happens to me. It's probably because of my paralyzing fear of birds. They know all my secrets and use their powers of flight to create oddly ironic instances in my daily life. I'd like to think of a better reason as to why I witness 89% of all the crazy in the world... but I just can't. Any help would be well appreciated.

Here's an example: This weekend it was about 98045209580 degrees in Manhattan (not an exaggeration) and my 90283042980293802 year-old building (okay, a little bit of an exaggeration) heats up like an easy-bake-oven. So when I had this brilliant idea to move into the city on a pauper's salary, I never factored in that an air conditioning unit would bring my monthly spending from "barely" affordable to "stop-eating-you-penniless-ingrate" affordable. So as I sat in a pool of sweat in front of the industrial fan, I turned on the TV for some Seinfeld. You're probably asking yourself where the irony is here? The episode was about Jerry's parents refusing to use the air conditioner. I really didn't think much of it...

...That is until How I Met Your Mother came on. In the episode, Robyn's new manfriend asks her to move in with him. What a coincidence! My manfriend did too. Now, Robyn made the big-girl decision to ditch her friends and move in with the universe's biggest vagina. I'm sorry did I say big-girl? I mean big stumbling idiot. Granted my only friends aren't all ex-boyfriends of mine so the plot line differs quite a bit... but STILL! Is the universe trying to tell me something? Should I find NPH and make him my GBFF or something? I really didn't think much of it...

...That is until I found a bomb on my submarine! I mean WHAT ARE THE CHANCES!

Okay. In truth, the only reason why I posted this blog was because I've been listening to Alanis all day and needed an excuse to include this throw-back-vid somehow. Enjoy!

What the Flocke?!

The following post is lovingly dedicated to Kerry Miller Kearney... My great former boss who really loves her LOST.

When I was in the 1st grade, our school participated in one of those dumb-ass wrapping paper sales. You remember them; you'd go around to all of your neighbors showing them swatches of snowmen and the star of David but your parents would end up buying a decade's supply of paper just so you could get your prize of a pencil case and matching stationery? Well, this particular year I was on FIRE; selling wrapping paper like that shit was going to fuel the modern economy. Needless to say I had a great prize selection that year: a clear plastic phone and one of those magic doodle pens that made you write all scribbly (further research would show that these pens are in fact called "scribble spiral pens." I'm no longer impressed).

My teacher, Mrs. Foley, told me to follow my heart and choose the phone because it was what I really wanted. I, however, doubted her and believed my parents would never have the phone cord wired into my bedroom (don't ask me how I knew this at age 6). So I made my decision despite my teacher's advisement, handed in my envelope, and said goodbye to my life with an awesome, see through, light-up, big girl phone. Later that day I went home and found a phone cord popping out from the corner of my bedroom. OH THOU CANNOT DOUBT THOSE WHOM THEY ARE MEANT TO TRUST!!!

This analogy isn't really working, is it? Yeah I didn't think so...

Well after I picked up all the pieces of myself off the floor, cried a thousand tears for Sayid, Jin, Sun, and Lapidus (okay... maybe not so much Lapidus) and stipped naked to sleep comfortably in my 800-degree apartment (that last part probably didn't need to be shared), I started thinking about where this show is going. And while I can't fully answer that question in confidence yet... I think I'm starting to get somewhere.

Unless you're one of those people that believes the island is a hologram sent from the planet Xenon to sabotage mankind, you've realized the basics: the story of LOST is a story of contradictions, between good and evil, fate and happenstance, and God and nothingness. I'm crossing my fingers that good wins out in the ultimate battle here, but it's pretty clear that we're looking good in terms of fate and God. How do I know this? From Jack's enlightened change of heart.

And Flocke? Well that sonofabitch is undoubtedly the sneaky serpent, Lucifer. For a hot second there he had me charmed... but it all goes to show how deceiving evil can really be. It does make my heart extra happy, however, that Sayid never was fully "taken" by the flockeness monster. And of course by extra happy I mean victorious because I knew all along he couldn't be tricked. How... HOW is this show going to go on without him?!

Speaking of which, how is the show going to go on without Jin and Sun either?! I mean... kill me slowly, JJ, they BOTH had to die!? They have a baby! Sure, sure it was romantic and Titanic-esque that they couldn't live without each other. But here's the thing, Jin, Sun lived just fine without you.

Oh well, who am I to judge in the name of rational thought? I just spent the latter part of the hour seeing how many individual grains of rice I can fit on a fork spoke. That's not a lie. Speaking of which... I have a lunch to eat. Later, Others.

