THE MOVIE THAT CHANGED MY LIFE (by Corey Harnish)

As a former film student, I am reluctant to answer the simple question, “What’s your favorite movie?” With so many films having impacted me throughout my life, it’s very hard for me to pinpoint the ONE to represent them all... to represent me Corey Harnish. Perhaps I’m putting too much weight onto an innocent question. When starting film school asking this question was how we (as students and about to spend four years of our lives together) got a first impression of each other. You would judge a classmate's taste by his/her answer. Everyone was afraid to say the wrong title. “Pulp Fiction” was a banal answer. “Star Wars” was too nerdy. “Trois couleurs: Bleu” was too pretentious. That stigma still follows me to this day. Does your favorite movie have to be a masterpiece? No.

In fact the movie that has most impacted me and my life isn’t a very good movie at. It’s very flawed. A structural and tonal mess. And yet I love it. I’m not alone (thank God) because this film has a cult following. The film I speak of is...

GREMLINS.

The 1984 Warner Bros. horror-comedy directed by Joe Dante and Executive Produced by Steven Spielberg. In fact it is the first film released under the newly formed Amblin Entertainment. Gremlins was originally scripted by Christopher Columbus (director of Home Alone and first two Harry Potter films) as a straight out horror creature feature. Spielberg decided to blend tones by making the Gremlin creatures be just as funny as they are scary. Director Dante took that note and ran with it. The film was a huge hit with a minor controversy over the film’s violence for a PG rated film which along with Indiana Jones And The Temple of Doom motivated the need for a new rating PG-13.

Why does this movie speak to me? To answer that I have to mentally travel back in time to when I was a child. I recall seeing a commercial for the television broadcast premiere of Gremlins around the time the second film was opening in theaters. The images of Christmas, monsters both furry and scaly, green slime, and the terrific theme by Jerry Goldsmith tugged ay curiosity. I saw only half of the movie (with numerous commercial interruptions). I recall having to go somewhere to do something with my Dad. What I saw had such an impact on me that I begged my Mom to rent the video. She did more than that... she bought it. I remember sitting in the car alone while my Mom went inside. She came out and held the VHS up to the window with a smile. I probably watched that VHS tape a bazillion times. In fact I was banned from watching it because I would act like a Gremlin after watching it. To outsmart my parents I switched the cases of Gremlins and E.T.. That way when my parents asked me if I was watching Gremlins I could show them the empty E.T. case and say that was what I was watching. It didn’t work.

What Gremlins did for me was spark my imagination. It was such an odd mix of humor and horror that I wasn’t sure when to laugh. As I look back to the short films I’ve directed or the features I’ve written I notice a odd humor that I think comes subconsciously from the awkwardness of numerous Gremlin viewings as a child. I was a weird kid and my love for that movie just pushed me further out into strange-dom. During a parent teacher conference, Mrs. Simms my second grade teacher showed various drawings of creatures and monsters to my Mom expressing concern over the unusual imagery. My Mom asked me not to draw that stuff at school.

Now when I watch the film I see the flaws. It can’t make up its mind if it wants to be a horror or a comedy. Some of the jokes and references are so dated that they no longer have resonance. And of course there is the infamous sad Santa story that I go back and fourth on how I feel about. But watching it makes me recall how I felt at age five or six watching the film. Little odd details that made in impression to me as a child.

Perhaps I love Gremlins because it reminds me of my childhood. The days when I didn’t have to work to earn money and play was my biggest concern. One thing is for sure, Gremlins impacted and molded my imagination as child. Then, Star Wars took off where Gremlins left off.

Twenty some odd years later I still draw monsters.



Just so you know: Corey Harnish and I went to film school together. We were in all the same classes freshman year. During school, we liked to dine out together and gossip about people.

THE MOVIE THAT CHANGED MY LIFE (by Tom Parks)

For the first time in my memory, the Indians were portrayed as the good guys. The storyline of John Dunbar (Kevin Costner) and his growing relationship with Stands with a Fist (Mary McDonnell) intrigued me. I was also very moved by Kicking Bird (Graham Greene) as he guided John into the heart of the tribe.

In the film, not a single "White Guy" is a lovable character. In fact, they grow even more unlikeable as they eventually take aim, shoot and kill "Two Sox" -- the wolf that has become John's friend.

