Lost in “Lost”
Posted by Carol Starr Schneider on Feb 21st, 2008
Imagine a magnificent island full of polar bears, red cows, smoke monsters, time travelers and grungy crash survivors who haven’t showered in ages but still look sexy.
Picture a twisted dreamland where subversive references to all things biblical, literary, mythological and scientific make you question the worthiness of your college degree.
It’s Thursday night, it’s two minutes in, and I’m already feeling dumb. Walk by my bedroom door around 9ish, and you’ll hear me shouting at the TV.
What has happened to me? I sound like my husband when the Bruins are losing. I sound certifiably nuts.
“Hey!” my rant begins. There’s desperation in my voice. I’m lost in “Lost” and they haven’t even cut to the first commercial.
“What the #@=!’s going on? Who’s that guy? Where’d he get that gun? Is someone else going to die tonight?”
I get nothing back, not even a clue. I forge on.
“Whoa! What was that? A flash forward? A flashback? Help!”
My brain starts to hurt. They can’t be serious. Am I expected to figure this out on my own?
I admit it. My addiction to “Lost” is a sickness. There’s no cure. All I can do is keep watching like the junky I am, and hope that my neighbor Joe, a fellow “Lost” fanatic and all-round smart dude, will explain to me why halfway through the episode, the show looks like outtakes from “The Bourne Identity,” cross-pollinated with “Mission Impossible” and the final season of “Alias.”
Joe will figure it out. He better figure it out. He’s the only friend I have who still watches the show. Everyone else gave up early in the first season. “Lost” requires patience, fortitude and a strong belief system.
“Lost” is not for wimps.
I have no one to blame for this habit but myself. I got hooked all on my own. No one forced it on me. No one made me watch. I let it happen. I take full responsibility.
Oh, I couldn’t wait for the return of my favorite show. I was jonesing for it, alright. Counting the seconds till it came back to haunt me and throw me into a state of utter confusion.
Under normal circumstances, I don’t like feeling out of control. I want my plot points presented logically. I don’t like holes. I want the story to add up. I’ve never been into science fiction. Give me realism and I’m happy.
With “Lost,” I’m willing to suspend my disbelief. I never have any idea what’s going on and it feels wonderful. I highly recommend it. My delirium is liberating. I’m on a spiritual quest. This is my moment of Zen.
For once, not everything has to make sense. And “Lost” makes no sense at all. Of course, I’d like to think that at some point, around 2010 when the series ends, I’ll achieve some clarity. Enlightenment will descend all around me.
“Oh! Oh! OH! I get it now!” may spill from my lips.
Then again, I may wind up just as baffled as when this journey began. In which case, I may have to be committed. At least for awhile. Until the entire series comes out on DVD and I can watch the whole thing all over again.
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