There are “Philosophy of…” books for just about anything nerdy these days (check the sister blog for an excellent post on the philosophy of superheroes). This is partly because science fiction/horror/urban fantasy/what have you allows us to explore high-fallutin’ ideas in an accessible way–by making the situations big, stylized, and occasionally totally over-the-top; however, the characters are often deeply rooted in conflicts and struggles that are as classic as you get. The search for meaning is an easy example, but this is tied in with another struggle that has become highly prevalent in nerd pop culture as of late: the nature of destiny.  

Take, for instance, the latest Doctor Who special, (David Tennant’s penultimate outing as the 10th Doctor) which aired on the BBC this week. The stresses of being The Last of His Kind, The Last of the Time Lords has been getting to the Doctor more and more–this isn’t terribly new. After all, the Master died in his arms after refusing to regenerate, companion after companion left him for one reason or another, even his tin bloody dog got a new owner (The Sarah Jane Adventures is adorable, though, so it’s hard to get too mad). But, after all of this, after saving the Earth and reality as we know it–thanklessly–for the zillionth time, the Doctor picked up on the fact that he isn’t long for this world, with little more to go on than the vague clue “he will knock four times.” Whether this means true death or another intensely painful regeneration, he doesn’t know. It does, however, make him question his place in keeping time the way it “should” be, if his dying “must” be.

For those who aren’t familiar with Doctor Who (especially nuWho, a.k.a. 9th Doctor and beyond), a bit of backstory: the Doctor has mentioned on a few occasions that most time is in flux, but the big things? They always happen, they’re destined. This is how he adventures about time and space with fairly little consequence–he shifts some details here and there on occasion, but it’s not like he exits the TARDIS to find the Nazis won WWII, you know? An example of a “fixed” event would be what happened at Pompeii: that city must always burn. Always. Too many crucial elements of the future depend on Pompeii’s destruction for it not to happen (if you’re wondering, yes, the Doctor is responsible for letting the volcano erupt). It is revealed in “Waters of Mars” that “fixed points in time” are a concept of the former Time Lord society, and that the Doctor has observed this for the entirety of his journeys without question. But, as a man who knows he will not die that day (no knocks!), something inside the Doctor’s brain breaks a little on that Mars base. He brazenly–and in a manner that is fairly frightening–saves the doomed crew, those poor souls that were meant to die, had to die that day. The Doctor gets a maniacal look in his eye (a look more than a little reminiscent of the Master, of all people) and essentially proclaims himself a god, really playing up the Lord part of Time Lord. However, the captain of the Mars mission puts two and two together, concludes that her continued life goes against nature and humanity’s brilliant future, and kills herself moments after they’re all safely back on Earth. That which is destined will always occur, Time Lord or no Time Lord, and the Doctor learns a cruel lesson.

Another show that is currently dealing with destiny in a very direct, we’ll-go-Calvinist-on-all-your-asses way is Supernatural. Both Winchester boys have had a “special destiny” at one point or another (when you base your show on Campbell’s hero’s journey, ala Star Wars, that shit is bound to happen…though to be fair, Dean is pretty awesome as a modern, highly intelligent, slightly redneck Han Solo): Sam was a “special child” of the Azazel, the Yellow-Eyed Demon; Dean was pulled from Hell by the armies of Heaven to do the work of God; this season, it turns out that both boys are destined to be vessels for the biggest, most badass angels of all: Lucifer and Michael. For four seasons, Sam and Dean have tried to avoid their destinies. They’ve cheated death a ridiculously high number of times, they’ve tried to piece together what’s happening to them at any given time (still usually a few steps behind whatever force is running the show…destiny, thy name is Eric Kripke), but for four seasons their efforts have done little more than add a sense of futility to the proceedings. More often than not, avoiding their destinies has directly caused destiny-fulfilling events to occur. This became even more apparent with the introduction of the charmingly alcoholic prophet Chuck–when you see your life story written down before it happens, you start to lose faith in your own sense of free will.