I like that all the bad guys meet an untimely end and that when John and Stands with a Fist finally depart the tribe, their future is left up to the audience.

DANCES WITH WOLVES was originally developed to follow some TV program. None of the smart money guys wanted to invest in it as a film. It had too many problems -- too long a story, not enough star power, the use of subtitles, etc. The film's genre was not in vogue at the time as the last three Hollywood Westerns had lost money. To make the film, Kevin Costner had too invest a large amount of his own money.

The result? Arguably, one of the most popular western films ever made.

I must have good taste.



Just so you know: Tom Parks is my grandpa. His love of showtunes (among a great many other things) has greatly influenced my taste.

THE MOVIE THAT CHANGED MY LIFE (by Keenan Porterfield)

Video Tapes

The 1990’s. I can’t express how thankful I am that this was the decade that I spent my childhood. While today’s innovations are truly amazing, there’s just nothing like going to Blockbuster and renting a VHS.

Growing up in Virginia, one of my favorite things to do was peruse the video stores. Mostly, I got to do this when my mom went to the grocery. You see, back in the good ol’ days, places like Kroger had video rentals inside them. These should not be confused with the vending machines cluttering convenience stores today. These were actual brick and mortar stores with aisles full of VHS tapes...and I loved them.

While my parents would shop for groceries, they would often let me look at the tapes to pass the time. I was not allowed to see 90% of the movies in the store but that didn’t stop me from studying every inch of the box art and imagining what these “forbidden” films were all about. It fascinated me. I remember the covers for films like Jason Goes to Hell, Child’s Play and The Good Son. My imagination went wild thinking about these films. And as great as Disney cartoons are, there came a day when I looked through my pile of clamshell VHS boxes and said, “This is not enough.”

You see, I felt this way because I had been given a taste of what lay beyond the world of children’s cinema. For one night, I wasn’t a child but just one of many moviegoers on a Friday, experiencing something extraordinary.


June 11, 1993

It was a wedding and I was five. A family friend was getting married and at this point, I couldn’t tell you who. All I knew was I had to dress in uncomfortable clothes and be on my best behavior. I was a good kid so I didn’t act up, but inside, I was screaming.

My sister was the “flower girl” in the ceremony but I was just another patron sitting quietly in a pew, desperately wanting to leave. The “ringbearer” was a boy about my age and he too, wanted nothing to do with this wedding. He, on the other hand, didn’t mind showing it. He was running around causing as much trouble as he could, kicking and screaming, rolling on the floor, etc. His mom was terribly embarrassed and was ready to do anything to get him to behave. It actually got to the point where she had to say, “If you walk down that aisle like a good boy and stop this nonsense, I’ll give you whatever you want.” Not the best parenting move but I suppose she was desperate. The kid looked to his mom and agreed to behave under one condition...he was to be allowed to go see the new movie that came out that day. A movie titled Jurassic Park.

Let me back up for a minute. Yes, this was the day of a wedding, but to many, it was the release date of the highly anticipated film, Jurassic Park. I knew about the movie. How could you not? It was the one being advertised everywhere you looked. It was the one being labeled on the news as NOT FOR CHILDREN. It was the one that every kid on earth wanted to see but was not allowed to. It was the movie about dinosaurs.

As much as I desired to see the movie, I was FIVE YEARS OLD. There was no way I was going to see it. It would give me nightmares. I wouldn’t sleep for months. It would scar me for life if it didn’t kill me first. I wanted to see it more than anything.

Back to the kid who knew how to get what he wanted. He had given his mother an ultimatum. With the ceremony about to start, what choice did she have? She gave in. She agreed. The kid was going to see Jurassic Park.

Well, good for him. Congratulations on finding a loophole. I, like most kids, would have to wait another eight years until I was “old enough” to see this PG-13 horror the world was talking about. I would get to go back to Aladdin and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids and continue to dream about this mysterious new film just out of reach. And this would have been the case were it not for another player in this story. My uncle Randall.

