Lost: Little Man In The Window Stood

I mostly liked this episode. Minimal Jack and Kate, a good amount of mysticism and Nestor Carbonell. And of course it was very satisfying to watch someone–anyone–beat the crap out of Michael.

The only thing is that the writing is starting to remind me of dreams I frequently have. Some nights my subconscious will take me back to high school, but I’ll be there with my husband and a couple of people who worked with me at the travel agency and the music minister from a church I went to 8 years ago.

It’s totally random and makes me feel slightly unglued.

That’s kind of how I felt watching last night’s episode and I think it’s why I’m holding back on loving it. At the beginning it was pretty cool to see someone from another “time” pop up in a seemingly impossible situation. Now it’s starting to make me feel unmoored and anxious. I’m ready for some level of resolution to the story, because I’m starting to feel like there is no “story” per se, but rather a series of literary legerdemain. I’ve seen as many of the quilt squares as my mind can handle and I’m about ready for someone to stitch them together.

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