Archive | July, 2012

Reflecting on Lost :: What Made it such a Great Show

24 Jul

I think it’s no secret that I love Lost. A lot. More than a lot. If I had to list my top ten favorite things on this planet, Lost would be one of them (along with, y’know, family and friends and Muppets and hamburgers). It’s a show I was with from beginning to end. Not only that, but it was my first real “adult” show that I ever partook in, as in the first show I tuned in once a week to watch that was not aimed solely towards kids/teenagers.

It’s been two years since Lost came to a close, and it’s been two years since I’ve really sat down and watched a entire episode (the last time I truly watched it was the beginning of summer 2010, when my ex was still going through it). Even after all this time, no show has replaced Lost for me. Not just yet. Sure, shows have tried and, hell, some shows have even come close. I recently went coocoo bananas for Breaking Bad (which I will go as far to say is the best written show I’ve ever seen), and I’ve also fallen desperately in love with shows such as Downton Abbey, Mad Men, Sherlock, Game of Thrones, and Shameless. All that being said, while those shows are all fabulous in and of their own way, they still have not replaced the love I have for Lost.

For starters, Lost is a show about characters through and through, and I’ve always been one for character-driven programs. With the exception of Nikki and Paulo (and Ethan. Christ, I hated Ethan), you gave a shit about pretty much every character on that show. Even when you declared hatred for characters (ie. Anna Lucia), you still were devastated when the unthinkable happened to them. I have never been invested in television characters quite the way I was when it came to Lost. True, maybe that’s because I was fourteen years old when the program came on, so I was still very young and clung to characters much more easily back then, but that’s the thing. I was fourteen when I started watching this show. I’m now twenty-two. This show, these characters, they’ve been with me for a third of my lifetime. Eventually I’ll be able to say that they’ve been with me for half my life (once I turn twenty-eight). That’s pretty incredible.

And, of course, Lost is the king of cliff hangers. My friend Nick was telling me how in almost every episode, in the last five minutes, they would throw something at you, which would leave you yelling, “Well fuck! Now I have to watch the next one!” This was something that I loved. I remember being a youngin’, my brother and I huddled around our TV back in Portland, the last five minutes would play, the “LOST” caption would appear, and we’d scream that they couldn’t just leave us like that. How many shows are capable of evoking such a reaction? Not many. Not just end of show cliff-hangers either. There were some magnificent reveals in many of the episodes. God knows the reveal in the third episode, ‘Walkabout’, is what hooked me for good.

It was also, of course, gorgeous to watch cinematography-wise. While some scenes were shot on a sound stage, there are so many beautiful on location shots. Not to mention this show will make sure you never look at an eye opening/closing the same way ever again.

Lost told a lot of beautiful stories as well. The way that the writers weaved all of these characters from all walks of life together was amazing. From Jack to Rose, Lapidus to Cindy, Juliet to Hurley, you got such a feel for where they came from, what they’d been through, and who they were.

Not to mention Lost also had Ben Linus, who is one of the most complex, brilliantly written characters in all of television history.

This whole scene in ‘Dr. Linus’ is why it’s among my all time favorite episodes of the series. Michael Emerson deserved more than just one Emmy.

Now, the reason why I’m writing up this entry is because of this clip. I came across a photoset of .gifs of the scene on tumblr last night, which led me to rewatching this particular moment, and I was overcome with such emotion. For those of you have not watched Lost, in the scene some of the guys discover a van on the island that doesn’t seem to run. So the four of them work together and, sure enough, are able to get that blue van to work once more. Here’s the response I wrote after I watched it last night:

Just… just the idea of them finding so much joy and freedom in making that car run. That’s what I fucking love about Lost. Yes, it’s a show about people trapped on a magical island that is inhabited by crazy French women, polar bears, god-like entities, a giant statue of a foot, and a monster made out of smoke, but do you know what? Lost was always so much more than that. It was about humanity at its core. People finding themselves. People being able to adapt to new environments. People finding so much joy in the simplicity of a walkman, molded glasses, invisible peanut butter, running water, and a beat up blue van. Lost is about being a human and connecting with others and just, fuck, it is the most beautiful show ever.

Was Lost a perfect show? No. Did it answer all the questions it set up? No. Were all the plot lines stellar? Good God, no.

And, okay, it was also about a group of people being brought to an Island to serve out a purpose that a god-like character had been setting them up for all of their lives, blah blah blah, the island was magic, blah blah blah, Bai Ling ruined that one episode, blah blah blah, but once you get past all of that can you truly see the show for what it really was.

I have never seen another show depict the trials and tribulations of what it’s like to be human better than Lost did. Behind the running from boars and trying to avoid getting shot with flaming arrows, there was more. There was always so much more. When people are put in life-threatening, dire situations, only then do they show their true colors. And that’s Lost. It was about survival. Humanity. Love. People being people. It was about people staring at the jaws of death and finding the will to keep on living. It was about people finding love where they least expected it. It was about self discovery. It was about redemption, forgiveness, mortality.

It was a show about letting go.

