The X-files: A Series In Review

Upon returning to Ohio towards the later part of May this year, I found myself in a quandry. The LOST series had recently ended for the season, and as that is really the only show I watch that is still in progress (I don't watch much TV, usually), I found myself in need of something else for my viewing pleasure. It is something of a habit of mine to watch an episode of something as I get ready for bed.

I wandered upstairs to my sister's room, and Lo, there was the complete X-files series on DVD, lined up in a neat little row on the shelf, ripe for the picking. It was settled. My summer would be an X-files summer.

Now, the X-files is one of those things that have always been there. I remember before I even moved to Ohio, when we still lived in Pennsylvania, sitting down to watch the pilot episode with my brother and sister. From then on, the X-files was a weekly staple. It became a part of the fabric of the Clark household, and part of the collective psyche between me and my siblings. The adventures of Mulder and Scully were things that were referred to often and with fondness. I went through junior high and high school watching the show.

At some point, probably around season 6, I stopped watching regularly, but still kept up with it, enough to know the basic gist of what was going on. That is, until I got busy with other things and stopped watching altogether somewhere along the latter part of season 8.

Well, last week I completed my X-files summer. Nine seasons and two feature films later, I am of the opinion that this series is far and away the best television show ever produced.

For those of you unfamiliar with the show, Special Agent Fox Mulder of the F.B.I. is something of a rogue, interested in the paranormal and unexplained cases, and as such is assigned the unit no one else wants: the X-files. His position in this unit is already established at the outset of the series. It is Special Agent Dana Scully who we see first enter the X-files. She is assigned there by her superiors because she is a rational scientist, sent to accompany Mulder as he investigates these phenomena, so that she may debunk Mulder and his paranormal theories with sound, rational and scientific facts.

Many of the episodes take the form of monster-of-the-week stories, Scully and Mulder hunting down various unexplained occurences, usually coming away with nothing conclusive. The rest of the episodes, the mythology episodes, deal with Mulder's past as he hunts for his sister, whom he believes was abducted by extraterrestrial beings when they both were children. This tragedy is what has led his life to the FBI, and the X-files.

Many of you might roll your eyes at this premise. Okay, that's fine. I freely admit that many of the episodes are outlandish, fantastical, even down-right silly. That's granted. That's not the reason I love this series so much. I could do without the monster-of-the-week episodes, because these episodes might have a cool or creepy idea to center around, but most of the time they don't develop the main plotline, or most importantly, the characters.

It is one of the tenants of story that plot does not make good characters. Good characters create plot. If I had to boil it down to one reason why I love the X-files series, it's because of the characters of Mulder and Scully.

It would be possible to look at the journeys of Mulder and Scully as two separate paths. But I won't do that here. Because I believe their journeys lie intertwined, and that's what makes them so powerful.

At the beginning of the series, Scully plays the foil to Mulder's belief, trying to dissuade him from leaps of faith when it comes to explanations for the cases which they investigate. Scully is a scientist, independent to the core, a rational thinker, was raised a Catholic, but since has strayed due to her scientific education and need for evidence in all things. Mulder is intuitive, a true believer, ready to believe any far-reaching, paranormal, or supernatural explanation. He is a man of faith in many things, not only a supreme being. He believes in the existence of extraterrestrial life, and his belief is what drives him and defines him, even when the facts are to the contrary.

It is hard to sum up how the characters get from point A to point B. But as Scully and Mulder pursue these cases together, Scully gradually begins to see things that her science and rationality will not explain, and Mulder's stubborn and ungiving faith begin to win her over.

I suppose the series could be summed up by the three recurring phrases that echo time and again throughout.

TRUST NO ONE.
I WANT TO BELIEVE.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE.

That last one, 9 times out of 10, graces the screen at the end of the introductory credits.

TRUST NO ONE - For a show all about conspiracies, misinformation, deceit and lies, this would seem a fitting phrase. However, the thing that makes this phrase so powerful, is, again, the journey that Mulder and Scully take together. Time after time they face down death together, saving each other's lives on numerous occasions, and eventually realize, when they are caught up together in a global conspiracy, that the only ones they can trust are each other. Scully's unyielding independence gradually softens, and she confides in Mulder in rare soft moments. Mulder's unflinching faith gets through to her, and she eventually takes on his cause, and he can finally let her in and trust her with everything.