What makes the fifth and current season special is that the Winchester boys are not running from their destinies any longer; rather, they’re facing them head on and saying “fuck you.” Dean and his angel buddy Castiel (IDK my BFF Cas!) are hunting down archangels and demanding answers, all the while refusing to be–and forgive the expression, but Dean’s colloquialisms are just too good–angel condoms for Lucifer and Michael. 

Are Sam and Dean doomed to their supposed destinies? Didn’t that one episode that one time show that all is written and shall always come to pass? Well, dear readers, the answer is maybe. It’s been pretty much established that past events are set in stone (i.e., the episode “In the Beginning”, where Dean plays Back to the Future–now with more angels!–and while trying to save his younger parents, inadvertently sets up a causal loop which set in motion the events of the entire freaking series), but the future seems like it may be up for grabs. Some of the more powerful angels can run elaborate virtual reality-style scenarios to determine possible outcomes for the apocalypse, but enough details–significant details–have been altered since the last time the archangel Zachariah pulled that particular stunt that those projections don’t necessarily hold of ton of weight. Since one of this season’s main storylines is Castiel’s search for God–for realsies, dear readers–it’s fairly safe to assume that God will show up as an actual character at some point and pull the most epic deus ex machina ending of ALL TIME. And, since God is theoretically the Alpha and the Omega and all that jazz, wouldn’t that mean the outcome is still fixed? Does God have a vested interest in the destinies of angels and men, especially once events are already set in motion? How about demons? It’s enough to make your head spin, and unless God turns out to be a skee-ball playing Alanis Morissette I won’t be completely satisfied anyway, so let’s move on.

While the previous two examples featured predominantly male characters (though one could argue for the “destinies” of female companions on Doctor Who, especially particularly awesome ones like Donna Noble and Rose Tyler, who during their tenure as companions became inexorably entangled not just in time and space, but time and space between parallel universes), it is important to note the overwhelming number of female characters who have rocked the sexy boots of destiny. While organizing this article, I couldn’t help but laugh a little every time I started a sentence with “[character name] and his/her special destiny…”, when that phrase was first attributed to Kara “Starbuck” Thrace of the rebooted Battlestar Galactica.

Also on Battlestar, the cylon hybrid–a.k.a “that schizophrenic lady in the murky tub”–acted almost as an oracle or a prophet, spouting half-nonsense, half-Jesus-Christ-monkey-balls revelations. 

Buffy Summers of Buffy the Vampire Slayer deserves her own article regarding struggles with destiny (and I’m sure they’re out there–we live in a world where “Buffy scholar” is an actual job title at certain universities, which is fabulous): she accepted and subsequently rejected her Slayer-dom numerous times, at one point running away from home and working in a sketchy diner for tips to avoid her calling. But, as trouble seems to always find the Slayer, even then she was forced to step up and do what must be done. Buffy’s ever-evolving opinion of her Slayer destiny is most interesting, then, when in the series finale she allowed and even encouraged Willow to complete a rite that allowed for a dozen Slayers-in-wait to join in on the fun (before that moment it was understood that only one Slayer may be called to serve at a time).

One important link between all of these examples is the fact that nearly everyone listed has died and been given new life at least once–is this a prerequisite for the fulfillment of a hero’s destiny, or merely a strange quirk common to overwrought material? Of course, a main character staying dead (you know, when it’s no longer the season break) poses obvious story issues, but each example listed has also used resurrection and rebirth as vehicles to deal with–or at least acknowledge–their characters’ psychological issues. In so doing, these characters often better understand (though still not always accept) their destinies after taking a trip into that white light/hellfire/nothingness.

Speaking of series’ writers and creators, perhaps the idea of destiny tied in with death is so prevalent because the Joss Whedons of the world (or, if you prefer, the Eric Kripkes, Ronald D. Moores, and Russell T. Davies of the world) fancy themselves deterministic Gods with a sadistic streak? They created these rich worlds with fascinating characters, after all…so, like a child with a magnifying glass on a hot sidewalk, they delight in setting their little ants aflame. And isn’t that the point? Vonnegut said once: “Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them–in order that the reader may see what they are made of.” Were there no suffering, no growth, would destiny matter at all?

