Surrounded at Starbucks

     This afternoon I walked into a Starbucks. I needed to get some work done - "work" according to my definition though the general population may disagree. Some examples of the "work" I needed to get done included posting a parking pass for sale on both the Columbus and Phoneix Craigslist sites, transferring some funds on my Amazon accounts, opening a Prime membership (30-day free trial, then I subsequently set an alarm to cancel it a little less than a month from now), and replying to texts/emails. Busy guy.
      But I actually also have two classes that I'm taking online at Wharton as part of a Business Foundations Specialization. That's the real work that I actually avoid doing, just like I did in undergrad! Do all the extracurricular work first before the academic...
     Anyway, I decided to check out a Starbucks different from the one I usually frequent. This is on the larger end with lots of open space and just has a different vibe from the smaller store I'm used to. If I could go to another coffeehouse I would. The main reason I continually go to this chain is because I've got a shit-load of gift cards that I need to use (and of course have to earn those stars to get me some free drinks!). Really looking to save money right now since I want to eventually take a Caribbean cruise this spring.
     I digress. I walk in, set my stuff down at the end of a long table, set my laptop charger on the floor outlet to make claim to it and head over to the counter. I didn't really need any caffeine (been trying to stay off it), but I wanted a little boost, so I just got a shot of espresso with some coconut milk - yumm.

     When I got back to the table, three Chinese students had seated themselves around where I was going to sit. Instead of grabbing my belongings in a huff and looking for somewhere else to sit (there really wasn't anywhere else to go at that point), I said to myself "You know what, fuck it. Just stay."

     So I did. 

     Now I'm sitting with three new friends. Well, we haven't spoken. I doubt we will. But it at least looks like we all came together. Maybe...  

   

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

     This morning, I awoke with the Force. Well I actually woke because of a force. The door slamming in the other room because my younger brother was rushing to get out of the house. It was 10:30, so I figured Id' probably need to get out of bed anyway. I'm not one to stay in bed long once I've opened my eyes.
     Walking out to the kitchen, I see my older brother appear from the basement in a similar rush.
     "YOU BOYS GETTING READY FOR THE MOVIE?" Our mom yells from her seat at the computer from a different room.
     "Yeah..." My younger brother says begrudgingly. From 23 years on this earth and just about 19 in my parents' house with my brothers, you learn to not speak to each other until you've actually woken up. Just because my eyes are open, I'm breathing and managed to make a bowl of cereal for myself do not mean that I'm awake and ready for the morning interrogation.
     "What time's the movie?" I ask.
     "11." Replies my younger brother.
     Do I go? Do I not go? It's gonna be a matinee, so it'll be less expensive and you've got a gift card, even though you want to use that gift card later as part of the Christmas gift you gave to your younger brother... Go. It's with both of your brothers and it's not like you get to have this experience that often.
     I go with them. And somehow also get roped into driving too. Not sure how that happened. But if I was driving, then the errands to be performed after the movie could revolve around my (the driver's) needs!
   

      Star Wars: The Force Awakens was a really enjoyable movie. For a movie clocking in a 2hrs and 15min, it sure didn't seem that long. Before we knew it, the iris wipe transitioned us into the credits. The film's content flowed smoothly with the conclusion of the third film of Lucas's original installment.
      The film entertained fodder for prequels and sequels galore. Adam Driver, as Kylo Ren plays the son of Han and Leia whom we learn was trained by uncle Luke in the ways of the Force, but somehow turned to the Dark Side. Han and Leia are no longer together and as it seems haven't been for a while. How does Rey have any training with the Force? Who is Rey? What's her background?
      While the movie was extremely entertaining (just enough seriousness and humor - the latter primarily driven by newcomer Finn played by John Boyega), but raised so many questions. For a film who's intent was to reboot the franchise and make some money for Disney, JJ and his team sure did a fantastic job!
      On a side note I'd like to point out how certain publications (*cough Entertainment Weekly cough*) interviewed Gwendoline Christie, referring to her as Star Wars' "first female villain." Though, when watching the movie she was rarely present and didn't put up much of a fight when confronted by our protagonists.
     How about Lupita Nyong'o! I knew she was in the movie, but failed to do any research into seeing which character she played. I also knew she was CGI, but her voice adjustments were amazing for Maz Kanata. Wow!
     Andy Serkis can do no wrong. Still confused on who the hell Supreme Leader Snoke is and where the hell he came from. Prequel/sequel time Disney. You've got me all anticipatory!

