As soon as the series finale of Lost ended, I went to the discussion boards to see what people thought about it. To my surprise, a lot of people were dissatisfied, wanting more from the ending, and wishing more questions had been cleared up.
This surprised me even though I know that having all of one's questions answered after reading a long mystery is one of the ultimate rewards and satisfactions one can achieve. But the whole nature of the show Lost seemed -- at least to me -- not ever to be about resolving mysteries, but rather of stretching the bounds of belief. Fiction is, after all, about conjuring up made-up worlds and in these worlds, sometimes things just exist. There is no why to them. That is just the way they are. That is how that world exists. We don't ask why trees exist, why animals exist, why we have oceans, or why there is a Jabba the Hut, or why magical spells only work in ancient or made-up languages. They just do.
But most of the fun of Lost (I gather from all the discussions and reviews about it) came from being able to ask, "Why?" "Why this?" and "Why that?" And people came up with their own theories and ideas. I think in crafting this ending, the writers wanted to stay true to that ability with Lost. They wanted to leave room for interpretation, so that not just one theory could hold true but dozens upon dozens of theories. That's what writers like to do. And the more theories you can leave plausible, the better you feel about your writing, because then you know that it has engaged other people's imagination and becomes bigger than you could ever imagine. The world abounds in mysteries and interpretations and being able to come even somewhat close to that ability, gives a writer one of the greatest satisfactions. To be cut and dried was never the tone of Lost, anyway, and the ending was the same.
To be fair, I did not watch the full six seasons of Lost. I watched the first, some of the second, and then the fifth and sixth. So maybe that is why I am satisfied with the ending. I wasn't exposed to all of the mysteries of the island and left wondering about them, and hoping the ending would answer them. Whatever mysteries I was exposed to, I was left satisfied by the ending.
Of course, the real reason I headed for the discussion boards soon after the show was to see if people's interpretations of the ending weren't like mine. One of the first posts I read from an LA Times blog scoffed at the terrible ending, saying that it was a terrible way to end the show because it meant that they had all died when the plane crashed and everything after that had been purgatory and unreal. I found the author's outrage to be ridiculous (although the presumption was plausible, if you wanted to believe that) and rated her so, and was glad to see others had rated her remarks the same. It was ridiculous because she obviously watched the show with an eye to criticize, and because she touted her interpretation as the ultimate and only answer.
In my interpretation, which I found an ally with in another article and felt keenly validated, Jack dies at the end when his eyes close, after saving his friends and the island. He becomes a martyr and dies a hero, happy but alone. Everything on the island really happened. And then we learn that all these flash sideways were actually a flash of their afterlives in some sort of middle world before heaven, and that is why when the characters are touched by someone who meant a lot to them, their lives flash before their eyes. And though Jack died alone on the island, in the end, he gets to be with all the people he loved.
I think the writers wanted to end it this way because it would have been such a terribly sad and empty ending if Jack just saved everyone and died alone. They wanted to show that he got to be reunited with everyone and got to be happy in the end; thus why some people, like me, saw the ending as emotionally fulfilling and beautiful.
The one thing I kept thinking about today was that saying, by John Donne, "No man is an island unto himself." If the island symbolized anything, it was the figurative island we all sometimes think we live on, and the character Jack especially. We think that we are alone in the world, and nothing we do matters, when in reality, we are not alone, and what we do does matter. We affect other people, and they affect us, and the connections we make are the most important parts of our lives. Jack begins on a figurative island, goes to a literal island, and ends in a place where there are no islands, but just people he loves.
That's a good ending.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Things Can Change Quickly
My garbage disposal broke, or it soon will, it seems. And it got me to thinking, "I could leave this place."
I have been thinking that I wanted to stay where I am, that I would be really sad to leave, but now I wonder if I couldn't possible leave; that I would be ok with it.
Maybe I need to change the furniture around again; who knows? Or maybe the garbage disposal is the last straw. But it seems I'm ready for something new.
This is a really great place and yet I feel I could move on from it. Just a few moments ago, I would not have ever dreamt that I could feel this way. So we'll see how long it lasts.
It's funny though, how fast things can change and how feelings you thought were constant can come around to a place you never thought they'd be.
I have been thinking that I wanted to stay where I am, that I would be really sad to leave, but now I wonder if I couldn't possible leave; that I would be ok with it.
Maybe I need to change the furniture around again; who knows? Or maybe the garbage disposal is the last straw. But it seems I'm ready for something new.
This is a really great place and yet I feel I could move on from it. Just a few moments ago, I would not have ever dreamt that I could feel this way. So we'll see how long it lasts.
It's funny though, how fast things can change and how feelings you thought were constant can come around to a place you never thought they'd be.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
Happy Mother's Day to my mom and to all the other moms in the world.
And thank you. You made our lives possible.