I could gush on and on about this show (or even write slam poetry about it), but I think I’ll draw this entry to a close. I plan on rewatching Lost once I’m done watching Shameless and Once Upon a Time, and the idea of reuniting with these characters and their stories after all these years warms me to the bones. People can hate on this show all they’d like, but there’s no denying that it is still a stand out show even after all this time.

a quick sum up of my day.

23 Jul

Don’t really have much to say about today. It was pretty great, as a whole. Hung out with my buddy Matthew, and we went and saw The Dark Knight Rises and two episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation in theaters. It was pretty glorious. My Web Devepolement teacher also got back to me about the problem I had on last week’s assignments and how I was able to correct htem before the deadline, and she said sh’ed go back and give me higher marks. Plus I finally got to hang out with the roomie for the first time since I moved in. I sat around with her and Tori, I ate a crepe, and we chatted about Avengers, theatre, and whatnot. And it looks like I may be visiting my friend Matt (different than the one I hung out with today) sometime in September and we’ll be going to Disneyland. All in all, a pretty splendid day.

Also, one note on Dark Knight Rises, which I promise wont spoil anything.

I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT. MY BROTHER SAID I WAS STUPID FOR PREDICTING IT, BUT GODDAMMIT, I FUCKING KNEW KNEW KNEW IT.

That is all.

need an out.

22 Jul

Fly me to New York. Whisk me away to LA. Let’s rendezvous in Tuscany or Germany. A detour in Disney – either land or world – will do nicely. Let’s get swept up amongst the waves of Cannon Beach. Lose me in London. Take my hand, take my head, take my heart.

Just take me away from this place.

surrogate siblings.

21 Jul

It’s silly to get so overtly excited about someone telling me that I’m like a little sister to him. It really is, but at the same time it’s something I’ve always longed to hear. I love the idea of two people feeling as though they are related; that they feel comfortable enough to adopt the roles a normal pair of relatives would take on. I find it positively charming.

I’m glad I finally have an older brother-type figure in my life. I think I could use one.

one more lonely night.

20 Jul

I fill my head with fantasies of men I do not even know. I tell lies to myself as I dwindle towards sleep, whilst I take deep breaths and tell myself it’ll all be okay. Tomorrow’s another day. Another day of possibility, another day of change. Yet nothing seems to change. I look better than I have in over a year; so why do I still feel like the girl in the room who’ll never get noticed? I switch sides. I roll over on my stomach. I curl up in a ball. These fantasies that once lulled me to sleep now cause me aches in my belly and sighs in my eyes. I’m becoming tired of sleeping alone at night.

The men I’ve concocted in my mind are just not cutting it anymore.

Older Men in the Media :: A Twenty-Two Year Old’s Infatuation

19 Jul

I’ve been meaning to write this entry for a while now; for years, really. I’ve written about it in snippets from time to time, but I’ve never truly delved into the heart of the matter. You see, this is an entry about my infatuation with older men.

Wait, let me correct that statement:

Older male celebrities.

I feel it’s an important distinction to make. There are very few instances in my life where I’ve had crushes on older men that I’ve known personally, all of which were trivial infatuations throughout high school that never lasted long. Of course, I should also make myself clear that when I’m talking about older male celebrities I’m not talking about, y’know, guys in their late 20’s or early 30’s. Heavens no.

I’m talking about how I, a 22 year old girl, have many a crush on celebrities 40 years old… or older.

I’ve been dying to write this entry ever since I saw Seeking a Friend For the End of the World last month. I walked into that movie expecting to like it, which I did, but halfway through the film I started noticing how ridiculously attracted to Steve Carell I suddenly was. This immediately harkened back to when I had a crush on him when I was sixteen and saw Little Miss Sunshine. I think what hooked me first during Seeking a Friend was his arms (that man has been working out, I swear), but it escalated from there. I’m pretty sure the only reason I didn’t cry as much as I should have at the end of the film was because I was too busy drooling over him. When I got home I googled Steve Carell to find out he is, as of right now, 49 years old. This left me thinking about the cumulative of my crushes on older men in the media.

Steve Carell in argyle? My vagina approves!

I’ve always pined after older actors, even as a kid, not to mention ones that are a bit… random. I’ve never really fantasized about the Brad Pitts or Matthew McConaughey’s of the world. I mean, as an example, here are my list of July celebrity crushes:

  • Steve Carell
  • Jason Tam
  • Jonah Hill
  • James Cagney
  • Patton Oswalt

I guess the most normal crush of the group would be Jason Tam; a Broadway actor who’s only 8 years older than myself. Is that a bad thing that that’s enough for me to deem him a “suitably aged” actor to crush on?

Then there’s James Cagney who’s, y’know, dead now.

Jonah Hill’s only six years older than me, but then again, I’m the only person I know of who’s actually got a crush on Jonah Hill (don’t judge me, Zach). The funny thing is that this crush occurred while watching 21 Jump Street. What’s that? I watched a movie starring Channing Tatum and walked away with a crush on Jonah Hill? Yup. Only me.

