a year not Lost

Today it's been one year since Lost ended, since I saw the series finale! Freaky! And what do you know, I'm still here, alive and even kicking a little. At times I was sure my life would end with the best TV show in the universe, but somehow I've soldiered on! And honestly, it's been so easy that a year younger version of me would be disgusted or at least very ashamed. But hey, the year hasn't been a total loss, as there's been Glee, which has been filling the hole born a year ago better than I ever expected anything to fill, at least not this soon.

But still as much as I lovelovelove Glee, it's obviously not Lost. Case in point: season two of Glee ends this week, and I'm not half as pumped as I always was waiting for any season finale of Lost. Nothing makes me freak out like the show used to make. I shall never forget those days of insane screaming, hitting my head on a wall and running circles on the backyard (season 5 finale), almost bursting open an operation scar on my stomach (season 2 opening), and laying on a bed for a half an hour, staring at the roof with wide, watery eyes (season 6 finale). Aw. Good times.

I think I'll celebrate this occasion by, for the first time ever, keeping it short and not letting things get out of hand when talking about Lost. I also might call everyone by rude nicknames, play backgammon and Connect Four, listen to The Mamas and the Papas, enjoy some imaginary peanut butter, engage myself in a heated conversation about destiny and faith, and maybe go buy myself a pair of white tennis shoes.

Finally, a truly series-defining quote, for old times' sake:

"Was he talking about what I think he was talking about?"
"If you mean time-travelling bunnies, then yes." 

Oh how good to see that pretty face again.

P.S. I happened to remember that I still haven't finished the final season six post of my Complete Lost Marathon. Hmh. If I found my notes I could maybe finish it one of these days...