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It’s still pretty similar to the original version, but going through it and revising after hearing Chappell’s advice was very helpful. So if anyone has any other advice out there, feel free to throw it at me…..
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I secretly love being sick. Not so sick that I’ve contracted some horrible disease, doomed a vital organ, or even need to see a doctor. Just sick enough for it to be useful. I go around acting like I’m miserable, and when you tell people you’re sick they say how sorry they are for you, but in reality, I’m fine with the circumstances. A bad cold let’s you skip school, not have anyone bother you for hours, lie in bed all day, and watch a bunch of movies. If I’m lucky to be at home, my mom gets me strawberry ice cream. The best is when you have a fever, because then there’s proof that you’re sick; you don’t have to put as much effort making sure others believe you so that you can get out of doing things.
Being sick as a child had its own perks. When I was a young kid growing up in the nineties, my family had this small television set that played VHS tapes. Whenever my younger sister or I became sick, the small television would end up in one of our rooms so that we could watch movies while sprawled in our own bed. After its release in 1997, almost every time I happened to be the ill child, I would pick 20th Century Fox’s Anastasia. I was addicted to that movie as a young girl; it may have contributed to my obsessed-with-Russian-history phase later on in high school. I can recall being able to watch the film over and over again and never tiring of it. What with the Disney renaissance still going on during my childhood, kids always assumed that everything animated was a Disney product. Well, at least my naive younger self did. I can remember being absolutely shocked to discover that Anastasia was NOT a Disney movie, and there would be no rides or merchandise relating to it when we would eventually travel to Disney World. I had the same issue with The Iron Giant just a few years later; both experiences were slightly life-altering.
Back then I also remember the childish attachment I had with my stuffed animals, as I would gather them around me so we could watch the movie together. The entire film is only about 90 minutes long, but in that time span I loved every scene and every song. When the final moments of the story drew to a close and the last note of the movie’s score sounded, I always earnestly waited through the seconds it took for the credits to start.
“At the Beginning”, performed by Richard Marx and Donna Lewis, is the song that sounds over the finishing credits of Anastasia. As a sick kid curled up in my bed, surrounded by my favorite stuffed friends, I’d blissfully watch the film all the way through, only to get to this overly cheesy, gloriously romantic, awfully inspirational song that played at the end, content with just laying there and listening to it. I was only six when Anastasia came out, and at the time I didn’t have much interest in movie credits. There just isn’t much appeal to a bunch of scrolling words for a 6 year old. But if there was an enticing song playing, I could attend to them without quandary.
You can listen to it if you dare: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zspz-zqeNbg&feature=related
Listening to that song was not like anything I would experience musically in the few obsessed years I had after the movie’s release. The song was not exactly popular outside of its small place in the movie’s conclusion; it would never came on the radio for me to hear. In order to listen to it multiple times after reaching the end of Anastasia, I would hit the minuscule rewind button on the television itself. The process was always annoying because you had to physically hold down the button the entire time to make it rewind; once you let go it would stop rewinding and start playing normally again. Also, you were able to still see the movie on the tiny screen while rewinding, so you got to watch it playing in reverse with no sound. That was convenient for knowing when to stop holding down the button, but added to the tediousness of it all. Yet none of this stopped me from repeating the song three to five times after each watching.
Throughout the years, being sick has lost some of its initial pleasures. Professors still expect me to get all my work done on time, all the ice cream in our house is in the form of fat-free bars, and most of our VHS tapes are buried somewhere in the basement, along with the small television. As time progressed, I would learn more and more about technology, especially in adapting to the major advances made past the year 2000. Still, I’ve never been very good with keeping up with anything; most of my discoveries are usually behind the times. Pushing past VHS tapes and cassettes, I became connected to my walkman and set of CDs for quite some time. I remember buying my first iPod freshmen year of high school, which would have been sometime around the year 2005. Starting to deal with music within iTunes was a nice shift for me. Ever since then, I’ve been collecting as much music as I can. The day I discovered torrenting was a nice day. But after years of evolutions and distractions, I had forgotten about certain childhood soundtracks that I had once loved, such as Anastasia.