     Apologies for the extended review on the movie. Needless to say I loved it and can't wait for what's next! Except this time I'll make sure to see it on opening weekend so I get to see it in the big theater, not the little side ones.

A

My Top 10 Christmas Songs

    Christmastime is here! Been here for a while now and seemingly comes along earlier and earlier each year. Thought I'd compile a list of Connor's Top 10: Christmas Songs. We've got a mix here of oldies, religious and secular tunes.

     #10 Oh Santa! by Mariah Carey
     A 2010 attempt by the Mimi to add another Christmas hit to her repertoire. Though not as big a smash as her "All I Want for Christmas Is You," "Oh Santa!" combines a gospel choir with a Sister Act-clap vibe and Mariah's classic breathy high notes. It doesn't get as much radio play as I think it should, though I'm not sure I've heard it since she released it back in 2010...

     #9 Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy by Bing Crosby and David Bowie
     This classic combines the vocal talents of Bing Crosby and David Bowie. You've gotta watch this music video accompaniment to the duet.

     #8 Do They Know It's Christmas by BandAid
    Originally penned as a relief song for the Ethiopian famine, this song (and I'm talking about the original, not the 30th anniversary version) became an instant classic that inspired predecessor compilations including the world-famous song "We Are the World." This combo of UK and Irish singers is gold and I can't help but get goosebumps every time I listen.
    *The 30th anniversary song is great, but incomparable to the original

     #7 Believe by Josh Groban
     Written for the 2004 film The Polar Express, this song went on to be nominated for both Oscar and a Grammy, the latter of which the songwriters took home. The combination of Josh's voice with an angelic children's choir makes for a classic Christmas tune in my book. It is also an appropriate companion to one of the best Christmas books of all time.

     #6 Christmas Canon by TSO
     The often overshadowed sister song to the Trans Siberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells, this song is a modern twist on Pachelbel's "Canon in D." Add in some angelic children's choir (seeing some sort of pattern?) and you've got yourself a hit!

     #5 Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande
     Yes. Spirit Hood party? Yes. All I have to say.

     #4 The Entire Charlie Brown Christmas Album
     The Vince Guaraldi Trio might not have known it then, but when he made this album, he created the perfect Christmas soundtrack.

     #3 Oh Holy Night by Celine Dion
     Celine has a great Christmas album, but to me this is the obvious standout (with Silent Night in a close second). Her vocals are untouchable and have that uniquely Celine sound, adding in some hard arr's every now and then. Best part occurs towards the end where she really belts it out and sends my spine tingling.


     #2 Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano
     For anyone who ever watched Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, you will always remember this song. A lonely Big Bird stands in the corner of the rink trying to skate when a young girl comes and helps him up after he falls and shows that bird how it's done. This scene immortalized that song for me.

     #1 All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
     Hands down best Christmas song ever written. Originally written for her then-husband Tommy Mottola, the song has gone on to be the most-spun Christmas song ever (I made that up, but it could be true!). In an attempt to bring herself back into the spotlight, Carey remixed the song with Biebs. Strange to be singing this song directed to a lover when your duet partner is less than half your age...
Stick to the original.
      If you ever find yourself in South Bend on a Saturday night, check out The Backer and you can guarantee it will be playing no matter what season it is.

     Honorable Mention: Christmas Tree by Lady Gaga
     First heard this one while I was greeting shoppers at Abercrombie & Fitch. If you haven't heard it before, man are you in for a treat... **Not for young ears!

What's on your list?

