Posting more. Oh, it's gonna happen.

Okay. Okay. I get it. You feel abandoned. Despite my being the 23,478^th best blog you've read, you took the time and you gave me a shot and how did I repay your kindness? I ran. I'm not excusing my behavior but to be fair, indications of my instability were made pretty clear early on, soooo... I'm excusing my behavior.

I'm not going to try and make it up to you because that would be an insult to us both. How? I've no idea. I just felt that was a good way to end the sentence while giving me a nice out. However, what I am going to do is keep on keepin' on! I'm going to blog. It may not be often, it may not last long, and it may not be good, but it will be done. Even if I'm the only one here, this blog will still make a sound! I owe you that much.

With that, I can think of no better way to kick things off than by resuming reiteration on how this isn't a horror blog with a months worth of horror content! I'm still a bit down on myself that I let last October go without any acknowledgment of my favorite month and letting another pass would be, just, ya know, worse. I may post the sporadic film review but knowing I can't commit to a movie a day – See? Acknowledgment. Personal growth already! - I didn't want to make that attempt. Besides, plenty of folks better than I will be taking care of that.

I am going celebrate the great characters of horror. Rather, my favorite characters. More specifically, The Most Fantabulous Femmes of Fright. I tried to branch out, I really did. The list was going to incorporate all characters of every horror medium but when I realized that by #25 it was entirely made up of final girls and sassy but doomed besties I knew I had to stop trying. Women of Fiction, my soul they own.

Some posses a universally recognized level of awesome while others may only be liked by me and those who might like something just because it has a vagina, but all have struck that chord in my feeling place. Eww, not that one! Gay, duh. There is no specific order. This isn't a countdown. Partially because there would be two twelve-way ties, partially because I watched Prom Night again the other night, thus reigniting my obsession with Wendy and good lawd, I gotta write about that bitch quick!

… Starting tomorrow. What? I'm really tiiiired.

Final Girl Five

What?! I can't believe my last two years worth of posts were somehow mysteriously deleted, never to be recovered by any means. GAH! All that hard work and dedication and man, they were sooo gooood. I'm sorry, everyone... Ah well, onward and upward.*

THE FINAL GIRL ELITE

Finally got around to Laurie and decided to grime the rest of 'em up some. Click on over to my DA gallery for the bigguns.

*That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Heroine > Villain

I don't root for the killer. When I was 6 years-old, I clutched my pillow tight hoping that pretty Ginny girl would kill that mean sack head guy. I clearly recall pumping my fist, yelling "YES!" when Laurie skewered Michael with a knitting needle (I was pretty paralyzed with fear that she might die when we got to the coat hanger). Years later as a (physical) grown-up, I was just as excited to watch Sidney lay the smack down on a myriad of Ghostfaces.

As far as I'm concerned, there is far too much hero worship going on for sadistic villains. I admire those who step up and end those reigns of terror (for however short-lived that may be) and wanted to honor them. I saw this awesome set of pop-artish vector posters done for superheroes somewhere (No, I can NOT vague it up anymore) and the idea for these ladies was immediate. I hope to do more and did start Laurie Strode last night but I'm kinda spent on them at the moment. The ebbs and flows are my routine with every artistic endeavor but Stretch's chainsaw really took it outta me!

For now, here are four of my most favoritest heroines of all the times!

The One I Would Save

As previously mentioned, this is not a horror blog. I feel I must repeat this so as to keep myself from veering toward what I think I not-so-secretly want it to be. I've already compiled a list of wonderfully valid reasons not to make it one  (the genre is being well cared for, my scattered brain patterns would never keep it solely horrorcentric, I have so many other things to share and, dammit, you will embrace them all!)

It's not like I could use this for general life happenings and assorted geekery and create a companion blog for all my horror needsOOH! I mean, no... bad idea. Despite intentions for this place to cater to all of my blogging whims I do hope you will understand that the scary movie gab will likely take precedent over most things. Not enough to garner any awards or let me into the cool horror blog clubs but, whatever. I'm a rebel. I don't need to be pigeonhold. *sniff* I'm my own person! (love me?)

Do you see the challenges I present to myself?

Onward! One of the many elements that inspired me to at last heave my crazy upon you (yes, someone to blame!) was Arbogast On Film's One You Might Have Saved. First posted two years ago, it prompted people to share which doomed character moved, connected with or made enough impact on them to toss a life preserver (or knife/gun/keener sense of awareness) to. It created a bit of a Blog-O-Thon Meme type thingy that still elicits passionate responses. I loved this hypothetical and immediately began to cogitate over my choices. Of course, also immediate was the realization that passing the Get Outta Death Free card to just one wasn't likely to happen. Surely Vistaprint could help with my dilemma! 

Unfortunately, my initial cap at three choices installed a manic mental revolving door, hurting my heart with each one I had to send back out to their often grisly fate. From that three begat five which begat ten until I had to step away from the topic in order to save my own life!... Or for less dramatic reasons, I forget. I let it sit for a day and when I returned to it I realized that amongst the incessant restructuring one choice remained non-negotiable. It was actually all quite simple; The less time spent roaming my head space the better. Think less, dive in and go with instinct.

