What Lost Means To Me
How terrible am I for posting this so late? Very? I've been writing bits off it all season, and decided to finish the essay after the series finished. Then I got very tired and very busy, and I spent so much time reading other people's finale write-ups, and as much as I cared about this project, it just never got done.
But here it is now: an essay reflecting on six years of Lost and the impact that it made on my life.
Island, goodbye
Island, goodbye
We've been too long together, my island and I
Across the blue sea
Across the blue sea
We've been too long together, my island and me
~ Gordon Lightfoot, "Cobwebs & Dust"
Lost, more than any other show, is my baby. I just want to pull it into my lap, wrap my arms around it, and tell it "I remember when you were small. When you hadn't met Ben or Desmond or Juliet yet, and you didn't know anything about the Dharma Initiative and time travel was just a crazy fan theory. People used to think that the island was purgatory, do you remember that? It's hard to believe you were ever so little. Look how big you've gotten!"
Just take a second and think of the drastic changes this show has gone through. If you look at the first and last episodes of most TV shows, you can usually tell what's going on and see how they got there. But Lost is almost like a completely different show. Of the fourteen main characters we started with, we only have five left. About 75% all the series' characters have died. And this show adds characters as easily as it kills them. Some of the most important characters on the show right now weren't in the first season at all. It's hard to remember a time before Desmond, Ben, Juliet, Richard, or Jacob. And it's not just human characters: what was this show before the Dharma Initiative, electromagnetism, or time travel?
Lost is the one show that I have stuck with from beginning to end. For some other shows that I enjoy, I might've started watching in season two or let it fall by the wayside in season four. I watched the first episode of Lost, and although there were periods in my life where I was very busy and lagged a few episodes behind, I never gave up on it. I was there for the first episode, and I was there for the last. This show has been a cornerstone of my life, and it's bizarre to see the television landscape without it being there, off in the distance.
Lost premiered when I was 13 years old; the "Walkabout" episode aired on my fourteenth birthday. I wonder what 14-year-old me would think if she could see the show today. Would she approve of Sawyer and Juliet, despite her initial fondness for his relationship with Kate? Would the Charlie fangirl look past his death and appreciate the new characters? Would she forgive the show's long hiatus and shorter episode runs? After some stubborn pouting, I think the young me would warm up to the changes and remain in awe of her show.
Not only has Lost been an entertainer to me, it's been a teacher. The story's intricate mythology references history, philosophy, religion, science, and literature, and has encouraged my study into all these fields. Danielle Rousseau is the whole reason I chose to take French classes in high school. John Locke made my college Philosophy lectures a lot more fun to listen to. There are several books that made their way on to my To Read list because I saw them in the hands of Sawyer.
I learned to be patient from watching this show. Lost is famous, or infamous, for asking questions that wouldn't be answered for years later. It also hinted at character relationships whose payoff seemed so far away. I was frustrated at first, dying to know what the smoke monster was or if Sun and Jin would ever be happy, but I figured out that answers would eventually come, and until that happened, I could be irritated or patient. I chose patience, and that faith carried me through the series. The mysteries of the island also taught me to be observant, because even the smallest detail could be the key to the whole story. I paused and rewound my VHS and then DVR, studied screencaps, and even took notes during the last two seasons of the show.
Most of all, Lost has given me lessons in storytelling that I will value my entire life. Anyone that knows me well knows that television is my passion, and Lost is the show that made me fall in love with TV. It showed me how to tell compelling stories in a way that only a TV show can, and every one of their successes and failures has improved me as a writer. Lost taught me to fill my stories with fascinating characters, exciting plots, incredible detail, and rich mystery. And when I saw the show's mythology got out of control, I aspired to the motto of Benjamin Linus: always have a plan. This show also taught me about the smaller aspects of storytelling, such as allegory, bookends, and, of course, flashbacks.
I'm going to use all these lessons in my career as a creator of TV shows. There are several series that inspired me to this dream, but Lost is one of the biggest ones. If I could create a show half as brilliant as Lost, I'll have considered my life a success.
It's rare that a show can teach and inspire you intellectually, emotionally, and creatively like Lost did.
I call Lost my baby because I've seen in through its entire televised lifespan and watched it grow from pilot to finale. But I didn't help it grow, it never knew if I watched it or not and what I did never affected it. It affected me. Like Desmond to Daniel, it was my constant for almost a third of my life. Lost taught me and inspired me, made me laugh and scream and squeal and sob and feel all these things I didn't know I could feel before. Without this TV show, I'm not sure who I'd be right now.
My Lost finale experience was all about the poignancy of solid knowing: finally knowing the answers, knowing where the characters would end up, knowing that this was the last episode of such an important series. Lost has been a big part of my life and it's scary to think of a world without it now, but I also know that watching the show made me a stronger, smarter, and better person, and if all those people can survive that island, I can survive the rest of my life without my favorite TV show. And I don't have polar bears to deal with.