Ariana's Latest EP - Christmas & Chill

     "Let's Netflix and chill."
     "Nah, let's Christmas and chill."
     I'd prefer the former. Ariana's less than 15 minute recent EP lacks originality and depth. Christmas and Chill is an appropriate title, seeing as "Netflix and chill" is a come-on for sex and this compilation is all about that - with a holiday theme of course. The majority of the album contains innuendo laid on top of deep hip hop cuts (the latter of which are enjoyable in a chill house-party kind of way).
     Sample lyric: You'll be my drummer boy/ and I'm the only drum that you gonna play. Meh. Why bring in the religious song reference?
     Her signature breathy vocals and lack of enunciation make it difficult to understand what the hell she's talking about. But don't worry, it's usually some euphemism for sex. Thanks to the hip-hop vibe of the EP, she sounds more like Ciara than the Ariana we heard on My Everything.
     "Winter Things," the final track is acoustic and less beat-heavy. She also enunciates more, so thank you for that, Ari! If I were to ever listen to any of these songs again, it'd be a long shot, but it would be "Winter Things." However, in comparison to last year's "Santa Tell Me" none of these tracks compare.

Stuck Skittles

     John needed Skittles. Bus call had already passed a few minutes earlier at 12:30am, but his sweet tooth needed to be satisfied. I also needed to return all 6 rooms keys we had to our hotel room... Yes, 6 keys.
     A little bit of background, a lot of drama had taken place around missing or pushing back our bus call times. They became more of a curfew than actual bus calls to ensure the entire cast and crew made it back before the buses left for our next venue. Our bus wasn't actually leaving until 2am, but to compensate for others' previous mistakes, everyone was held accountable and was required to be early.
     John needed Skittles. After dropping something off in the crew bus I made it a point to tell Margaret, our director/matriarch that I still needed to return the men's room keys.
     "Oh of course, Connor!" She said, probably noticing the halo glowing around my head.
     Seeing me exit, John followed. "I'm want to talk with Connor" He said, "I'm going with Connor." I'm sure it was directed towards our matriarch, but the delivery was vague as he pretty much said it to the ground.
     "I really want candy, but I need to get change."
     He's a quirky guy, but in that strangely loving way where you appreciate having him around.
     "Okay."
     We had to walk around front to the main entrance, where I dropped off all the keys and he broke his five dollar bill. Why we had so many keys I couldn't answer, but I'm pretty sure only one of them actually worked on our door.
     Taking the elevator to the second floor, we exited to our left where the vending machine greeted us in its all-but-defunct state. No lights were on, but we assumed it worked.
     Fourth column, sixth row down. "Skittles!" He said excitedly as he tried to slide his single into the machine. It wouldn't take it.
     "There's another machine on the third floor." I told him.
     "But what if they don't have skittles?" He asked me.
     "Well, there's a fourth floor so if the third floor doesn't have it then we can go up again!"
     Third floor, no luck. Fourth floor, still no Skittles. Rude.
     Distraught, I told him "You know, Angel broke your five, I'm sure she's got four quarters too."
     Back downstairs to the lobby.
     "Hey Angel, we're back!" I said probably a little too energetically for almost 1 a.m. "Here's the thing, John really wants Skittles and only the second floor machine has Skittles, but it won't take dollar bills. Can we get four quarters?"
     "Yeah," she replied. "Just gimme a sec."
     After the exchange, we took the elevator back up to the second floor. As John put the change in and pressed 4-6, I clumsily laughed "I really hope it doesn't get stuck as the thing is turning it out!"
     ...
     The Skittles got stuck.
     "NO!" We yelled as our stomachs began to hurt from the intensity of our laughing. I jinxed it. Of course I just had to go and say something stupid. The vending machine gods were against us.
     "It's fine." I told him. "We'll go back down stairs, see Angel again, I'm sure she'll be happy to break another one of your dollars. I mean, we're her entertainment for the night, she has to enjoy this story!"
     We took the elevator back down to Angel to whom we recounted the whole story as she broke another of John's dollars. She thought it was humorous and said "If it happens again, let me know."
     One more trek up the elevator, which had now become our personal escort since no one else was using it at one in the morning, and back to the jinxed machine we went.
     In went his four quarters and out came both packs, the stuck one and it's partner.
     Needless to say, John was happy and we had a great story to tell.

