maystone / The Procastination Post (Reply)

I'm supposed to be reworking my resumé, but it's going to have to be in a completely new format combining functional and chronological, and I have to research that and make some lists of skills in past jobs and then do a template for the new resumé - and I'm tired just thinking about it. So I'll play here instead.

I don't know if it's that I've grown more impatient or (more as I suspect) the writers are just dickin' us around this season. Do. Something. Or here's a thought: Do Something Which Involves Continuity! Desmond? Desmond? Who? Ohhhhh - the guy who Jack knew from that close encounter running up and down stadium steps (and what the fuck was that, anyway?), who was mysteriously cast away on the island of lost ~~plot points~~ souls and who was metaphorically chained to the fucking doomsday computer but who has now . . . disappeared? Been eaten by the polar bear? Is off taking a crap in the jungle for all we know because no one has mentioned him or seems worried about his whereabouts since he went poof/got eaten/grabbed the tp and the magazine and headed out back?

Please.

Even the flashbacks aren't moving things forward or adding new information as they used to. I adore Jin and Sun. Adore them! Nothing much happened there that added to what we already know of them as characters. Pretty people, pretty cheekbones, pretty much time that could have been devoted to fleshing out the story already in progress. Sigh.

OK, I'll give them this. Or maybe it's my own imagination again. Roommate of Jin intones that the color of love is orange. Vainly do I search for a smidgen of orange on any of Sun's clothing. She held a glass of OJ - that was about as close as it came. (And was I expecting her to spill it all over herself and for Jin to come running with a napkin and they see each other and BOING it's love? Sort of.) But what I did notice is . . . Michael's t-shirt is orange. And Michael is batshit crazy trying to get his son back. The color of love is orange. Perhaps.

Also? Trampy, dirty legs seen only from the knee down do not horror bring. When I saw the little parade which ended with a boy dragging a teddy bear I laughed out loud. It's the Lost Boys! Where's Peter? Where's Wendy? Probably not the effect they were going for.

And for Christ's sake, as

aw_lemongirl (I think) already noted - Michael! Sawyer! just ask the fucking remnants of the survivors what happened to the rest of the "23". Gah!

But enough with the bitching. Switching gears for a bit. The Book of Job. Great story, wonderful read. It's not quite what you think it is if you haven't actually read it. Job is, counter to popular mythology, not all that patient. Throughout the book he stubbornly insists that Jehovah owes him a big-time explanation for all of the disasters that have befallen him. Over and over - I want Jehovah to tell me why. I'm gonna sit here until he shows up and explains himself, because damn it, I didn't deserve this. He better show up, is all I'm saying. He'd better . . . and Jehovah shows up. Out of a whirlwind.

Uh-oh.

And then follows some of the most beautiful poetry of the Bible, as Jehovah pretty much slaps Job down with a "who the hell are you, puny man?" attitude. It starts off with Jehovah asking, "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the universe?" And I gotta admit, if I were Job I would have answered -

"Who me? I was with Titus Pullo."

I figure you can take Rome two ways. You can be upset by the liberties taken with history, or you can sit back and enjoy The Further Adventures of Titus and Vorenus: Been There, Done That. I choose the latter. I'm loving this conceit that the two of them have been and are now bound to be present at every great event of their time. Titus will no doubt be the one disarming Brutus after the fact and Vorenus will somehow be there to pass the asp to Cleopatra. And I shall be snuggled into my chair cheering them on :)

And now, my stupid resumé awaits.

Toodles.