I WANT TO BELIEVE - This phrase can be seen nearly every episode in the form of a poster hung in Mulder's office. It is, indeed, Mulder's faith that drives the X-files. But what happens when all evidence presented to you is contrary to what you know to be true? What happens when you can't tell the lies from the truth, and your friends from your enemies. See, it's not as easy as believing. Sometimes, you simply must say, I want to believe, because my desire to believe is all I have left. Mulder comes to this point so many times in the series, and it is Scully who holds him up, even she doesn't necessarily agree with him. She still encourages him to keep his faith and to never give up.

From the very beginning of the show, Scully wears a small gold cross around her neck, a symbol of the faith with which she was raised. Somewhere along the way, she lost that faith amidst the rational thought and scientific education that constituted her later life. But she never stopped wearing that cross. As the viewer watches her progression through the series, we see her rational personality crack, and Mulder's faith inspires her to rediscover her own, because her scientific explanations are no longer enough for what she has seen and experienced.

THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - Like any good story, the X-files is about Truth. Mulder's search for it, and Scully's gradual acceptance of it. What's so great about this phrase is that it admits that the truth is elusive, not easily found, but it does lie out there, somewhere, for those who are strong enough, brave enough, and have sufficient faith to find it. Mulder and Scully eventually do find it, together, a journey that they never could have made without the other. But even when they do find it, any evidence to prove it is destroyed and they are left with nothing but the knowledge that they are right. Sometimes, that is enough.

Mulder and Scully are superbly portrayed by David Duchovney and Gillian Anderson. Duchovney stayed with the series through season 7, then left, although his absence was written into the show, and he continues to appear in a few episodes leading up to the end of the series. Gillian Anderson starred in all nine seasons. (A side note: Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully just might be, in my opinion, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I could stare at her face for hours.)

To see these two act in the series is to see them become their characters, to the point where the viewer is familiar with them, can read their facial expressions, and feels their emotions. There are several moments when Gillian Anderson talks about Mulder after his disappearance, and the viewer believes that this is a real person. And when Gillian Anderson smiles, it's lights up the screen, because Scully is usually so stern and solemn. Likewise, Duchovney's sense of humor and wise-cracking is something I particularly appreciate about the series.

All in all, I guess you could say the X-files is a show about trust, faith, and the truth.

As Mulder and Scully take the journey together, their lives become intertwined, until they both realize that they cannot live without the other. Their journey from partners in the FBI, to confidants, to friends, and eventually to two people who realize that they cannot live without the other is inspiring. And makes this show about one more thing, above all.

It is a show about Love.

Real love. Devoted love. The kind of love that goes to bat for the other person, that sacrifices everything, including itself for the well-being and protection of the other.

The last entry in the series is the film THE X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE. There is a rumor of a third film, the last, that would be the end all of everything. But even if it doesn't get made, I am completely satisfied with where the characters of Mulder and Scully end. It leaves them on a good note. Not the best note. That's what I love about it. It's an ambiguous end that promises nothing. It merely says that for now, things are good.

The characters themselves sum it up best at the end of the film.

Mulder: "Go help the boy, and then we'll get out of here. You and me."

Scully: "Away from the darkness?"

Mulder: "I don't think it works that way. I don't think we find the darkness. I think the darkness finds us."

The X-files is a series that faces hard truths, real truths, about the existence of truth and the battle for it, about trusting each other along the way, about never giving up faith, and finding a love that will help you face the darkness that is ever present.

A Melancholy Anniversary.

Hi. How are you?

Glad to hear it.

Me? No, I'm fine.

Well, yeah I AM fine, I'm just thinking. Nothing's really wrong. It's just one of those days.

You see, I realized today, at some point after I had woken up, that classes started for the fall semester at Liberty University today. And for the first time in five years, I'm not there.

Okay, technically, I wasn't in classes last year. But I was there, I was in Lynchburg, and I still got to do most of the regular college stuff: hang out on the dorm, go to the dollar movies, do stupid random things, make funny videos, stay up til all hours of the morning. I even ate at the rot a few times, including one glorious, bleary-eyed morning when we shared the best breakfast in the history of the universe.

I took a walk today, a night-walk, which is, in my opinion, the best kind of walk there is. Second only to the night walks that take place with friends at your side, such as the ones I used to take earlier in the year, with the legendary William Decker-in-the-face Monthie III, and the epic Danny Strutter-Buckets Latin Smith. I miss walking amidst the orange glow of the lights of LU, wandering aimlessly around campus, talking and thinking and laughing and enjoying the night.