Now, dear readers, I don’t mean horrified by violence. I don’t mean disgusted by blood and gore. I don’t mean momentarily unnerved by some cheap gag (boo!). I mean, when were you last scared by a movie?

Every generation has their Psycho: that movie theater experience where your mom/grandma/aunt/sister was so freaked out that it stayed with them for a long time after the credits rolled. For my grandmother, it was the aforementioned Psycho. For my mother, it was The Exorcist. For me, it was Paranormal Activity.

For an “indie” movie (when it’s distributed by Paramount, does it still qualify as indie, despite the fact that it cost 11K to make?), Paranormal Activity has received an incredible amount of hype. I remember a few months ago when I watched the trailer, I was not terribly impressed. It looked like a cross between The Blair Witch Project and Poltergeist, and the “DEMAND IT AT A THEATER NEAR YOU!” card at the end of the trailer was off-putting. Despite the niche appeal of viral movie campaigns (i.e., Snakes on a Plane), they don’t tend to link themselves up with movies that stand well on their own merits. I decided then that I’d wait for the DVD. But, slowly, buzz started to build from the horror film festival circuit, and I noticed that it was getting a limited release that included a theater in Washington, DC. Okay, I thought, what the hell. So, that Friday I dragged my 19-year-old brother to the movies. 

Holy shit, guys.

The only thing you need to know about the plot is that this couple (the two attractive yuppies from the trailer) has no control over what’s happening to them. This thing takes over their lives and plays with them until it’s done. That in itself is unnerving, that loss of control and the sense of violation (and I’m waiting for the feminist theorists to write papers specifically on the girlfriend’s place in the predicament, as well), but that is not what scared me.

What scared me about Paranormal Activity is that it includes the single most effective use of psychology and conditioning that I’ve ever seen in a movie. EVER. 

Let me lead off here by mentioning that I don’t get scared at movies. I laugh when the girl runs up the stairs to get away from the serial killer, or when some teenagers are getting it on and Jason shows up. So, naturally, the first time the couple set up their video camera to record the middle of the night goings-on, I rolled my eyes and snarked like everyone else in the theater. And the first time they caught the bedroom door moving on its own, I chuckled and thought “Ooh! Scarrrry!” Seriously, a door moving? I’m supposed to be freaked out?

Well, that was exactly where the director, Oren Peli, wanted me. I wasn’t supposed to take it seriously. Not yet. But, over the course of the movie, footage of the same angle (taken from atop a tripod set in the corner of the bedroom) would pop up, and little by little, I began to squirm in my seat. The technique is very similar to what you see in Michael Haneke’s movies (most notably Cache and Funny Games), where there are wide shots at a static angle for minutes at a time, and nothing necessarily happens…but the tension builds. Your eye searches the frame, not wanting to be caught off guard by whatever horrible thing is about to happen. But, for long stretches, nothing does.

Little things become bigger and bigger problems about halfway through the movie–during one of the overnight bedroom scenes, the girlfriend (seemingly possessed) rolls out of bed and crosses to the boyfriend’s side, standing over him. She stands there for hours. The time lapse on the camera speeds up, and the swaying most of us do without noticing when we stand in place speeds up, too. Watching that was nerve-wracking. 

The penultimate and most violent scene in the movie occurs off-screen, and it’s during one of the overnight bedroom scenes. The scene starts in the bedroom, but the action is moved downstairs, and that’s when you hear what has to be unspeakable, unrepentant violence. You’re still watching that static angle in the bedroom because you have no choice, but now it’s quiet and you’re wondering if the movie is just going to end, like Blair Witch, or will something else happen? Time passes, and then you hear it. THUMP. THUMP. Something is coming up the stairs, and it’s fucking big. (By the way, whoever did the sound editing on this movie–genius.) 

Well, I won’t spoil the end, but it was good. I realize that the ending was altered slightly to be “more Hollywood”, but I actually enjoyed it. The alternate, original endings which were shown at film festivals were good, and perhaps brainier and different in tone, but the ending I saw in the theater was fine. By that point I was freaked the fuck out, anyway, and watching the movie through my fingers like a 5-year-old.