A Case of Forgetfulness

      People are intrinsically kind. Every once in a while, I experience a reaffirmation of my faith in humanity. We actually do care for each other, even complete strangers.
     Due to the lack of sleep I'd incurred over the previous few days, my mind had wondered a little more than usual. I was being flown out to LA to begin my next tour with a show called An Irish Christmas. There was a lot on my mind as I hadn't been employed for the two previous months and even though my next month and a half was planned, the time afterward was (and still is!) completely up in the air.
     Southwest is the only airline with which I've ever experienced a layover where the plane has passengers continuing to the next destination with the crew and thus they stay on the plane during the unloading process. This was the first time I had ever been one of those passengers. In St. Louis about twenty other passengers and myself traveling from Columbus to Los Angeles remained onboard. Once the CMH-STL passengers left, I grabbed my belongings and moved forward in attempt to find a more desirable seat.
      Having previously been in a window seat, I wanted to sit in the window again even though they do have slightly less room due to the curved wall of the plane. The front left window was open, but the front row lacks trays, which is a must for me when I make sure to get as much free food as I can. I have a tendency to put on my best smile and raise my voice slightly in hopes of obtaining another bag of pretzels, peanuts or if I'm lucky a sack of those 100 calorie Nabisco cookies.
     Nature was calling so I hurriedly set my stuff down in a window seat in the third row, but then realized I should switch things up and get a view from the other side of the plane. My bladder couldn't wait, so I grabbed what I had and threw it in the window seat on the other side - these minuscule decisions were going to affect my next three hours! I had to choose a great seat!
     A short line greeted me at the bathroom in the rear of the plane, where those in the queue waited by standing on the seats near the back. The restroom patron exited and I was second in line, when this Asian man walked right down the aisle and said to the man in front of me "Bathroom?"
     "Yeah." He replied indifferently as he made a move to get into the aisle. However, he wasn't fast enough as said Asian man grabbed the door and walked right in...
     When I got back to my new seat from the restroom, I started searching for my phone first thinking I had placed it in my jacket pocket where it had been the entire previous flight. It wasn't. It wasn't in any of the coat pockets. None of my pants' pockets. Maybe it was in my book bag, which was back overhead after I took out my headphones to use this flight. Nope.
     Rummaging through all my stuff, people began to notice there was some anxiety in what I was doing. I went to recheck my bag, which was overhead. To do so, I had to cross paths with this woman standing in the aisle and making small talk with her new acquaintance. Jokingly she said, "Now that's it! That's the last time you'll get to walk up here." Even though she was smiling the whole time she said this, there was a slight tone of annoyance in her voice.
     "It'll be the last time when I find my phone." Maybe that was a little harsh of a reply on my part. However, it sure got her attention.
     "Oh! Where did you have it last?"
     Now I was the onboard entertainment. Everyone who had been bored while we waited for the other passengers to board were all of a sudden intrigued by what was going on up front.
     "Do you need my phone to call it?"
     "Want me to call it?"
     These are all wonderful offers, but I seem to love putting my phone on Do Not Disturb mode, so there was no way to hear it if someone did call. By this time I was sweating bullets - an all-to-common occurrence in such a situation. I felt so silly.
     It wasn't on the floor by my old seats, where one of the flight attendants and I both checked while on our hands and knees. It wasn't on the floor by my new seats.
    "It'll show up."
    "We'll find it."
    Then the guy sitting behind my new seat spoke up, "You were sitting over there first," pointing to the window seat across the aisle. Sitting right next to that seat was the Asian man! His wife's purse and jacket were laying on it.
     He couldn't really understand English and his wife, who was the new found acquaintance of slightly-irritated woman said something to her husband, which must've made him understand what was going on. He lifted her belongings and there was the phone!
     "Did you go to Notre Dame?" the helpful flight attendant asked me facetiously.
     "Haha, yes. Yes I did." I said slightly embarrassed. Must've noticed the sweatshirt I was wearing.
     "It's a great school." The man behind me interjected.
     Thank you for the change of focus, Phone-finder-man! I thought.
     The flight attendant made sure to check that I had my phone every time he walked by for the remainder of the flight.