And thank you. You made our lives possible.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The Unhappy Choice
Compared to other nations, America is pretty well off. Most people can afford a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, food for their stomachs (too much food actually), cars to drive them to work, and cellphones, Ipods, and what-have-you. We have so many modern conveniences that make our every day life, well, convenient, but for all that, we are not a happy nation.
So why are we so unhappy?
Too much choice makes us unhappy. So says my friend who read a book with just that hypothesis, and I am inclined to agree.
We have a lot of choice here. We have a lot of freedom here. A lot of people, especially people who never travel abroad, don't realize how great it is that we can say whatever we want and not worry about being imprisoned or killed by our government. They don't know any worse, so they don't realize how well off they are. They are like people who constantly sit in first-class all their lives and expect to be spoiled by everyone, including their government.
That's the problem with having a lot of choice -- we get spoiled by it. We start to think that we're entitled to everything because we have the power to pick and choose what we want. And if we're not happy, we can jump ship as soon as we find something better. Choice makes us work less hard to be happy with what we have. And it makes us constantly crave to have something better; whatever we don't have at the moment always seems better than what we have right now. But the thing is, choice -- too much choice -- doesn't make us happy because we can never be content. It drives us to always constantly think, "I could do better," instead of, "I'm happy with what I've got."
When we have too much choice, we don't realize that we have control over our happiness. Instead, we think that things have control over our happiness. And if we could just get this thing or that thing, we'd be happy. But we aren't, because things don't make us happy, at least not for long. We get used to them and then they fail to bring us joy any longer.
When we choose, we like the feeling that we made the right choice, the best choice. We like the idea that we couldn't have done any better. That feeling makes us happy. Having too much choice takes away that feeling. And it leaves us feeling like we can never do good enough; something else will always be better.
If we can never be content with any choice we make for long, how can we ever hope to attain long-term fulfillment?
Perhaps what we need to do -- because we can't eliminate the choices that life gives us or pretend we don't see them -- is to change our perspective, and most of all, to give ourselves some slack. Why do we need to have the best of everything? We don't. And the notion of the best, at some point, is subjective, at best. As long as we are happy, can find happiness, that is what matters.
So why are we so unhappy?
Too much choice makes us unhappy. So says my friend who read a book with just that hypothesis, and I am inclined to agree.
We have a lot of choice here. We have a lot of freedom here. A lot of people, especially people who never travel abroad, don't realize how great it is that we can say whatever we want and not worry about being imprisoned or killed by our government. They don't know any worse, so they don't realize how well off they are. They are like people who constantly sit in first-class all their lives and expect to be spoiled by everyone, including their government.
That's the problem with having a lot of choice -- we get spoiled by it. We start to think that we're entitled to everything because we have the power to pick and choose what we want. And if we're not happy, we can jump ship as soon as we find something better. Choice makes us work less hard to be happy with what we have. And it makes us constantly crave to have something better; whatever we don't have at the moment always seems better than what we have right now. But the thing is, choice -- too much choice -- doesn't make us happy because we can never be content. It drives us to always constantly think, "I could do better," instead of, "I'm happy with what I've got."
When we have too much choice, we don't realize that we have control over our happiness. Instead, we think that things have control over our happiness. And if we could just get this thing or that thing, we'd be happy. But we aren't, because things don't make us happy, at least not for long. We get used to them and then they fail to bring us joy any longer.
When we choose, we like the feeling that we made the right choice, the best choice. We like the idea that we couldn't have done any better. That feeling makes us happy. Having too much choice takes away that feeling. And it leaves us feeling like we can never do good enough; something else will always be better.
If we can never be content with any choice we make for long, how can we ever hope to attain long-term fulfillment?
Perhaps what we need to do -- because we can't eliminate the choices that life gives us or pretend we don't see them -- is to change our perspective, and most of all, to give ourselves some slack. Why do we need to have the best of everything? We don't. And the notion of the best, at some point, is subjective, at best. As long as we are happy, can find happiness, that is what matters.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Agree to be Disagreeable
The other night, I was talking to this guy, and afterwards I realized that maybe I shouldn't have been so agreeable.
That is not to say that I was nice to him or even kind, I was actually rather cool to him. Of course, he himself was not a very kind, positive person, but rather a somewhat ornery, moody person and that was the reason I treated him as I did -- giving him as good as he gave -- but it occurred to me later that I didn't have to do that.
You see, the thing is, he flattered me and he disparaged himself, and I agreed with him. I enjoyed his flattery and I agreed with his disparagement, even teasing him when he called himself a "mean drunk" by saying "you can be meaner?" I was joking, in my way, but also not. I did think him somewhat mean at times. And so I let it be known, but I did it in a way that might have made it seem that he was overly mean -- which he isn't, most of the time.
I wished afterwards that I could have seen him for more than he was; for his potential rather than the image he was showing to me at that moment. And it occurred to me that it used to make me so angry when people would see me for who I was at that moment, instead of seeing me for the potential I had to grow and be better. And here I was doing it to this poor fellow. He's hurting, I think, in other ways, and that's his way of dealing. There is a reason he is the way he is, just like there is a reason I'm the way I am, and a reason other people are the way they are.