Just Like That, Eh?

I've always held a soft spot in my heart for JJ Abrams. No, it's not because he gave me Desmond, but because he's never compromised America's intelligence. In fact, in a number of interviews, LOST writers have said that one of the aims of the show was to never doubt the viewer's problem solving intellect. Welp... that is until now.

(The following is a dramatization... but it might as well have been lines straight out of the show):

Hurley: "You're stuck here because of what you did, aren't you?"

Michael: "Yes"

Hurley: "And there's more like you--And you guys are the whispers?"

Michael: "Yup"

Jack: "So you were my Dad?"

Flocke: "Yep"

Oh hey, thanks for the heads up, guys. I mean, in the final episode are we to expect that the island's purpose is spelled out in Q&A form, all black and white and dumbed down for America? According to last week's issue of Wired, at the end of its season, LOST viewers will either say "Wow, that was cool" or "Wow, fuck those guys."

My guess is that my reaction will be a bit different. For me, every time a show that I'm so full-heartedly invested in draws its curtains, I go into mourning. It's true... when Friends ended I cried for a straight 48 hours. Boy Meets World? I couldn't eat for a week. Then when ABC cancelled Dirty Sexy Money and Samantha Who, I tried to bomb Disney World. Well not really... only in my mind.

But after the tears subside, I suspect that my reaction will be 98% angry and 2% unimpressed. Why you ask? Because a reveal the magnitude of what this show deserves is pretty much impossible. Unless Sawyer physically walks out of the screen shirtless, sits next to me on my living room couch and explains to me in detail all the secrets of the island, nothing would do it justice.

There's only a few new episodes left, people... better start mentally preparing yourselves now. How am I doing it? Well I try to search for answers in all of my surroundings. For example, right now I'm sitting in Starbucks, creepily staring at my venti cup. Have you ever noticed that the Starbucks logo draws striking similarities to the Dharma Initiative symbol? And the barista! That bitch has got some serious tude... I bet she's been claimed by the dark side!

Ok, now I'm starting to lose it and there's not even a new episode on tonight! Someone pray for me...

Well That Sucks...

Ever have that nauseous anxiety that happens when you're trying so desperately to get somewhere and things just keep getting in the way? Yeah... It blows. Now, imagine that you're Jin, the place you're trying to get to is Pumptown, and you can't find your wife to get there because you're both on two opposite sides of the universe's most effed-up island.

But then it gets worse; it would appear that you not only have geography working against you, but also fate. Wednesday's episode was another one of those lessons on how "you can't change your destiny" blah blah blah. Well I for one think that's a buttload of boohockey. How can Jin and Sun not be meant to be together? I mean, did you SEE the chemistry during that sexytime scene? (That was certainly long overdue). And then... BANG! Down goes Sun. Poor lost lovers--that's a mean case of blue balls.

Interestingly enough, all my favorite LOST men presented themselves in the best possible light last episode: Jin shirtless, Sayid wet, and Desmond drunk... Well sort of? Regardless, thank God Desmond's back. Oh how I've missed my Scottie hottie. Speaking of which, can we discuss the irony of Desmond being "the package?" Yeaaahhhh he is--the whole package. Hell, I'd unwrap that sexy piece of man candy on my doorstep any day of the week.

Ricky Ricardo

Every Wednesday it's the same routine: Go to work. Talk about LOST. Try to do work but can't because you're thinking about LOST. Talk about LOST some more. Go to happy hour. Stumble home. Try to re-watch LOST drunk...

Last Wednesday my co-workers and I started talking about what our parallel LOST worlds would be like. You know... if that pivotal life-changing moment never happened (i.e. "your island") and you continued to live your life as you would have. One of my friends said his "island" was coming out of the closet, so in his parallel world he would still be living in Virginia Beach, pretending to like girls but really dreaming of Chase Crawford. Another friend admitted that her "island" was moving from Texas to New York. She still says y'all and frequents Texas Independence Day concerts so her parallel world would look a lot like this one... minus the surplus of skyscrapers and metrosexuals.

Then it was my turn. An event that altered the intricate fibers of my future, eh? Was it being pantsed in the 6th grade? My freshman 20? The day I decided to top a cream cheese bagel with tomato sauce? (Don't knock it 'till you've tried it). Nope... none of the above would really have changed life as I know it. Maybe I haven't landed on my island yet. Or maybe... I'm a Richard.