What happened after the screen faded to black, however, sent me into fight or flight mode. The lights didn’t come back on. As a packed audience in this theater, we sat for maybe ten seconds before people started to panic. We were in total darkness. Obviously, the theater did that on purpose (perhaps this was a universal thing across theaters, to be part of the “experience”?), as right before the movie started a theater manager came in and told us to not just silence our phones, but turn them off. “If anyone even hears the buzz of a phone on vibrate or sees someone texting, you will be asked to leave and come back when you have more time to watch the movie”, he said. At the time I thought he was just being an unnecessary dick, but it was a ploy to make sure that when I wildly grabbed for my Iphone to navigate the dark theater, I would be shit out of luck, or at least have to wait the 30 (read: felt like infinity) seconds while my phone booted up. 

After what felt like three or four minutes but was probably more like sixty seconds, the lights finally, mercifully came on. The entire audience attempted to rush out of the theater at once, and it was chaos. I saw teenage girls in tears, with mascara all over their faces. The macho guys sitting next to me who’d laughed as I did for the first half of the movie were rushing down the aisle faster than anyone else. Driving home that night, even with my brother in the car, I was almost too anxious to drive. We stopped halfway home to get Slurpees, which I haven’t had in years, but I needed something that felt comforting. My brother and I both slept in the living room with the lights on, I on the couch and he on an armchair.

You may laugh, dear readers, at my PTSD-riddled plight. That’s okay. Head on out to your nearest movie theater (preferably on a Friday night, when it’ll be packed) and check out Paranormal Activity for yourself. I dare you to sleep easy that night.

Well, I’m going to tell you why you should give a shit, so hush up for a minute. Also, yes, it’s on the CW, but what’s with the Tyra hate? Top Model is pretty fabulous!

…*shifty eyes* …IGNORE ME! …No, really, keep reading.

I understand your skepticism, dear reader. To be honest, until the beginning of the fourth season, Supernatural was barely even on my radar as a potential nerdy obsession. I vaguely recall it getting decent reviews around the time the pilot premiered a few years ago, but at the time I was just starting university and wasn’t really in the market for a show that would make me look even nerdier than I already do (my DVD collector’s set of X-Files, proudly on display in my dorm room, gave me away anyway…don’t know why I was so concerned there), so I didn’t watch. But, after the initial buzz that comes with any new show on a semi-”big deal” network’s fall lineup, I heard nothing. NOTHING.

*cue crickets*

After I graduated university, I made the same choice as many of my peers to not get cable in my first “real adult” apartment. This was primarily due to cost, but also because everything I watched on a regular basis was readily available on Hulu or on DVD. Well, the thing about cutting yourself off from standard television is that you also lose the huge volume of commercials that tells you what’s new and cool and sexy. After about a year of TV-free life and having watched every DVD I own at least seventy times, I started taking recommendations from friends. The first three guys I asked all told me to watch Supernatural. I watched the pilot, and it was a match made in fangirl heaven (seriously, if you haven’t seen this show, go watch the pilot–the characters feel remarkably established and there’s never that feeling of “wait two or three episodes while the actors get used to the parts” …everyone on that show is a fucking champ). Sexy brothers with severe daddy issues save the world, Buffy style, on a weekly basis, with all the cinematography, lighting, and tone that made X-Files so successful. The recently departed Kim Manners, an X-Files alum himself, can get most of the credit there, having contributed to a significant amount of the Supernatural world building. And, for the Whedonverse fans out there, one of the writers was also the man responsible for the stupid awesome puppet episode from the final season of Angel. That should easily be reason enough to watch. 

Anyway, just as it seemed the cool, underground thing to watch this show (despite my incessant proselytizing) and I’d finally blown through four straight seasons on DVD, all of a sudden it’s being advertised everywhere! I’m seeing posters in Best Buy, top ratings on “what to watch” lists, even Perez Hilton mentioned one of the show’s stars in his blog a few times. Fans started coming out of the woodwork. What made this show so big, so fast?