My uncle was also at the wedding. He sat next to me and we joked around while we waited for the ceremony to start. It wasn’t like we were very close or anything, I lived an hour and a half away from my extended family and only saw them on special occasions, like weddings. My uncle is great but when he said we were going to skip the reception and go see Jurassic Park, I knew he was joking. Thanks for the thought but my parents will make me go down with this ship. I’m not allowed to see the movie, but even if I were, we drove a long way to be at this wedding, leaving would be rude, it just isn’t a possibility. My uncle kept talking about it but I never gave it a second thought.

The wedding ended. Congratulations to the happy couple. I don’t know anybody and I don’t care. I want to go home. It’s past my bedtime. I hate this.

I arrive at the reception with my family when my uncle comes over to talk to my parents. I’m geared up to watch some old people dance and try to stay entertained for the next four hours of torture. But I had nothing to dread because my parents informed me that I was not going to be staying. That I would instead be getting in a car and driving out of town to the nearest theatre. I was, in fact, going with my uncle to see a movie. And that movie was Jurassic Park.

I couldn’t believe it. If this was a joke, it wasn’t funny. But soon I realized that nobody was joking. My mom and sister would be staying for the reception but my uncle, cousin and father were going to be joining me to see the film.

It wasn’t until years later that my mom told me the reason she agreed to let me go. My uncle had asked if it was alright and she just couldn’t tell him “no”. It was rare that I got to spend time with him and if he wanted to do this with me, she was going to let him. My parents did think it would scare me and give me nightmares but on this night, I suppose, they just thought, “what the hell”.

I’ll never forget it as long as I live. The drive to the theatre late at night. I had never seen a real movie in a theatre before, and certainly not at this hour.

I remember thinking about the title of the film on the drive. “Jurassic Park”...the only “park” I knew about referred to the park my mom took me to with a jungle gym. I imagined dinosaurs going down a slide and swinging on monkey bars. Needless to say, I had no clue what I was about to see.


The Screening

Adrenaline pumped through my veins with an aggression I had never experienced. My uncle sat beside me and acted like he was scared and I would have to hold his hand to help him get though the scary parts. This made me feel big and I couldn’t wait for the movie to start.

The screen went black and the score began to “thump” rhythmically as the title cards displayed...

Universal Pictures Presents.

An Amblin Entertainment Production.

JURASSIC PARK.

To this day, these titles along with John Williams’ score send shivers down my spine. Cold chills, hairs on end and shivers. This is as good as it gets. And before the movie even got going, I was hooked.

It’s a rare and amazing moment when you discover, in an instant, how you want to spend the rest of your life. I had this moment when I was five in a small theatre in Virginia. There are no words to express the way I felt coming out of that theatre. Whatever happened in that room I was just in...I had to be a part of it. I didn’t know how or in what capacity but I knew that I would spend the rest of my life trying to bottle up the feeling I just experienced.


The Film

There is no question that Jurassic Park changed my life. This movie has more to do with who I am today than anything else beyond my upbringing. First, this was the movie that introduced me to movies. It was pure magic. The late night screening on opening night showed me that movies were not something to pass time but were instead something to experience. This was an event more than a film.

Second, it redefined filmmaking. This was an aspect I wouldn’t really appreciate until later in life but this film was something never before seen.

Third, the story is unique and well acted. Take away the hype and special effects and you still have a great film. This becomes more rare with each passing day.

To me, movies are experiences that filmmakers create to put an audience through. These are sometimes good experiences and sometimes bad experiences but the goal should always be for the audience to take something away. This is just the coolest thing. An awesome art form.

Most blockbuster movies today fall flat because they rely so much on CGI and spectacle. If you watch Jurassic Park today, you will see that it not only holds up but truly puts to shame so many of the attempts at summer blockbusters that we have seen since. Jurassic Park was the movie made on the edge of two styles of filmmaking. It was a hybrid of physical animatronics and puppetry combined with the newest in computer generated imagery. These two styles were used to complement each other and bring to life something that was previously impossible. It was ground-breaking.

The toys that were made for this movie also hold a special place in my heart. I had many of them and played with them often. It is strange, I suppose, that I never had any interest in the dinosaur toys. At the time, for some reason, I only wanted the characters, the people. It was only until the past few years that this came to mind and I really wondered why that was. My friends, also Jurassic Park fans, had all the dinosaurs and they were their favorites. I never owned a single one by choice. While I didn’t think this way as a child, I think subconsciously I was pointing to something that I currently feel about the film.