So, as much as it pains me to leave Liz a 'head-on-a-stick', Tatum a victim of her own ample curves and keep Helen confined to the worst, most oblivious town ever populated by teleporting fisherman, there was, is, really only one choice: 

NANCY THOMPSON

I still recall the day I heard the news. The teenage brother of one of my parent's friends was over, captivating me with his vast knowledge of all things horror. The second he switched topics to Freddy Krueger I asked if he'd seen the recently released A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors. He launched into a wide-eyed elucidation of every detail - we really didn't give a crap about spoilers as kids, did we? - and I couldn't wait to actually see these images on screen. I wasn't allowed to see horror films in theaters yet, even though I'd probably seen every studio horror film on video up to this point, so I was enthralled. Seriously, this one girl can pull you into her dreams and does flips and there's this zappy wizard kid and this hot leather chick who fights Freddy with knives and holycrappingcrap did you just say NANCY WAS BACK?! 

Such poise, such elegance, such great conditioner. How our Nancy has grown! 

Clearly, I have just heard the most amazing thing to ever happen to the world. As he began the climactic battle, I was perched on my knees, fists clenched, leaning over a chair that had tipped about a dozen times in my exuberance by this point. Then, he said:

"She's hugging her dad and her face is like, 'what?' and she looks at her dad but he turns into Freddy and you see he totally stabbed her, man!"

There were a bunch of words that followed but after I forced him to repeat that heinous lie, "Yeah dude, Nancy dies!" I excused myself to go to the bathroom and cried. I didn't sob, I wasn't a blubbering mess on the floor but I sat on the edge of the tub and cried quietly for a few minutes. Washed my face, went back out and let him finish up but by that point, it was all meaningless. I no longer had any interest in seeing it.

Nancy Thompson Colby Dexter Carrington, if you please.

A few months later at a group sleepover, the movie picked was Dream Warriors. I didn't protest but the internal agony was growing by the minute. The movie began and I was enjoying it immediately. Patricia Arquette was kinda cool even before the gymnastics came into play and *GASP* Nancy. Just. Walked. In! Further proliferating my joy was the fact that all of the kids reacted positively to her appearance. The film went on and every minute was gold. The characters were cool, the kills were cool, something was always happening and the downtime for plot development was usually with Nancy so I was juuust fine. Then came the end. 

Nancy, Kristen, Kincaid and Joey were in joyful embrace because they thought it was over. For a second, so did I. Then Nancy's dumb dad had to apparate in. I bolted for the door and could hear my friend's asking where I was going but any answer would have been drowned out by their chorus of "No ways", "Oh my Gods" and one "Screw you!"

A few months later I forced myself to confront Nightmare On Elm Street: Part Crap in its entirety; Partly because I figured if I knew how she died, I could remedy this when I was making films. Long before I thought I wanted to make films, by the by. I found it ridiculous. I don't care that she was given one last swipe at him. Not for one second did I believe Nancy would fall for Freddy's ruse. No, in a just film, Nancy - who at 16 showed more courage, ingenuity and resilience than most twice her age - would have faked him out, stabbing "Daddy" with a knowing smirk as his facade dissipated. By then, Craig Wasson's junkyard exorcism would've worked it's magic and Nancy would be waving buh-bye with a triumphant smile on her face as Freddy e'sploded.  

Watching it a few years later, something else struck me, making the scene even more grim. When Nancy realizes she'd been stabbed, her expression is one of shock. She sees her father's visage give way to Freddy and it is then that she screams. However, it is not one of pain, it is a bloodcurdling cry of rage. In that moment she recognizes her defeat at the hands of her sworn enemy and it is a moment that continues to give me chills.

I don't even like looking at this! So you can imagine how tough it was to edit and load.

Some have argued that she completed her arc, she did all she could, squawk squawk white noise, but to that I reply "I hate you!" Oh. I'm sorry. No, I mean "Kill yourself!" Gah! Clearly, I need a moment...

God, I look 24 in this mirror!

All right. What I really meant was, "So what? You're wrong, poo head." Yes, that's better. I've never bought into the idea that it is okay for a character to die simply because select members of the audience haven't a clue where to take them or think it isn't logical for them to continuously evade their nemesis; A line of thinking disturbingly present among far too many horror fans when it comes to our heroines, but again, I've skidded off track. 

Why is it unbelievable Nancy could further elude Freddy's grasp when she already had for years? He seemed pretty surprised when Kristen pulled her into her dream. Why hadn't he been able to sense her presence all along? 'Cause Nancy knows stuff. Lotsa drugs, dream techniques and moving around her trademark grey streak to throw him off the trail were all very effective but deep down I think Freddy was kinda scared of finding her.

Cold comfort indeed.

Nancy wasn't the first Final Girl to win my love and devotion, nor is she my personal favorite (admittedly, it's a damn close race and on more than one occasion she shares the mantel). However, she is the greatest. She didn't merely react to the chaos in the moment, she was proactive. Her strength and determination were tempered with a genuine fear anyone would experience, no matter a teenager. Not only did she rise above it, she confronted that fear by bringing the fight directly to the bastard son of a hundred maniacs on his own turf, forcing him onto hers and ultimately defeating him with her intelligence and will. Through it all she never lost her compassion and put herself, arguably safe and Freddy-free, in harms way to help those in need.

"I'm into survival". Words Nancy once used to help poor, sweet, simple Glenn understand her determination. Words that someone woefully did not heed along the way in making Dream Warriors and it wasn't Wes Craven. While I could be thankful her untimely demise led, in part, to his giving Heather Langenkamp an excellent showcase in New Nightmare I'd rather Nancy triumphant. Instead I will continue to picture Nancy an eternal warrior, finally at peace but awaiting the moment to return to us from the "beautiful dream" Kristen sent her to.

... Ye know, before that damned Tuesday Knight screwed it all up.