Well, the circumstances that got me to watch seem to be more and more common: people are ditching “real TV” for Hulu and network website video players to catch their favorite shows. In the land of real TV, Supernatural is up against Grey’s Anatomy and  The Office every week, two of the most popular shows around. BUT! In Internet land, you can watch whatever you want, whenever you want. 

But, you may be asking, isn’t that exactly what happens with Tivo? No commercials, you watch things on your own time. This whole argument, foiled! Foiled, I say!

No, dear reader. I beg to differ. You’re speeding through commercials, but they’re still there. My friends and I had Tivo at university, and despite our own best efforts, if something was shiny or cool-looking enough, God frak us, we slowed it down and watched. Also, the live TV element of Tivo means that at some point, you’ll be channel surfing, which means you’ll probably run into commercials on a much more massive scale than you do on Hulu or some other kind of video service. So, the element of complete disconnect from mainstream commercials is just not there with Tivo, and it’s that disconnect that prompted me (and the others I know in a similar TV-free situation) to bring new programming into our lives solely on the recommendations of our friends. With Tivo, most people also set up “season passes” for the shows they watch the most. In Internet land, there’s no hard drive of shows piling up for me to watch, making me feel slightly guilty if I don’t watch. I watch what I want, when I want. To put it slightly more pretentiously, the recession-prone TV-free proletariat has created an artificial multimedia indie underground, and quality shows like Supernatural are finally reaping the benefits.

So, in conclusion, watch the fucking show. You’ll be glad you did.

ALSO: dearest readers, we at Fangirls: The Blog would love to know what shows/movies/radio plays you’ve discovered recently. Doesn’t matter if it’s not “new and hip”, just that it’s quality… Kiiiiind of the whole point we’re trying to make here.

The traditional blue box (the second picture down) is easily my favorite exterior rendering–that blue is just right–but the last cake on that list has a ridiculously gorgeous view of the control room inside! It was apparently achieved with mirrors and LED lights, but that TARDIS really does look bigger on the inside. Gorgeous, I tell you!

I present: The Twilight dildo. It fucking sparkles.

Let me be exceedingly clear. I am pro-dildo. A girl, occasionally, just needs to get her needs met. This, I understand. But there are no excuses in the world for a sparkling dildo that you can put in the freezer so it feels like you’re fucking an undead creature of the night. You know what that’s called? Necrophilia. It’s a corpse, covered in glitter.

…Gah. *shudder* 

There is one redeeming quality to all of this. If these Twilighters (and do these people also have a geriatric fetish? There is just no good that can come of anything Twilight, is there?) are all at home, fucking themselves with sparkly dildoes and thinking of Edward Cullen, I don’t have to look at them as often. And neither, dear reader, do you.

So, dear reader, what can you expect from Fangirls: The Blog? My lovely co-writer and I created our sisterly-bonded blogs to have a safe place for fun, yet chic, nerdery to exist. While we may indulge in the occasional Comic Shop Guy-style rhetoric (Worst. Movie. EVER!) or sexytimeboi lovefest (David Tennant, I will have your nerdy Scottish babies!), we intend to post on a variety of subjects that will hopefully be fun for all. We will also post on different aspects of fandom itself: what it means to us to be fangirls, fangirl etiquette, nerd dating, cosplay 101, how to deal with a real-life Comic Shop Guy, etc. This side of the blog, specifically, will be a mix of pop culture goofiness and moderately serious analysis of pop culture shit I happen to find super interesting. I like picking characters apart and seeing how they tick, so expect some psychology nerd ramblings, as well.

I know this entire blog and what it means (or what it will mean) can’t be explained entirely in a two paragraph mission statement; but, hopefully you, dear reader, can have faith. We writer-types at Fangirls: The Blog hope to earn your undying fannish devotion, but we’ve gotta keep at this whole “blogging” thing for a while before anything like that happens, yeah? Okay! Keep reading, and may the force be with you!

*Or House, for that matter. But since House is one cool motherfucker, we’ll let him slide.