I take a lot of heat for this thought because on the surface, it doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense. But, I will explain.

“Jurassic Park isn’t about dinosaurs.”

There. I said it. I said this recently and got many responses. None were agreements. “Of course it’s about dinosaurs, Keenan, are you stupid?” Well...yes, I am a little stupid, but allow me to explain. The movie, to me, is about the sense of wonder and seeing something impossible. This is what attracts me to the film and why I’m not fond of the sequels. I believe that the “dinosaurs” could be replaced with a number of things (most wouldn’t be as cool or marketable) that would allow the story to retain its best attributes. These people, the paleontologists, have lived their entire lives studying bones, imagining what these creatures must be like in real life. They are then, given the opportunity to see them, impossible as it may be. They no longer have to imagine, they are given the chance to live it. And yes, the dinosaurs attack and lead the characters on a great adventure. This rounds out the movie but doesn’t make the movie. The action is not the heart of the story.

This is why the sequels don’t work for me. They involve too much of the “real world” off the island. They involve corporations and money and villains. I like how the original film is self contained on the island. When they leave, the movie is over. It’s like a dream. We don’t need to see them back home and shouldn’t. There are no big villains in the first film either. Some characters want to take advantage of the science for profit but they are not the overall threat of the film. The dinosaurs can’t be purely antagonists because they are only acting the way they were designed. The problem is that man and dinosaur, by nature, were not meant to coexist.

I love the fact that the film is not about some evil scientist trying to make money by bringing back the dinosaurs from the dead. Most approaches to the subject would turn out this way I feel. Instead, John Hammond is a man that wants to show the world something they’ve never seen. That’s it. That’s his motive. The characters dealing with what they are seeing, something that cannot be yet are allowed to experience, is what the movie is about.

I’ve always felt that Jurassic Park was in itself an allegory for filmmaking. Intentional or not, I see John Hammond as a character very close to that of Steven Spielberg. He wants to give an audience an experience they could never have elsewhere. This is what Spielberg did for me. He made dinosaurs real. He gave me that experience. I don’t think it was lost on Spielberg when he cast Richard Attenborough, a film director, as Hammond.

So yes, to me, Jurassic Park isn’t about dinosaurs but the feeling you get from seeing something spectacular, experiencing something impossible. And until somebody does bring dinosaurs back, films are where we will be able to have these experiences. And that is why on June 11, 1993, I decided I wanted to be a filmmaker.



Just so you know: Keenan Porterfield and I went to film school together. He became one of my favorite people when we sat next to each other on a train ride from New York to Greensboro and talked about life and movies for nearly 8 hours straight.

MOVIE APPRECIATION MONTH, CALL FOR MINI-ESSAYS

Sometime in 1961, my grandmother and grandfather went to see a newly released movie in the theater. Before arriving at the cinema, they ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, where they ingested massive amounts of garlic bread. When they sat down in their seats at the theater, people immediately began moving away from them and sitting elsewhere. A few minutes passed before my grandparents realized everyone was avoiding them because their breath reeked horrendously of garlic.

When she recounted this story for me, my grandmother told me she was embarrassed for less than a minute.... because before she had time to really think about it, the movie started and what transpired on screen caused her to forget everything -- including her humiliation.

The movie my grandparents saw that evening was WEST SIDE STORY -- and the experience was such a memorable one that my grandmother was able to recall it very vividly nearly 50 years later. It was a movie that changed her life.

I was four-years-old when my parents took me to see BEAUTY AND THE BEAST in the movie theater -- and I still remember it in very lucid detail. It was the movie that set the cogs in motion for the rest of my life. I'd go so far as to say that it laid down the foundation for my morals (or at least I like to think it did). More than that, it was the first movie to make me weep (with tears falling down at age four, I had no idea what was happening to me). The best part of it is that I still get the same feeling watching it nowadays that I did when I was a child. It never gets old.

There's something about how the film's lyricist Howard Ashman was dying of AIDS while working on it. It feels like a Swan Song -- one last piece of wisdom shot out into the world, a statement that seeks to tell us (its viewers) what's really important in life. I've often supposed that it's this quality that makes BEAUTY AND THE BEAST such an indelible story that resonates and refuses to age....