The next day I realized that even though he was disparaging himself, I didn't have to join in. I could have been the one to see the good in him, so that maybe he could see the good in himself a little more.
So what I learned is that you shouldn't agree with people when they're disparaging themselves. Even if it seems like mindless fun and enjoyment, and you're just joking and teasing, the unintended consequence is that you might really be saying something that harms someone and their impression of themself. If you set the standard that they are the way they are and can't change, then they will feel that and cater to that standard. But if you set the bar higher, you give them a chance to prove that they can be better.
That is not to say that I was nice to him or even kind, I was actually rather cool to him. Of course, he himself was not a very kind, positive person, but rather a somewhat ornery, moody person and that was the reason I treated him as I did -- giving him as good as he gave -- but it occurred to me later that I didn't have to do that.
You see, the thing is, he flattered me and he disparaged himself, and I agreed with him. I enjoyed his flattery and I agreed with his disparagement, even teasing him when he called himself a "mean drunk" by saying "you can be meaner?" I was joking, in my way, but also not. I did think him somewhat mean at times. And so I let it be known, but I did it in a way that might have made it seem that he was overly mean -- which he isn't, most of the time.
I wished afterwards that I could have seen him for more than he was; for his potential rather than the image he was showing to me at that moment. And it occurred to me that it used to make me so angry when people would see me for who I was at that moment, instead of seeing me for the potential I had to grow and be better. And here I was doing it to this poor fellow. He's hurting, I think, in other ways, and that's his way of dealing. There is a reason he is the way he is, just like there is a reason I'm the way I am, and a reason other people are the way they are.
The next day I realized that even though he was disparaging himself, I didn't have to join in. I could have been the one to see the good in him, so that maybe he could see the good in himself a little more.
So what I learned is that you shouldn't agree with people when they're disparaging themselves. Even if it seems like mindless fun and enjoyment, and you're just joking and teasing, the unintended consequence is that you might really be saying something that harms someone and their impression of themself. If you set the standard that they are the way they are and can't change, then they will feel that and cater to that standard. But if you set the bar higher, you give them a chance to prove that they can be better.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Sweet Revenge
Recently I saw a guy that I really liked many years ago.
We were at an event when I heard his voice. He has a distinctive voice, and so I turned and saw that it was him. And he looked the same. It was as if no time had passed at all for him. And I don't say that in an altogether good way as you might think. His hair, his clothes, his style were still the same. He was still the same. When I had liked him, I had thought he was so cool. He was so different from other guys, so laid back. And now when I saw him, I thought, "Wow, you haven't changed at all. You're still the same. You're rather boring."
The universe was very kind to me because we met at an event, and so I dressed up for the occasion. If I had seem him on the way to the grocery store, I might have had a different experience to say the least, but I saw him when I was all dolled up; and he was way dressed down (which he seems to be for every occasion, thus the reason for the boring factor).
Later in the evening, I looked at him again where there was more light because I wanted to make sure it was for sure him. And at that moment I saw that he was looking at me. His eyes looked happy, and I realized, "He does have cute eyes," but then I turned away. And that was that.
And after that night, I was very happy. Nothing really happened except inside myself. And yet I was so very satisfied. I realized how silly it was for me to have liked him so much, when we really had nothing in common. It's funny how your fantasies build up people. And I realized that I no longer cared about him. That was nice; a very satisfying victory on my part.
I also realized that the sweetest revenge you can have on an ex is to look really good and ignore him. Ah, it is so sweet.
We were at an event when I heard his voice. He has a distinctive voice, and so I turned and saw that it was him. And he looked the same. It was as if no time had passed at all for him. And I don't say that in an altogether good way as you might think. His hair, his clothes, his style were still the same. He was still the same. When I had liked him, I had thought he was so cool. He was so different from other guys, so laid back. And now when I saw him, I thought, "Wow, you haven't changed at all. You're still the same. You're rather boring."
The universe was very kind to me because we met at an event, and so I dressed up for the occasion. If I had seem him on the way to the grocery store, I might have had a different experience to say the least, but I saw him when I was all dolled up; and he was way dressed down (which he seems to be for every occasion, thus the reason for the boring factor).
Later in the evening, I looked at him again where there was more light because I wanted to make sure it was for sure him. And at that moment I saw that he was looking at me. His eyes looked happy, and I realized, "He does have cute eyes," but then I turned away. And that was that.
And after that night, I was very happy. Nothing really happened except inside myself. And yet I was so very satisfied. I realized how silly it was for me to have liked him so much, when we really had nothing in common. It's funny how your fantasies build up people. And I realized that I no longer cared about him. That was nice; a very satisfying victory on my part.
I also realized that the sweetest revenge you can have on an ex is to look really good and ignore him. Ah, it is so sweet.
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