Last night I watched Young Adult, which was what gave me that final push to write this entry, because it occurred to me that I’ve had a crush on Patton Oswalt since around 2008. Patton’s forty-three years old now, making him basically twice my age. Not only that, but how many people in this world have a crush on Patton Oswalt? I doubt many.

Yup. Both of them. I would.

I’ve always had crushes on older, more obscure actors. I mentioned it in the past, but in the second grade I had a major celebrity crush – my first celebrity crush ever, actually – on Nathan Lane. When he was 41 years old, and I was only seven. Then around the same time I had a crush on David Thomlinson, ie. the grumpy-as-fuck dad in Mary Poppins, who was 47 when they made that movie. Who the fuck crushes on the grumpy dad in Mary Poppins the 3rd grade? Me, that’s who.

Yeah. I don’t understand either.

Other obscure actors I had crushes on before I turned eleven years old are: David Hyde Pierce (Fraiser), John Lithgow (3rd Rock From the Sun), Alfonso Ribeiro (Fresh Prince of Bel Air), William Daniels (1776), Roscoe Orman (Sesame Street), Brad Garrett (Everybody Loves Raymond), and Salem (Sabrina the Teenage Witch).

Yeah. I had a crush on a cat puppet when I was nine. I don’t know what that says about me.

Maybe it was for our mutual adoration of food…?

For my birthday this year, my brother gave me a copy of John Lithgow’s autobiography, which led to me laughing loudly and yelling, “THIS IS THE BEST”. I don’t think he realized I reacted in such a way because of my random John Lithgow crush that still, to this day, exists. (Fact: this entry came dangerously close to being entitled “My Dirty Little Secret: I Would Fuck John Lithgow.”)

As I’m sure you’re all saying, “Yes, yes, Julia, we get it, you’ve had some weird crushes in your life”, let me shove even more evidence in your face. Here follows a list of every male celebrity 43+ years in age that I have: drooled over, crushed on, fantasized about, wanted to marry, and/or been the cause of the exclamation “I WANT TO HAVE HIS BABIES.”

Hugh Jackman (43), Peter Dinklage (43), Sam Rockwell (43), Patton Oswalt (43), Mark Ruffalo (44), Peter Linz (45), Robert Downey Jr. (47), Rob Lowe (48), Stephen Colbert (48), Steve Carell (49), Ralph Fiennes (49), Greg Kinnear (49), Conan O’Brien (49), Jon Stewart (49), John Slattery (49), George Clooney (51), Stanley Tucci (51), Michael Cerveris (51), Colin Firth (51), Ricky Gervais (51), Steve Whitmire (52), Dylan Baker (52), David Hyde Pierce (53), Brian Stokes Mitchell (54), Christoph Waltz (55), Alan Ruck (56), Michael Emerson (57), Dan Aykroyd (60), Geoffrey Rush (61), Bill Murray (61), Bill Nighy (62), Tom Wilkinson (64), Richard Jenkins (65), John Lithgow (66), Donald Sutherland (77).

What a list.

Of course, many of these are still deemed highly appropriate to crush on. George Clooney. Rob Lowe. Ralph Fiennes. I mean, what human isn’t in love with Colin Firth? And ever since The Avengers it seems like everyone wants in Robert Downey Jr.’s pants…  but it’s impossible to deny that there are some strange crushes on my list.

This, however, should not be one of them. Look at that face. I would lick that face.

I could go in depth analyzing my infatuation of the older male (the first person who says I have an Elektra complex will get shanked), but, quite honestly, there’s just something… nice about men. There’s an air of sophistication and maturity to them. They have family values. They know who they are. They have mature tastes and interests. They’re like good wine, aged to a perfect year. I’ve dealt with my share of boys, and they always leave me feeling like shit, so maybe there’s some inner desire to grow the fuck up and settle down. What’s strange though is that, while I spend plenty of time fantasizing about all the men I’ve just listed, I have no desire to actually be involved with any older man at my current age. I just like looking at them is all.

Do I have normal celebrity crushes? Of course. Chris Evans, Aaron Paul, Josh Hutchinson, Ryan Reynolds, Ryan Gosling, Jason Segel, Darren Criss, they’re all welcome to the party in my pants as well.

Conan, Colbert, and Stewart all have VIP access to my pants party though.

Is this a weird thing to write a blog entry about? Most definitely. But the likelihood of me actually meeting any of these men and getting in a situation where my pants party theory could actually happen is highly unlikely, so for now just let me dream. There’s a pants party and all the men mentioned above are welcome.

(Except you, Channing Tatum. Go the hell away.)

Poetry. I write it. Sometimes.

18 Jul

Silence falls on ear drums,
Another day has passed.
With your requiems to daunting Bethlehem’s
Your tune was meant to last,

But it’s music I don’t know,
Unfamiliar to my ears.
You’re like a constant savior to my reckless behavior,
But your answer, it draws near.

So kill me with kindness,
Smother me with love.
Give me graciousness through grasping fingertips
And all the stars above.

I won’t wait until forever,
For forever is too far away,
But if you gain my hand through blissful reprimand
I promise you I’ll stay.