   

Brazilian Cleaning Solutions

     This morning, a family of Brazilians walked into my house. In some ways it was humorous. I saw the decal-ed van pull into our street after missing our driveway The doorbell rang, and I was naively expecting a group of four women to walk into our house, cleaning gloves on and ready to get to work. Instead one-by-one the oldest son, followed by the father, mother, daughter and youngest son all marched in prepped with their cleaning equipment ready to scope out the house and being work. It was funny and strange to see a family come into your house, meanwhile you're the only member of your family home and thus required to keep watch all while this new family now cleans up your families mess. It just seemed off.
     My mom loves Groupon and found this cleaning solutions company for a one hour service. On the actual coupon it said "One Four Hour Cleaning Service," so when she said "one hour" I assumed there would be four people instead of one - seemed logical in my head.    
     When they walked in, I asked if it would be easier to come in through the garage, to which I was met with either blank stares, no look whatsoever, or the oldest son replying "Uh..." Due to the language barrier there really wasn't going to be any communicating with this group. Honestly, I was a little concerned with something being broken or stolen. And not because they weren't white - but because they weren't my family. I was the outsider in my own home!
     I felt worlds away from where they were. Here was this family cleaning up my family's mess, while the rest of my family members are going on with their lives, leaving these menial tasks to individuals who would be willing to perform them. How privileged can I be?
     Today I'm getting over a little sickness and so I had to go get rid of some phlegm in the kitchen trashcan when I realized the mother staring at our pantry. She was on the floor, bucket of cleaning supplies next to her, seated with her legs tucked under hear leaning to the side just staring. I at first wondered "What could be so fascinating about our pantry or the pictures and letters and fortune-cookie fortunes that could only mean anything to our family?"
     There was one picture though on that pantry that was higher than the others at which her gaze seemed to rest. It was of Pope Francis.

Immediately I felt connected to her. Connected to all of this family. They were my family. I realize this sounds strange and sappy, but a calm fell over me. We may never be able to verbally communicate, however this one figure, and the greater faith for which he stands, connected her (and in essence her family) and I in that moment. Pretty powerful if you ask me.
     As they left, I offered a "Thank you" and "Have a great day!" No response, just smiles as they left. Who knows where they're going now or what they're doing. But in that moment, we were connected. We were. We are the same.  

Denim Dilemma

      You know what I've never been able to find? The perfect pair of jeans. I've come pretty close, but still not perfect. They're my blue, now-faded Levi 511s. I love them. I've got another pair in black - same size, yet they just aren't the same as my original blue ones. You'd think there wouldn't be anything different with the fit of a blue 511 vs. a black 511, both 32x30, right? Wrong. The black ones have a wider straight cut leg. Weird.
       I've had pairs from Express, Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, Guess, nothing has won me over. Secretly, or maybe not so secret, I wish I looked like one of those Abercrombie models. Will my jeans make me look that way? Oh no. Any piece of clothing can make you look good on the outside, but show some skin and it's still your body. Great...
       Flip through a GQ and of course I'm going to see at least one model wearing the perfectly fitting pair of jeans. Maybe it's my body. Do I just not fit model standards? Here's the big kicker most likely - I don't have the money to spend on an excellent pair of jeans. Diesel is my desirable denim company. However, there's no way I can afford a decent pair, or even one leg of Diesel jeans.
       Pants are arguably my favorite of all items to wear, second to swimsuits. I will not buy a pair unless they are worth the cost. I learned that the hard way. Sometimes it was the other way around. I used the cost to justify the fit, or lack-there-of.
      All these brands though are huge companies that mass produce their jeans. Anyone know of a smaller, more personal company through whom I could get the perfect pair? I know they're going to be expensive, but maybe it's about time I bit the bullet and paid more for that one pair I will wear into the ground.

Sunday Candy by Chance the Rapper

     This song came across the strangest of my media waves - it was posted by a friend of mine on the Oblation: Liturgy and Life blog of the University of Notre Dame. Madeline wrote this post making the assertion that Chance is "Eucharistizing Sexuality." In my infinite cynicism, I was determined to dive deeper into the lyrics to determine if her claims were valid or naive.
     At first listen, the refrain is the first piece to stand out. "You gotta move it slowly/ take and eat my body like it's holy." And "come on in this house, cause it's gonna rain." Pretty sexual, right? Nope. I've been listening and and re-listening to this song, reading over the lyrics, trying to understand what Chance is really saying (well, singing/rapping, what-have-you). Turns out I'm the naive one. The song glorifies his grandmother, a matriarch and religious paragon of the south-side Chicago family.