Like Richard, or as we learned last week, Ricardo, my parallel life is identical to my current one. See, because Richard is about one trillion years old, his island life began decades before the days of Dharma or Oceanic flight 815. Poor little guy; living an infinite life on the worlds creepiest island without his wifey or any known nookie for that matter. There's a new special place in my heart for Ricardo. His sad little puppy dog story and Spanish accent is really boosting up his sex appeal.

Which brings me to my next point: When is Ricardo gonna get any? I mean, the poor bastard has lived far too long in his physical prime to be deprived of any hot island action. What's not to love? His mysteriousness? His fluent Spanish? His eyelashes that would bring Madonna to tears? Yep... he's the whole package. But who on the island has the sexual prowess to satiate the needs of man who's had blue balls for nearly two centuries? Well, there's only one real answer here: Ilana. Girlfriend sure knows her way around a gun and could probably benefit from getting laid. I say it's a win win for both parties! Someone alert J.J. Abrams...

The Soundtrack to My Nightmares

You know you're a couple episodes into a season of LOST when your dreams stop resembling sexual fantasies about Chuck Bass and begin to resemble hardcore acid trips.

The other night I dreamed that I was walking down a city block lined with dead bodies. Every time I walked passed one, he or she would come back to life and continue about their business. Then Katherine McPhee and I walked into a house where all the bodies were naked ladies. They started coming to life and doing dishes and making coffee... in the nude of course. As this was all happening, Katherine got scared that her father was going to come back and kill her, so I distracted everyone by doing a tap dance.

While this dream might not scream J.J. Abrams to you, it's a subtle reminder that this show will seriously eff with your subconscious brain activity. Take Tuesday night for example--arguably the BEST episode of LOST in quite some time. It's now confirmed that the island is a battleground between good and evil, and we're slowly but surely losing all the besties to the dark side. Claire, whose season 6 return is a huge step up from her wonderbread performance during seasons 1-4, has become smokey's lap dog. And now Sayid? Sexy Sayid? He's sure gonna be a seriously bad-ass edition to Faux-Locke's (aka "Flocke's") arsenal of evil.

Now, I'm especially convinced that this past episode was incredible, not only because I still have chills, but because every time I hear "Catch a Falling Star" I start to twitch. There you have it, folks... the new soundtrack to my nightmares. Undoubtedly the creepiest song out there. Don't think so, eh? Well watch the below and then decide:

Intelligence LOST

While most of you probably think I am a genius, you may be surprised to learn that my intelligence is just slightly above average. So while there is a strong possibility that I am significantly smarter than you (statistically, of course), there's a bunch of people out there a lot smarter than me. Hey, just stating facts here, people.

It's pretty evident, however, that I am not of Einstein intellectual standing when I watch LOST. 9 out of every 10 episodes I watch reminds me of something that I should remember but can't. For example, a friend of mine informed me that in the show's pilot episode, Jack leaves the voice mail played on Wednesday before Oceanic 815 ever leaves Australia. Yeah, don't lie... you didn't remember that either.

So what are we to make of this? Either that Jack is a shady, son-hiding bastard who has pretended to be childless this whole time (let's not forget that Jack told Hurley on Wednesday that he had no kids and would make a terrible father), or his fate has been completely clusterfucked now that the island no longer exists in this parallel universe. If the latter is holding true, things aren't looking too shabby for Jack... or Hurley for that matter.

But things are looking pretty dreary for some of their passenger-mates. Gin? He's about as good as anally raped at this point in parallel-world time. You know homebody is headed straight for jail. It's cool, though... Charlie's there too; I guess he's probably regretting that whole smuggling heroin on an airplane thing right about now.

Now on to those I can't quite figure out. Kate? Well she's back on the run, but the real question is: does she like it? See, Kate's probably as domestic as a dingo--there's a very strong possibility that she loves her life on the edge. I don't know how well this new life is working out for Claire, either. Poor girl gets held hostage, then stranded, then her baby gets rejected, and then BOOM! Ethan is her doctor? Sure, you'd think "ick," but these unfortunate circumstances have left Claire weirdly smiley... a striking contrast from her nutso island counterpart.

And then we have Locke. Sure, in a wheelchair. Sure, fired from his job. But he's planning a wedding with his live-in lova. I'm thinking that means regular BJ's for the dude so he can't be terribly unhappy. Who knows... it's a hard Locke life.