Wow. That was emotional.
But here it is now: an essay reflecting on six years of Lost and the impact that it made on my life.
Island, goodbye
Island, goodbye
We've been too long together, my island and I
Across the blue sea
Across the blue sea
We've been too long together, my island and me
~ Gordon Lightfoot, "Cobwebs & Dust"
Lost, more than any other show, is my baby. I just want to pull it into my lap, wrap my arms around it, and tell it "I remember when you were small. When you hadn't met Ben or Desmond or Juliet yet, and you didn't know anything about the Dharma Initiative and time travel was just a crazy fan theory. People used to think that the island was purgatory, do you remember that? It's hard to believe you were ever so little. Look how big you've gotten!"
Just take a second and think of the drastic changes this show has gone through. If you look at the first and last episodes of most TV shows, you can usually tell what's going on and see how they got there. But Lost is almost like a completely different show. Of the fourteen main characters we started with, we only have five left. About 75% all the series' characters have died. And this show adds characters as easily as it kills them. Some of the most important characters on the show right now weren't in the first season at all. It's hard to remember a time before Desmond, Ben, Juliet, Richard, or Jacob. And it's not just human characters: what was this show before the Dharma Initiative, electromagnetism, or time travel?
Lost is the one show that I have stuck with from beginning to end. For some other shows that I enjoy, I might've started watching in season two or let it fall by the wayside in season four. I watched the first episode of Lost, and although there were periods in my life where I was very busy and lagged a few episodes behind, I never gave up on it. I was there for the first episode, and I was there for the last. This show has been a cornerstone of my life, and it's bizarre to see the television landscape without it being there, off in the distance.
Lost premiered when I was 13 years old; the "Walkabout" episode aired on my fourteenth birthday. I wonder what 14-year-old me would think if she could see the show today. Would she approve of Sawyer and Juliet, despite her initial fondness for his relationship with Kate? Would the Charlie fangirl look past his death and appreciate the new characters? Would she forgive the show's long hiatus and shorter episode runs? After some stubborn pouting, I think the young me would warm up to the changes and remain in awe of her show.
Not only has Lost been an entertainer to me, it's been a teacher. The story's intricate mythology references history, philosophy, religion, science, and literature, and has encouraged my study into all these fields. Danielle Rousseau is the whole reason I chose to take French classes in high school. John Locke made my college Philosophy lectures a lot more fun to listen to. There are several books that made their way on to my To Read list because I saw them in the hands of Sawyer.
I learned to be patient from watching this show. Lost is famous, or infamous, for asking questions that wouldn't be answered for years later. It also hinted at character relationships whose payoff seemed so far away. I was frustrated at first, dying to know what the smoke monster was or if Sun and Jin would ever be happy, but I figured out that answers would eventually come, and until that happened, I could be irritated or patient. I chose patience, and that faith carried me through the series. The mysteries of the island also taught me to be observant, because even the smallest detail could be the key to the whole story. I paused and rewound my VHS and then DVR, studied screencaps, and even took notes during the last two seasons of the show.
Most of all, Lost has given me lessons in storytelling that I will value my entire life. Anyone that knows me well knows that television is my passion, and Lost is the show that made me fall in love with TV. It showed me how to tell compelling stories in a way that only a TV show can, and every one of their successes and failures has improved me as a writer. Lost taught me to fill my stories with fascinating characters, exciting plots, incredible detail, and rich mystery. And when I saw the show's mythology got out of control, I aspired to the motto of Benjamin Linus: always have a plan. This show also taught me about the smaller aspects of storytelling, such as allegory, bookends, and, of course, flashbacks.
I'm going to use all these lessons in my career as a creator of TV shows. There are several series that inspired me to this dream, but Lost is one of the biggest ones. If I could create a show half as brilliant as Lost, I'll have considered my life a success.
It's rare that a show can teach and inspire you intellectually, emotionally, and creatively like Lost did.
I call Lost my baby because I've seen in through its entire televised lifespan and watched it grow from pilot to finale. But I didn't help it grow, it never knew if I watched it or not and what I did never affected it. It affected me. Like Desmond to Daniel, it was my constant for almost a third of my life. Lost taught me and inspired me, made me laugh and scream and squeal and sob and feel all these things I didn't know I could feel before. Without this TV show, I'm not sure who I'd be right now.
My Lost finale experience was all about the poignancy of solid knowing: finally knowing the answers, knowing where the characters would end up, knowing that this was the last episode of such an important series. Lost has been a big part of my life and it's scary to think of a world without it now, but I also know that watching the show made me a stronger, smarter, and better person, and if all those people can survive that island, I can survive the rest of my life without my favorite TV show. And I don't have polar bears to deal with.
Wow. That was emotional.