But I'm not really here to talk in great detail about why WEST SIDE STORY and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST matter. My mentioning them is merely to lay down a little groundwork for what I really want to talk about.

Recently, I have decided to devote my days to ensuring that motion pictures are around for generations to come. Part of an archivist or preservationist's duty is to promote movies as not only a great means of entertainment, but also, and most especially, as a great form of communication and collective experience.

The month of February boasts a lot of trappings -- Black History Month, Valentine's Day, President's Day... On occasional years (like this one), we even get an extra day tacked onto it. It's a pretty special time -- a time that often plays host to the Academy Awards, which make it a popular period for film discussion. As film buffs already treat it as a kind of holiday season, why not also dub it "Movie Appreciation Month"?

Well, that's exactly what I'm attempting to do.

I had an interesting conversation with my pal Keenan the other day over e-mail. He sent me a couple of paragraphs on why he found MONEYBALL to be one of the best films of the year. From what he wrote, I found a considerable amount of both amusement and inspiration. From what he wrote, I realized I love listening to my friends talk about how viewing certain movies made them feel or "changed their lives."

I've always been a huge fan of essay compilations whereby various celebrities and public figures discuss THE FILM that had a huge impact on them. Why not start just such a compilation via this very blog? During the month of February, I want to collect mini-essays from friends, relatives and other sorts of acquaintances on THE FILM that had a profound influence on them. I'll post them right here, so we can all basque in how awesome movies are...

Sound like something you'd be interested in doing? Write something about a certain film, then send it to me... PLEASE.

I need to redeem myself for my previous blog entry whereby I compared a couple movies to eating a poop sandwich, which (I realize in hindsight) probably isn't that cool.

Ciao for now -- and hope to hear from you soon!

THE GIRL NAMED LISBETH

I embarrass pretty easily -- especially with this silly little blog. I go back and re-read old posts and lament about how ridiculous I sound. Did I really have to put up that stupid-ass picture of Katherine Heigl and T.R. Knight in my post about doing good deeds? And why on earth did I feel the need to share my sad-sap poetry? WHY?

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of the way--

I'm going to share another embarrassing little tidbit about myself -- one I'm sure I'll later feel self-conscious about sharing.

I've seen THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (y'know the movie version that came out less than two weeks ago?)

Four times.

I'm stinkin' obsessed.

All right.

Glad I got that off my chest.

I guess I feel a little foolish because it's not even that great of a movie -- not the kind of movie a person sees four times in the theater, anyway. It's no TITANIC. If one really thinks about it -- between reading the book and seeing the Swedish movie a couple of times, I've probably witnessed the "Dragon Tattoo" story close to 7 or 8 times. I thought I put it away last year, but seeing the new movie brought it all back and, lately, I can't stop thinking about it.

However, it appears I'm not necessarily alone in this. There seem to be a few other enthusiasts who are equally spellbound and unable leave it alone.

I'm not going to sugar coat it or dance around it. We all know why the franchise works. It's certainly not the piffle of a murder mystery, or the Nazis or the middle-aged journalist. No -- it's one Lisbeth Salander... and also her weird, paradoxical bond with the middle-aged journalist.


Check out the stuff that's being written about the recently released film. In addition to the usual cavalcade of reviews, there are a lot of legitimate essays being dedicated to psychoanalyzing and breaking down the appeal of Stieg Larsson's ultimate troubled heroine.

With this blog entry, I thought I'd nix being unique in favor of adding my own hearsay to the noise that's already being made.

People talk a great deal about Lisbeth's wherewithal and sense of justice -- how despite being taken advantage of, she never allows herself to become a victim; how despite being a total waif, she can totally kick everyone's ass; how despite her looking like Sid Vicious... she's a genius.

There's inherent appeal in somebody that looks very threatening, but is actually just damaged -- somebody who, despite the damage done her at the hands of other human beings, can be loyal and even heroic. In short, it's all about contrast. In this day and age, it's always the hero that looks like the villain that captivates us most. Maybe it's because in this day and age, we live in a "nobody can be trusted" mentality and the line between good and bad is so often an ambiguous one.

