Memory Lane Marathon

So I promise, this is more than just a shameless self-promo for the other blog I'm in charge of, a blog for my uni's student-run newsblog, The Accolade.

Which you probably remember me talking about before.

Anyway, on &etc we've had a series of blog posts on Batman movies of past decades, from the 80's to Christopher Nolan's trilogy.

The latest is Batman & Robin, that great 1997 classic with George Clooney, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Uma Thurman, Alicia Silverstone... Please tell me this is ringing bells.

Poison Ivy? Mr. Freeze? Inflatable Bane? BATGIRL?

Ok. If you haven't seen it, that's fine I guess. It was just a major part of my childhood that I can't share with you, now, but whatever.

Actually, there was a point other than shameless self-promotion for &etc.

It's been too long since I've blogged, but after reading the Batman & Robin film critique (and consequently commenting on it, which you should too) I got to thinking about all of those things—films, TV shows, books, and music— that I experienced as a kid that made me who I am today. And I wanted to share some of them with you, because I'm sure you miss my sultry voice by now and because it's 2am and I'm the only one awake in my house.

But if you've never seen Batman & Robin... I'm sorry. You need to turn away. I don't feel comfortable expressing my childhood memories with a heathen.

Go. Just leave.

...Okay okay wait, come back. You can stay. But if we have nothing in common from this list, you should seriously consider how and why we are still friends/why you are here.

To everyone that is still here, let's take a trip down memory lane.

If you're a boy, I understand. You probably haven't seen this movie. You probably didn't have a crush on Dickon. You probably didn't think the little baby animal parade was adorable (and it probably wasn't one of the reasons you loved Dickon so). But I did. And I challenge every girl, here and now, to look into her heart and tell me that this movie did not secretly begin a love for England in their little girl hearts. Mine grew into a full-blown, full-hearted, robust love, and I'm not going to hate you if yours didn't. But this movie was magical, as was the slightly lesser 'A Little Princess'

and I just now realized that they were both books written by the same woman. Go figure. No wonder they were packaged  together. Anyway, these movies were made for tender little nuggets like me, who was just looking for a charming Dickon to teach me about nature and a crazy Indian neighbor who sneaks into my attic room and freaking sets a beautiful feast and rich clothes and wonder and perfect and oh my goodness

for me in the middle of the night, as I sleep. But it's okay, because he's taking care of my dashing English soldier father for me until I can get free of my servitude and sneak into his house.

All I'm saying is: old-fashioned, little girl magic.
Also, these books:

But now, onto modern things that boys can relate to, too.

POWER RANGERSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

This was quality television, but an even more quality film. You remember this. Ooze! Teamwork! 

The sickest skydiving opening scene to The Red Hot Chili Peppers known to man.

And of course, the white ranger is showing off his sweet air-boarding skills, because, let's be honest, he had to assert his coolness at all times. Otherwise, how would he win over Kimberly, the Pink Ranger, with just a head of luscious hair and a sweet earring in his left ear? (He wouldn't.)

But just look at him now.

I know, I know. Power Rangers went fifty shades of wack after the ninties. Last time I checked they were something about dinosaurs, but then again the last time I checked was about 10 years ago.

Speaking of dinosaurs, that brings me to...

JURASSSSSSSSIIIIICCCC PARRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.

This is more my brother's fault than my own. Starting at age three, the same age my brother started jumping off of everything yelling "BATMAN" in his raspy voice, he found a love for dinosaurs. Pretty average for a little boy. We used to play the Animal Game, where someone acts like an animal and everyone else has to guess what animal they are, and when my brother wasn't jumping off the coffee table shouting "BATMAN", he was stomping around in a circle, roaring. T-Rex.

It started with

but quickly evolved into something more sinister, something that probably scared the crap out of him but exhilarated him at the same time. Real-life dinosaurs, man. Real life. T-Rex eating people on the toilet. Velociraptors in the long grass. It's wonderful.

I don't remember how long his Jurassic Park phase lasted, but he watched that movie, at the very least, 50 times a month. It was between Jurassic Park, Batman & Robin, and The Lost World: Jurassic Park. No deviation. Maybe Land Before Time between dino gore sessions. He had dinosaur pajamas. Dinosaur toys. Dinosaur dreams. Dinosaur breath. He had it all.

And so I watched it with him. I remember when the third Jurassic Park came out, he HAD to see it in theaters. He had to. And we were out of town, so I had to go with him and my dad (I don't know how my Ma got out of it) to go see it.

I spent the entire movie curled fetal-position in the seat, eyes screwed shut and hands over my ears. I still have nightmares about that Spinosaurus.

...

FRESH PRINCE.

I'm being really serious when I say that if you have never seen this show, leave now. I'm not joking this time. I won't call you back. I won't forgive you. 

