I'm not exactly old by any standards that matter, but it is clear to me that I already live in the throes of nostalgia. I would even hazard to say most people my age are starting to become focused on the past in many different modes of their lives. I have friends that feel the golden age of music was in their high school years. We are interested in the shows and movies of our youth, which is probably why the media is 'ransacking' our youth and handing it back to us (i.e. Transformers, GI Joe, the obsession with retro-futurism). Scholars attribute this to a post-9/11 feeling of trying to get back to the "good ol' days". Chances are though, this happens with every generation. The main difference is that we can readily access our past due the recent obsession and ability to record our lives in a depth that has never existed before.
The problem in being able to peer so easily into our past is that we can start to see the cracks in our rose-tinted sunglasses. This is where I got into trouble, when I couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie. Granted, I often get some good results by drudging up the past, but it wasn't true in this particular case. I re-watched The Thirteenth Floor about a week ago. Although, it's probably more apt to say I attempted to re-watch the movie. I failed to continue it after eating a meal and sighing a huge, "meh," when I sat myself in front of the TV. I decided my time was more worth its use somewhere else.
I had very fond, if murky, memories of the movie. I remember it being an absolute blast when I watched it, which happens to be same year that Matrix came out. I even recall asking myself why no one was talking about it, when it was in its own way as original as Matrix. Now I know why. Because it's garbage. It makes me want to go back in time and slap past-me for misleading present-me so badly. Couldn't I tell that the pacing was wonky? Couldn't I tell that the characters were horribly written? Couldn't I tell that I had seen better love stories in Saturday morning cartoons? Couldn't I tell that the acting was as wooden as a medieval Viking ship? I guess not. Apparently, I've traded youthful gung-ho-edness in movies for better taste. To tell you the truth, I think present-me has gotten the short end of the stick. But that's just the way life works, and being somewhat of a realist, I know I can't unsee 13 years of film to like something awful.
Be careful what you look back at. Sometimes the fuzzy memories are much more beautiful on their own. Not every itch needs to be scratched. Stupidly, I know I will continue to break this rule. In fact, I already did, again, 2 days ago by watching a nicktoon from yore. So far it hasn't let me down, but I know now it won't present anything new to me. That's possibly the true danger of revisiting our childhood past, though. A stagnation with of our views and culture. I have never heard anyone say, "it was better than I had thought as a childe!" It's always, "it holds up" or "it's as good as you remember it." Take a mini-vacation to the past, but please don't reside there. It's more seductive than you think, but it's not going to expand your horizons by even a centimeter.
- piecar
The problem in being able to peer so easily into our past is that we can start to see the cracks in our rose-tinted sunglasses. This is where I got into trouble, when I couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie. Granted, I often get some good results by drudging up the past, but it wasn't true in this particular case. I re-watched The Thirteenth Floor about a week ago. Although, it's probably more apt to say I attempted to re-watch the movie. I failed to continue it after eating a meal and sighing a huge, "meh," when I sat myself in front of the TV. I decided my time was more worth its use somewhere else.
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| Walking towards an empty landscape is quite an apt allegory |
I had very fond, if murky, memories of the movie. I remember it being an absolute blast when I watched it, which happens to be same year that Matrix came out. I even recall asking myself why no one was talking about it, when it was in its own way as original as Matrix. Now I know why. Because it's garbage. It makes me want to go back in time and slap past-me for misleading present-me so badly. Couldn't I tell that the pacing was wonky? Couldn't I tell that the characters were horribly written? Couldn't I tell that I had seen better love stories in Saturday morning cartoons? Couldn't I tell that the acting was as wooden as a medieval Viking ship? I guess not. Apparently, I've traded youthful gung-ho-edness in movies for better taste. To tell you the truth, I think present-me has gotten the short end of the stick. But that's just the way life works, and being somewhat of a realist, I know I can't unsee 13 years of film to like something awful.
Be careful what you look back at. Sometimes the fuzzy memories are much more beautiful on their own. Not every itch needs to be scratched. Stupidly, I know I will continue to break this rule. In fact, I already did, again, 2 days ago by watching a nicktoon from yore. So far it hasn't let me down, but I know now it won't present anything new to me. That's possibly the true danger of revisiting our childhood past, though. A stagnation with of our views and culture. I have never heard anyone say, "it was better than I had thought as a childe!" It's always, "it holds up" or "it's as good as you remember it." Take a mini-vacation to the past, but please don't reside there. It's more seductive than you think, but it's not going to expand your horizons by even a centimeter.
- piecar
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