Personally, I like her quiet shift in character. At the beginning of the story, she's unable to so much as look at another person in the eye while talking to him/her. By the end, she's willing to risk her life for another human being. This is the particular strength of David Fincher's film. We really attain a sense of how Lisbeth warms and grows. Pay close attention to the scene where she lies in bed next to Mikael and quietly confesses to him that she burned her father alive when she was twelve, or the scene where she plays chess with her brain-damaged former guardian, Palmgren, and tells him that she's finally made a social stride by making a friend. (Actress Rooney Mara is a friggin' virtuoso)


Anyway, I'm more than a sucker for this type of character arc -- the skittish, a-social personality who learns to trust.

There are hundreds of other aspects of Salander to be fascinated with. Clearly -- otherwise there wouldn't be so many articles and dissections. Contrasts, retribution, mystery -- the list of items that makes us empathize with and feel curious about her are a "how-to" list for writers on creating engaging characters.

But here is why I feel compelled to write this blog entry nearly four months after my last feeble post. It's something that critics and analysts have breezed by, but have never genuinely speculated on or tried deeply to evaluate.

It's the fact that author Stieg Larsson, in his younger years, witnessed the gang rape of a young woman named... wait for it... Lisbeth -- and he let it happen, not making any attempt to stop it.

This is a horrible thing -- unfortunate on many counts, but no. I'm not writing this post to talk about brutality toward women or to push some feminine agenda. I'm here to talk about writing and to add my two-cents to a popular topic of discussion.

I think about Stieg Larsson and his writing these Millenium trilogy stories -- and that he just watched as that horrible, unfortunate thing happened those many years ago -- and the nasty guilt he must've felt about it; how that girl, that Lisbeth, probably burned herself onto his conscience. I think about that girl named Lisbeth living somewhere in Larsson's subconsciousness, begging for help and retribution... and I think about how in the smallest of ways, through writing his stories, Larsson might've been able to "help" her and find a sense of peace within himself over the incident.

That's what writers are supposed to do, after all -- take things we care about and wear them on our chests. When we write about what we're uncomfortable with or ashamed of in our lives... most especially when we write to try to redeem ourselves for past mistakes we've committed -- that's what readers respond to. They feel something because WE feel something.

We feel crappy for Lisbeth because Stieg did too -- and that, for me, is the greatest storytelling lesson that DRAGON TATTOO bears.

I am inspired to NOT feel ashamed at putting my past mistakes, flaws and, yes, my embarrassments (like the fact that I've seen this particular film 4 times in the theater) out there for all to see -- like a big ol' tattoo on my back.

Because personal discomfort makes for the most engaging and emotionally resonant stories.

Thanks, Stieg Larsson, for that.

Ciao for now.

MY RIFLE, MY PONY, AND ME

RIO BRAVO -- this western flick made in 1959, has easily become one of my favorite movies.

And look at me. Do I look like the kind of person that really likes to watch John Wayne films? NO. However, there's something about this particular movie -- something that's highly endearing and captivating.

Maybe I like the idea of the solitary macho man -- the guy who wants to defend the town from ruffians and thugs all by himself. Perhaps it's the idea that the film expresses -- the idea that no matter how much a person might want to fight his battles alone, he has to open his eyes to see that people are willing to help him.

Maybe I just enjoy underdog stories -- stories of recovering alcoholics and debilitated old guys (guys who shouldn't necessarily be heroes) stepping up to do something good.

Anyway, that stuff's neither here nor there.

I think the real reason I like this movie so much comes down to about two minutes of screen time. Two minutes of celluloid that are decidedly "un-western".

There's this scene, about two-thirds of the way through the film, where the action stops and Dean Martin sings a duet with Rick Nelson -- a song about stopping and enjoying the simple things in life, a song about being a lonely cowboy.

For some reason, whenever I stumble upon this scene, I get tears in my eyes. And I think it's for the same reason that I get tears in my eyes during "Edelweiss" in THE SOUND OF MUSIC or when Belle and the Beast are dancing and the camera pans up to the ceiling painting of angels in BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

There's something in the way a perfectly placed song can make you stop and appreciate the gift of being alive... in life and in film. It's when everything quiets down and you can really get a good sense of the people that are around you.