On this night walk I got to thinking, and a deep sadness settled over a part of my heart, the part of my heart that will always be that dude who lived on 22-3, rooms 323, 309, 315, and most memorably, 305. I realized that I may never again take such a walk across the university campus, let alone with my trusty companions. I realized I may never again hear the sound of Bill coming down the hall, never hear the rattle of door handle as he bursts into our room to declare the latest news in his often hilarious and usually frustrated life. I may never again be the victim of Danny Latin's McGuyver-esque schemes. I may never again hear the eloquent rants of Sir Ryan Trammell and be able to laugh with all of my friends in the same room.

That part of my heart can hardly take that thought...

What? Yeah, I'm fine.

I just keep wondering if that sound will always be in my head.

What sound? You know, that sound...

...The sound of the hall door of 22-3 slamming closed, echoing down the hall of my mind...

That's what I feel like.

Like a door has been shut, and will never open again.

Two-word Prayers

I don't know about you, the one or two of you who read this blog, but I've never been a fan of long, drawn-out prayers, spending hours and hours immersed in a spiritual haze trying to break through to some mystical plane where God's presence can be felt. (A thought enters my mind: Jerry Falwell spent hours and hours in prayer, and look at his life. Perhaps we all should spend more time in prayer) I spend a goodly amount of time during my day talking to God, because I've always believed that prayer isn't something that happens at a designated time and place. I believe prayer should be a conversation, one that never really ends, but merely one we step away from for a bit.

It is with this in mind that I write this post. I was taught in my english classes at Liberty University that brevity is often much more powerful than eloquent speeches and wordy rants. And really, sometimes when I pray my own penchant for words fails me, and I can only think of one or two to utter to the One who has so completely saved me. I've been thinking about writing this for awhile, and I hope this encourages someone out there in this infinite void through which we all interact.

Without further ado, five two-words prayers that have helped get me through time and time again.

1. Thank You - The other day, my mother went to the mall, and when she got home she handed me a brand new shirt, randomly. I love it. It's exactly the kind of thing I would pick out for myself, and she just saw it and bought it for me out of the loving-kindness of her heart. I thanked her several times. But later, after I had gone out and come home after everyone was in bed, I went downstairs and saw the shirt again. I looked at it, and this small item reminded me once again of how extraordinarily blessed I am. And all I could say into the darkness of my basement apartment, was thank you. I don't know how many times I said it, but it was more than three. I don't think God requires some grand display of our gratitude. And those two words were some of the most genuine words that I had uttered that day, stemming from genuine thankfulness for everything He has given me.

2. Help Me - This is a big one. It has many applications. When I can feel myself getting angry or frustrated. When I don't really have time to say anything more in the way of prayer before I have to deal with a tricky situation or say something to someone I may not want to say. Or for courage when I get up to speak in front of people at church. I find I use this very often. Sometimes there just isn't time to pray anything else, and I believe God hears when we call for Him, and His strength has helped me through more times than I can count.

3. Forgive Me - This is pretty self-explanatory, but no less important. The older I get, the more I realize - and the more I'm willing to admit - what a major screw-up I am. In the past it's been hard for me to admit my mistakes, especially to myself. But God sees right through me, and that's actually more of a comfort than anything else. We're all guilty of trying to put on a good exterior, but when I catch myself falling back into something that I've repented of - my mouth, my mind, the way I sometimes treat others - I have to go to Him again, and start over. These two words are a fresh start every single time.

4. Lead Me - I've used this I don't know how many times, especially at this point in my life. As much as I believe in the will of man, I also believe in the leading of God. I don't so much get daily inclinations of God leading me as I get one big one once in awhile. I think the rest of the time, God is more interested in who we are than what we do. I think He shows us just enough of the path ahead for us not to completely face-plant, and enough for us to learn. A step at a time. Recently, I haven't really known what the next step is for me. And these two words are my way of asking him to show me. I want to be able to look back at the end of my life and know that I haven't wasted it.

5. Change Me - This should be number one. Not a day goes by when I don't pray this over and over. I know myself better than anyone, except God. I know what a jerk I can be. Whereas salvation is a one-time deal (thank the Lord), redemption is a daily process. There are things that need weeded out of my life, out of my heart and mind, and I believe God honors our desire when we honestly want him to change us into the men He wants us to be. I find when I DON'T pray this, I can see myself slipping away into selfish-mode. We are all in the process, to a greater or lesser degree, of becoming. What we are becoming is up to us. I'd like God's help in the process.