I watched this show every day. I've watched every single episode from every single season at least twice. When you ask me about things I think define my childhood, Fresh Prince is on the list. Probably up near the top, too. Without Fresh Prince, I become a lesser person. I would not be who I am today without The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

I am 100% serious. Look at my face.

Okay?

...Let's move on.

For me, my long relationship with Harry Potter began with a marvelous little paperback version of the Sorcerer's Stone. I waited and waited for my Hogwarts acceptance letter right before my eleventh birthday. I played Harry Potter in the backyard, complete with my copies of 'Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them' and 'Quidditch Through The Ages'. I dated Oliver Wood. Then I dated Draco Malfoy's twin and fought the twin Harry Potters, who had this nasty habit of kidnapping my friend and I, forcing the Malfoy twins to come and heroically try to save us. Sometimes, we had to go save them.

You don't remember all of these twins, you say? Well, you didn't read closely enough.

I went to midnight premieres. I wrote fan fiction (don't ask). I made myself cry when Dumbledore died. I saw all but one of the movies in theaters. I waited in a Borders until midnight to get the sixth book. I listened to Harry Potter podcasts that my friends ran. I lived on Mugglenet.com. I laughed at A Very Potter Musical. I woke up at 6am to get into Pottermore early. I listened to wizard rock. I've already talked about Harry Potter's fade into history, which is good and natural, but I will never forget that magical feeling I had while reading the books, and the magic that was my entire grade school all focused on Harry Potter, just for a little while.

Even today, I still find ways to relate Harry Potter to my life.

I could talk about books that have shaped my life for days and days. If I tried to think of more they would just keep coming and keep coming and I wouldn't be able to stop myself from dissecting all of them, so I'm going to step away from books and talk about music, which so far I've neglected.

Les Miserables.

It's funny how little I cared for it as a kid. My dad's repertoire was full of Pink Floyd, The Smashing Pumpkins, Depeche Mode, and Les Miserables, and I disliked all of it simply because it was my dad's music. As I got older and started getting interested in music beyond the scope of Radio Disney and what they played on the school bus, I took out all of the CDs in our house and stuck them in a CD player and played them. Les Mis, 10th Anniversary, International Cast was part of it. It was scratched and some of the songs skipped, but I didn't care. I was angsty. I related to Eponine. I hated Cosette because she got the boy. At that point I had never seen a performance of it past something that ran on the telly one night, but the music spoke to me.

I'm not one for musicals. I'll be honest. I don't like musicals, with few exceptions. Les Mis is one of them.

From the Les Mis music, I went to the book and it became my favorite book. It still holds a high position on my charts. Alongside Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo became the fount of all knowledge. I even slogged through the five chapters on Waterloo, although they had nothing to do with the immediate action, because I respected Hugo and his writing. My cover has been long torn off, front and back, and the pages are dogeared and marked, but I still proudly put it on my shelf for display. Les Mis, music and book, was a part of my life before I even realized it was.

So you can bet that when the new movie comes out this December, I will be there opening night, in my Cosette shirt, ready to tear apart Anne Hathaway for any/all mistakes and ending up a sobbing mess at the end. It does that to me. It's where my appreciation for France bloomed, just like the Secret Garden was my blooming place for England love.

Coldplay.

And here's where you go "...Wait, seriously? Coldplay? Dain, I thought you were hipster. Coldplay is so mainstream. Oh, you're being ironic. You must be using irony, right? Dain please say you're joking."

First off, I'm not hipster.

Second, no I'm not joking. This is true. And unexpected. And yet, I think this was the first CD that I ever bought for myself. 'X&Y', specifically, still one of my favorite albums up to this point. I listened to it constantly.

Yes. I have their discography. Including their first album, Brothers & Sisters. Which came before Shiver. Which nobody cares about besides me and other Coldplay fans.

Yes. I cried to 'Fix You' more times than I can count. Yes, I still like Coldplay, and not ironically or for nostalgia's sake. I think they're a great band. Mature in a world that is increasingly not. Simple. Good.

Yes, if I were older and had met Chris Martin before he married Gwyn, I probably would have at least dated him. He's darling.

All right, I'm done.

And here's a shout-out to my numbers 3-10:

Michael Jackson, The National, George Winston, Indigo Girls, Radiohead, The Cranberries, Louis Armstrong,

I'm just going to stop there. 9 is my lucky number, and after Louis I can't decide on just one band/singer for #10.

Maybe the Once soundtrack, maybe The Police or U2. Maybe Enya. I don't know.

ANYWAY

I hope this marathon down memory lane hasn't killed you. I won't be mad if you peaced out half an hour ago. It was more for my benefit than yours.

But, you know, if you're dying to share some thoughts about your own trip down memory lane, feel free to comment or email me or Facebook me or Twitter me or whatever you want. I want to hear it. Really. We can bond over it and then eat Doritos tacos (which I just had for the first time and which are, actually, good) and be friends.