One day in my sophomore year of high school, a friend gave me a CD that she had burned with an assortment of random songs. I enjoy listening to music while doing homework, so I threw the CD into the player I had in my bedroom at the time before getting to work. I let the first few songs run their course, focusing on math, when I suddenly stopped as a particular melody began. It was “At the Beginning” from Anastasia. I remember sitting in my room, frozen, as I was mentally thrust back into moments from my childhood, nearly a decade earlier. They say small is the sense most associated with memory. While that may be true, I have pretty strong memory triggers with sounds. I can recall just sitting there, doing nothing but listening to the song, overcome with a powerful sense of nostalgia. Years and years had passed, and I had forgotten about it, and how happy the song used to make me feel as a young girl, lying in bed with the flu.
The whole experience itself—of rediscovering a favorite childhood song—happened almost five years ago now. I think the element of time and juxtaposition between the points in my life are what made the finding of the song have meaning. It’s not like the song revolutionized my music experience, or made me come to some deep revelation with its lyrics; in reality, it would probably not be considered a very reputable song by most people. It’s more so about the fact that some group of individuals was able to create this particular song, place it over the credits of a movie, and end up affecting me for over a decade. It was significant to be able to reconnect with feelings that I had once had as a child, simple joys from a silly mushy pop tune at the end of a childhood favorite movie. At the same time, I could also then along with some more recent frustration that life cannot always be so easily carefree.
When the song ended, I immediately stopped the CD from playing, took it to our family computer downstairs, and loaded it onto my iTunes. Knowing it was on my hard drive, there for as long as I wanted, elated me. Something about finally having it myself, able to listen to it at any time I cared to, and to not have to do anything to make it repeat itself again and again, made me extremely excited. As a clueless little kid, I’d never imagined having the song for myself, and it was as if I fulfilled a small childhood dream in some bizarre way. I had wished and wished as a child to have the song at my expense whenever I pleased, and I had unexpectedly achieved that a decade later. My taste in music has changed drastically from my six-year-old self’s, but I was still able to be positively affected by my discovery.
Artists are able to affect their audiences over extremely long periods of time, and their art is what becomes integrated into people’s lives. I believe that is what can make music so influential: the method of how it’s produced and then shared. A song can be like a gift to its audience. Songs are carried with us, so that they start to feel like our own bits of musical property. Even the way we most commonly listen to our own music supports this concept: headphones. Listening can be a very private experience, something that is only occurring in our own ears. It can even be a comfort, whether you’re sick in bed, upset, or just looking to relate your thoughts and feelings to something outside of your own head. Reaching a level of individual, personal attachment, as well as making a connection—especially over a long period of time—is what makes music, design, and art in general, an important part of people’s lives.
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When I was a young kid growing up in the nineties, my family had this small television set that played VHS tapes. Whenever my younger sister or I became sick, the small television would end up in one of our rooms so that we could watch movies while sprawled in our own bed. Almost every time that I happened to be the ill child - thus making it my turn to watch a movie in my room - I would pick 20th Century Fox’s Anastasia, which came out in the year 1997. I was legitimately addicted to that movie as a young girl. I recall being able to watch the film over and over again and never tiring of it. What with the Disney renaissance still going on during my childhood, kids always assumed that everything animated was naturally a Disney product. Well, at least my naive younger self did. I can remember being absolutely shocked when I discovered that Anastasia was NOT in fact a Disney princess, and there would be no rides or merchandise relating to her when we would eventually travel to Disney World.
Back then I also remember the childish attachment I had with my stuffed animals, as I would gather them around me so we could watch the movie together. The entire film is only about 90 minutes long, but in that time span I loved every scene and every song. When the final moments of the story drew to a close and the last note of the movie score sounded, I always earnestly waited during the seconds it took for the credits to start. Why was I so enticed by the coming of this structured recognition?
It was for the song that was played during it.