I think I'm going to stop this entry here. I just felt like sharing this with you guys tonight while I'm sitting here alone in my apartment, my brain turned to mush from reading, writing and studying all day.

Ciao for now.

SAVE TONIGHT

Last year, around this time, I wrote a blog entry wherein I attacked certain middle-aged buffoons for saying that nobody would listen to my generation's music 25 years from now. It's not my favorite post on this blog, so I won't link back to it, but the reason I'm bringing it up right now is that I want to write about it again -- "it" being music.

If you're a generation Y-er or a "millennial" as I am, when I use the title "Save Tonight", your mind probably wanders back about 12 years to savor the sweet sounds of Eagle Eye Cherry. Or you might have no idea what I'm talking about. If the latter is the case, plug "Save Tonight" by Eagle Eye Cherry into the ol' iTunes for a refresher. As a matter of fact, you should just listen to some 90s music while reading this entry. I think it will help.

So, I want to play Cameron Crowe for a few moments and just wax a little bit about music, or more specifically, about catchy tunes (mainly from the 90s). I'll give a thousand dollars to the person who can present to me a more effective time machine than an old song. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know when I say that listening to music you grew-up with does more than simply excavate your memories, it literally re-instills your past feelings right into your present-day body. And there's not an experience or pastime that really rivals it.

All of us have that pocketful of songs in our arsenals that make us so nostalgic we want to cry. Ricky Martin's "Shake Your Bon-Bon" will forever remind me of my birthday party at the roller skating rink (I turned 12 and my friends requested the song in my honor). Every time I hear Juvenile's "Back that Azz Up" I think about this Bat Mitzvah I went to, where I shared a steamy dance with the guy I had a major crush on. So, we were 13. So, what? Then, I always get this lifted happy feeling when I stumble on Sugar Ray's "Every Morning." I think about driving through downtown Milwaukee in the back of my mom's blue Chrysler mini-van.

What's so wonderful about generationally definitive tunes is that they infiltrate our collective subconscious. In college, my friends and I were able to bop around to Mariah Carey or sing Third Eye Blind in the car. It didn't matter that we came from all different parts of the country. We could all share in the same blissful feeling. Why? Because we all had personal associations with the songs. No matter where we came from, we all heard the same music as children. Not to be cheesy, but nostalgic tunes really bring people together.

And I just love that so much.

I love it so much that I can spend hours in front of my computer just listening. I love it so much that I make a specific playlist for every year of my life.

When I was younger (at that formative age of 12) and my family decided to move from Wisconsin to Alabama, I clung to Britney Spears. The day our blue Chrysler mini-van slowly drove on down the street right after we had just parted ways with our closest Milwaukee friends, my mom sat in the front seat and wept like a baby. I sat in the back with my headphones and my walkman, blasting...

She's so lucky
She's a star
But she cry, cry, cries
In her lonely heart

You know the rest...

Anyway, I wasn't thinking about moving or the major transition that I was embarking upon in that moment. I was just alone with my music... and the fantasy of one-day growing-up to be like Britney. When my parents told me that I was shutting out the world, that I should take my headphones off and be social, I got unbelievably frustrated with them.



But now I kind of understand their point.

So, it's 11 years later and I'm once again on the cusp of a major move and transition. Though sadly, I won't be traveling in a blue Chrysler mini-van... It's time to grow-up and start a new chapter on the west coast.

And would you believe...

All I want to do is crawl into my cozy magic portal and fly back to 1999 by way of Lauryn Hill. I suppose that what I'm feeling now is somewhat similar to the feeling I felt when I moved as a kid. Perhaps, I'm looking back to that time period for guidance or something. All I know is that my supreme urge to go back in time supersedes my urge to do much else, including prepare for my future.

There are thousands of more productive things I could be doing than sitting here listening to the Backstreet Boys. (getting a job, maybe?)

But, alas...

Just like 11 years ago when I listened to Britney Spears to distract myself from the fact that I was leaving behind my friends and my youth, today I also distract myself... with more music and nostalgia.

I guess it's an age-old question. When can we (especially as millennials) stop living in the past and come to face our futures? It just seems to take (some of) us a little longer to mature.

Sure, the music is fun, but 1999 is over and it ain't coming back. Sadly.



Ciao. For now.