Back from the Brink (Notes On a New Optimism)

I find that blogging serves as a sort of synthesis, one in which I ask myself to evaluate my life and come up with a cohesive summation of where I am, what I'm doing, and where I'm going, drawing from the endless spectrum of variables, circumstances, elements, and general goings-on in my life that have brought me to this point.

For this particular blog (this being my, hopefully, return to a semi-routine lifestyle of bloggery) I draw from events over a year in the making. None of which I will go into detail about here, but if you would like to know more specifics, just ask, and I will tell. That's something that you may not know about me. People tend to see me as a closed book. And I am. But I would also remind you that to know the contents of a book, one has simply to work up sufficient curiosity to reach out and turn the cover.

Rather than beat a dead horse and recount the fact that I've had a terrible year, let it be enough to say that I have been at the bottom of the proverbial pit, the end of my rope, and faced with a very bad choice indeed. One which I never intend to entertain again. Several factors have swooped into my life that have pulled me back from the brink, the edge of whatever chasm upon which I stood. Not the least of these is a very close friend, and a small but vital piece of information that explained a lot of things (and which I wish I had known much, MUCH earlier).

Cryptic allusions aside, I know that many people around me are going through a similar trial, one that echoes my own. And so I write this.

I have never been a particularly cheery person, nor am I naturally optimistic, intrinsically bright-sided, or any other manner of glass-half-full disposition. That may be changing.

Not that things are really looking any better than they were. Bills are piling on. Work is scarce. Genuine friends are hard to come by. Even those you love can become an irritation or obstacle. It is not out of circumstances that this choice comes to me. It is out of necessity.

See, there comes a point, I believe, where one has to make a choice, a relatively permanent choice. Not a choice of how to live your life, but a choice on how to view your life. I am butchering what, to me, is a beautiful idea in my head.

Basically, what it comes down to is this: Choose one, hope or despair.

Those of you who have not walked the razor's edge of despair, I hope and pray you never have to. I have, and will again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. But someday circumstances will bear down upon me once again. And I'll have to make the choice all over again.

For a long time, I have lived in despair. Not all of this is my fault. Some of it is inherited (that fact helps, but does not erase). I let it weigh on me for so long, I didn't know there was something different. And with age, maturity, experience, and reality, despair becomes like a multiplication of gravity, increasing exponentially, pressing me further and further into itself.

At the risk of making it sound like some corny resolve, some heroic effort to convince myself things will be otherwise, I have decided to no longer let this be the case.

Yes, bills are pressing in. But I have a job, and I have enough to pay them. Barely, but they get paid, in no small part because of the provision of God.

Yes, I still go home alone. To an empty room, to an empty part of the house. But I have friends. Good friends. Friends that may not say much, but I know I could count on them if I had to.

Yes, I am working a crappy, bad-hours, underpaid, manual-labor job. But I have work.

Yes, my dream of being a writer is unfulfilled. But I have time to write. My book is taking shape. I have found what one of my good friends recently wrote about in his blog: I found that about which I am most passionate, and I am pursuing it. Though no one else sees, comments, asks, or believes. And I believe it is just a matter of time.

Even if it is not, it's alright. I will save what little money I make, and I will put a down payment on a house. A quiet place. An old place. Perhaps a small place. Perhaps not the nicest. But it will be mine. And I will write. And I will keep in contact with those people most important to me. And I will commune with my savior. And perhaps I will find a woman who loves me, respects me, and is brave enough, cares enough, and understands enough to step into my little world and find my excuse for a heart. Because you know what? If a woman requires a huge house, a nice car, and money to burn in exchange for her hand in marriage, then she can keep that hand, for all I care. I will take care of my wife and cherish her with everything I have in me and at my disposal. But not because she requires it. I will do so because I require it of myself.

See, it's not about being optimistic for optimism's sake. It's about survival.

If I continued to wallow in despair, I would wither and fade and die. So I was wrong. It's not a choice. I have no choice. It's necessary. I refuse to be a man of such weak faith and fortitude as to let my circumstances dictate my future.

This will be the last post in reference to the past year. I resolve to leave it there.