“At the Beginning”, performed by Richard Marx and Donna Lewis, is the song that sounds over the finishing credits of Anastasia. As a sick kid curled up in my bed, surrounded by my favorite stuffed friends, I’d blissfully watch the film all the way through, only to get to this cheesy, glorious love song that played at the end, content with just laying there and listening to it. Anastasia came out when I was six, and at the time I didn’t have much interest in movie credits. There just isn’t much appeal to a bunch of scrolling words for a 6 year old. Yet I could listen through that final song without quandary, having nothing to look at, mesmerized by its overly inspirational tune and gushy romantic lyrics, Richard and Donna’s voices intertwining beautifully with one another. Suddenly, being sick wouldn’t be all that bad.
Listening to that song was not like anything I would experience musically in the few obsessed years I had after the movie’s release. The song was not exactly popular outside of its small place in the movie’s conclusion, so it’s not as if it ever came on the radio for me to hear. In order to listen to it multiple times after reaching the end of Anastasia, I would hit the minuscule rewind button on the television itself. The process was always annoying because you had to physically hold down the button the entire time to make it rewind, since once you let go it would stop rewinding and start playing normally again. Also, you were able to still see the movie on the tiny screen while rewinding, so you got to watch it all playing in reverse with no sound. That was convenient for knowing when to stop holding down the button, but added to the tediousness of it all. Yet none of this stopped me from repeating the song three to five times after each watching.
Throughout the years, I would learn more and more about technology as I got older, especially in adapting to the major advances made past the year 2000. Still, I’ve never been very good with keeping up with technology; most of my discoveries are usually behind the times. Pushing past VHS tapes and cassettes, I became connected to my walkman and set of CDs for quite some time. I remember getting my first iPod freshmen year of high school, which would have been sometime around the year 2005. Starting to deal with music within iTunes was a nice shift for me. Ever since then, I’ve been collecting as much music as I can. It helped to eventually discover torrenting. But after years of evolutions and distractions, I had forgotten about certain childhood soundtracks that I had once loved, such as Anastasia.
One day in my sophomore year of high school, a friend gave me a CD that she had burned with an assortment of random songs. I enjoy listening to music while doing homework, so I threw the CD into the player I had in my bedroom at the time before getting to work. I let the first few songs run their course, focusing on math problems, when I suddenly stopped as a particular melody began. It was “At the Beginning” from Anastasia. I remember sitting in my room, frozen, as I was mentally thrust back into moments from my childhood, nearly a decade earlier. I can recall just sitting there, doing nothing but listening to the song, and shedding a tear or two. I wasn’t necessarily happy or sad, but more so overcome with a powerful sense of nostalgia. Years and years had passed, and I had forgotten about this special little song, and how happy it used to make me feel as a young girl, lying in bed with the flu.
When the song ended, I immediately stopped the CD from playing, took it to our family computer downstairs, and loaded it onto my iTunes. Knowing it was on my hard drive, there for as long as I wanted, elated me. Something about finally having it myself, able to listen to it at any time I cared to, and to not have to do anything to make it repeat itself again and again, made me overjoyed. I had wished and wished as a child to have the song at my expense whenever I pleased, and I had unexpectedly achieved that, just ten years later.
The whole experience itself of me rediscovering a favorite childhood song happened almost five years ago. I think the element of time is what made the finding of the song have meaning to me. It’s not like the song revolutionized my music experience, or made me come to some deep revelation with its lyrics. In reality, it would probably not be considered a very reputable song by most people. It’s more so about the fact that a collaborative group of individuals was able to create this particular song, place it over the credits of a favored childhood movie, and end up affecting me for over a decade; that’s what I took most from the incident. It was significant to be able to reconnect with feelings that I had once had as a child, simple joys from a silly pop tune set along with some credits, along with some more recent frustration that life cannot always be so easily carefree.
This goes to show how artists are able to affect their audiences over extremely long periods of time, and that their art becomes integrated into people’s lives. I believe that is what can make music so influential: the method of how it’s produced and then shared. A song can be like a present to its audience, in a way; more so than pieces of art that are just meant to be looked at. Songs are carried with us, so that they start to feel like our own bits of musical property. Reaching a level of individual, personal attachment is what makes music, design, and art in general, an important part of people’s lives. I can smile even now as I sit here listening to “At the Beginning” playing through my laptop speakers.