The Creepiest of Inhabitants

Not-so-bold-statement: A lot of creepy shit happens on LOST. In fact, whenever I watch an episode by myself I immediately need to follow it up with a Friends DVD. Polar bears in the jungle? Dead people showing up unannounced? A dude that never ages and always appears to be wearing eyeliner? ...Yeah, it's freaky stuff. But the creepiest aspect of the show is its nature to provoke thought; let me tell you, my mind is a twisted and scary place to spend a lot of time in.

Second to that, in my opinion, the creepiest of all creeps ever to step foot on the island are all under the age 12. Yep, kids. Kids are pretty freaking scary. No wonder why single ladies fear pregnancy--you need a man committed to you by vows under God to serve as a buffer. Think about it: The Orphan... The Ring... The Omen... anything that a young Dakota Fanning starred in? All proof that the littlest of people stir the biggest of chills.

This fact particularly holds true when it comes to LOST. In all five-and-some seasons, the one character that still gives me the heebie jeebies on command is Walt. Having trouble recalling the extent of his creepiness? Let me remind you that birds committed suicide in his presence, marriages broke up because of his mysteriousness, and it was Walt who summoned the polar bears to the island. Not only that, but he appeared to a dying Locke and has since been going through a particularly awkward phase of puberty.

My next example is sort of a covert creep; an under-the-radar-conductor-o-terror, if you will. I'm referring to Aaron, baby creep extraordinaire. Let's not forget what Claire's psychic predicted: if left in the wrong hands Aaron could bring the world to an end. Plus all of that poking and prodding and plane crashing that happened to him while in the womb must not have done him well either. Hmm... yep, that qualifies him as first-class creepster in my book.

Boys and girls, what we've learned thus far is that creepiest knows an age... and that age is youth. Even the two little kids from the back of the plane that were kidnapped by the others in Season 2 scare the poop out of me. And they didn't even talk! Slightly past a ripe, young age but another example nonetheless is Alex, Rosseau's birth spawn and Ben's adopted daughter. She pops up out of no where and is a little too anxiety-ridden for my liking, but more than that, Alex is a prime case of creepy face. Call me superficial, but if I gave birth to that, I'd put her back in.

This all brings me to my final point. Who the hell was the creepy bloody child from Tuesday night's episode? Why can't Richard see him? Why can Sawyer? Is he a young Jacob? Or a 'referee' in this twisted little game Jacob and the Man in Black are playing? Why can he tell smokey/Locke what to do? Most importantly... why does this show continue to keep me up at night fearful that scary little children are going to show up in my room in the middle of the night?

What I Would Rather be Doing Today...

For me, city snowfalls are about as appealing as taking a cheese grater to my nipples. Streets are cleared in about .5 seconds and you're left with brown sludge that will never prevent you from going to work, but will definitely make your commute 10x times more miserable. Disagree? Well then you can suck it-- that either means you got to stay home today or that you're too dumb to be granted an opinion.

So, as I sat in my cubical on this crappy day, I began to think about all the other things I would rather be doing: having a snow ball fight in Central Park, watching people trip outside my building, making yellow snow... you know... the usual. But above all I would rather be roasting on an island beach... (Watch out--here comes the segue)... via Oceanic Flight 815.

A friend of mine has made it her mission to watch Lost from the show's season 1 beginnings. I'm pretty jealous... not because she has all the DVDs and something to do for the next hundred years, but because her experience of Lost has yet to be adulterated by the boundless labyrinth of mind games. See, I never asked questions when polar bears showed up on the island, or when Libby was revealed as a patient in an insane asylum, or the fact that Hurley has been able to remain rotund after over five seasons on an island--but creepy Ethan shows up as Claire's doctor in LA? Let's all say it together... WTF.

"I just don't want to have to stick you with needles if I don't have to." HA. Ethan, I reserve the right as a loyal viewer to never have to hear you say "stick you" ever again. That guy sends more chills down my spine than the snowpocalypse. It's interesting though, in season one Ethan was with Claire moments before she went into labor and Kate delivered the baby. How nice for them to share that moment off island. Coincidence? I think not.

I'm equally as perturbed with this "darkness" nonsense. First it claims poor sweet Claire and then Sayid? Correction... nothing "claims" Sayid. Sayid is bad ass to the inner workings of his soul; I have to believe that his cells will torture and take out any enemy threat. And another question: if one who is dead can be "claimed," does that mean that Claire had died at one point? And speaking of dead people, it's nice to know that Rousseau is a walking corpse. Has she been a carnation of the man in black this whole time? Holy hell what is this place?

Of all the questions I have from last night's episode, my most serious question is this: Did the casting director really think that we could take the guy from Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia seriously as a gun-yielding other with the name "Aldo?" On that note...