2004-2010.

It's abuzz on some other networks that Lost turns twenty today. One of the few bits of pop culture accomplishments I have to my name was seeing the first and last episodes when they were new - the nights they both were broadcast. I didn't think I'd watch it, not at first. I'd seen some promos and trailers and was on the fence about it, maybe or maybe not, and then someone on my Livejournal friends-list in New York posted about having had a good time. Three hours ahead of me out in San Francisco. Back when TV was broadcast, and there were spoiler cuts for hours, days, weeks afterwards because you knew not everyone was going to see it right away, three hours was enough time for me to decide I'd head down to the dorm lounge and catch it there. Maybe I'd like it, maybe not.

I loved it.

I watched it as regularly as I could for the next four years. One week I begged a dorm-mate to let me watch it on her TV. Other weeks I'd catch a few minutes of whatever was on beforehand and rarely remembered anything. If I was home, I watched it there. If I couldn't get to a TV, I'd be careful about where I clicked to avoid spoilers until I could get myself a download from one of the file-sharing communities run by people who were providing a wonderful service. It was college, and I was able to stay up late. I chatted with people, I theorized about backstories, I worked to remember to take time zones into account when I posted because streaming hadn't been invented yet. I picked up a few icons, tossed off a few ficlets, and generally had a good time.

I wandered away after graduation. Sometime late in four or early in five, when it started to run out of steam and lag a bit. It was grad school and it was more of a struggle than I let myself understand. When it was announced it was ending, I caught up with everything so I'd be able to enjoy it right away. I still remember being pleased a TV announcer used the word "penultimate" correctly for the second to last episode, sitting on an old couch in the house's front room, and watching Lost was pretty much the only time I'd come out of my room except to eat, use the bathroom, or leave the house. The last few episodes knew what they were doing, because by season three, you really weren't watching it much for the plot anymore, but for the characters, and that was the story the show was telling. Who these people were. I got to say hello and I got to say goodbye.

I ended up calling someone to have someone to yell at and be someone to be yelled at in turn, pacing around my room for a good long while, absolutely pushed under the waves of all the feelings and riding high on how good it felt to have been pushed so far under.

Fandom's changed a lot since then. Fewer downloading communities, fewer icon journals. It's shifted where it hangs out and how it talks about what it talks about. Some of the things changed for the better, and some of the things just changed. In some ways it hasn't changed at all. There's a handful of specific aspects I wish would come back, like the icon journals, and most of what I miss is intangible and situational - the moment it was here and who I was then, the shape of my life and even for all I wouldn't go back and do it again, there's things I'd have liked to keep that I know I'll never see come around again.

It's tidy that Lost fit college and grad school for me. It's pleasant I was able to catch up and not miss anything. TV like that doesn't happen anymore - beyond the loss of the monoculture and the rise of streaming, the entertainment industry is much less willing to take big risks and be patient about a longterm payoff.

I'm glad I was there while it lasted.

The ever distant band.

I gave blood this afternoon, filling the bag in about six minutes. I made sure to watch the finger needle sticks - the first one was 12.4 g/dL, just under the iron minimum, so I asked the nurse to try again, and got 13 - and the arm needle also. It was strange to see it happen because it took the nurse a little work to get the vein itself since mine have a tendency to roll. I didn't much feel it in my arm until he got the vein, which was a bit of a shock and nothing too painful. But I felt it happen. A writing detail to remember for later.

I'm still wearing the sporty white bandage. I think it looks pretty neat.