     If you have the chance, read Madeline's piece in the link above - she only focuses really on a deeper meaning of the refrain lyrics, but it is quite an interesting view I appreciate. Now, let's actually talk about this music video - just needed to establish a background for you all with the lyrics.
     I've never watched or heard any of Chance's other songs, and this video is a real fun complement to "Sunday Candy." Though the verses serve as an ode to his grandmother, the interaction and relationship on-screen is with Jamila Woods' character. This may have been the cause of my naiveté because what I'm seeing is not what the lyrics express. The choreography is quick and the dancers bring the energy to the video Chance's countenance initially lacks.

     Overall it's a fun video - I honestly don't have a whole lot to say about it. It's not that stimulating of a video. I'd rather listen to the song than use the data to watch the video, but it's a decent addition. If this was in fact shot all in one take, I am extremely impressed with the camera work, the crew and the performers. Good work, people.
B

 

Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

     Wow! This girl's got some pipes. Had to watch her at the Brit Awards singing it live and she crushed it! But here's the VEVO link.

     Even though this video came out a year ago, it just recently came to my attention. And I love it. I've watched the music video a few times and still can't seem to get down what exactly is happening. Like any good film, every time I watch it there's something more to take away.

     We find our character on the brink of falling in love. She's a redhead at night, the time during which she struggles the most with and distances herself from her lover. In one shot she promptly removes his hand from her waist as he tries to embrace her while asleep. In another he comes in for a kiss while she backs away.

"I tell myself you don't mean a thing,
And what we got, got no hold on me"

...

"I tell myself I don't care that much"

...

"Say I wouldn't care if you walked away"

     These night bedroom scenes are intermixed with those of the two characters seen in literally the light. She's not pushing him away, but embracing him and what they have. He does mean something, it does have a hold on her, she does care. She's blonde too - her natural color. Her wig, her disguise, her cover, her protection, is gone.

     Love can make us do crazy things that make us not ourselves. However, it can also do the opposite and show us exactly who we are and how we feel. Love hurts. It hurts because she has to pretend to be something she is not. Pretend to not feel something she obviously does. To deny the existence of love.

     Her wig symbolized her protection - preventing herself from the potential hurt of being without him. But when she isn't around him, it hurts even more.

"But when you're not there I just crumble"

...

"But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch"

...

"But every time you're there I'm begging you to stay,
When you come close I just tremble
And every time, every time you go,
It's like a knife that cuts right through my soul"

Take off the wig, look in the mirror, and see who you really are - how you really feel.

     My favorite cinematic sequence is her quite literally allowing herself to fall into love. Right after the bridge, there is a vocal pause and then BAM! She falls from her lover's arms (falling for him) and then right into the water as the chorus begins again. 
 
     This song and video resonate so deeply within me. If not now, at some point in the past or future, it will also resonate with you. What causes you to prevent yourself from experiencing it? Love. Don't be scared to take the plunge.

A+

LOADED Oatmeal Butterscotch Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies

This is a little twist on one of my favorite cookies, oatmeal raisin. The other day I was at the farmer's market in downtown Oxford, OH - a quaint little college town characterized by the dramatic contrast of faux-prep university students and Amish farmers all within a mile of each other.

One stand was selling vegan pastries and one of the cookies looked especially enticing. I asked the girl behind the table what the ingredients were and she had me hooked on the idea of butterscotch and coconut together.

In my head that's a really strange combination. What about adding those two ingredients to an already amazing oatmeal raisin cookie? Well, I decided if I just made those two additions to the cookies, the separate tastes would become indistinguishable and more of a sweet chaos than harmony. So with my own little spin, I made these delicious devils.

These are a pretty easy bake, just make sure you put some effort into combining the softened butter and the rest of the mixture to get an even consistency!

Dry Ingredients
2 cups flour
1 tsp backing soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt

Wet Ingredients
1 cup softened butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla

After combo
~ 2 cups oats
Desired amount of coconut
Desired amount of butterscotch
Desired amount of chocolate chips

STEP ONE: Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees and combine dry ingredients in one large bowl.

STEP TWO: Combine wet ingredients in a second small bowl.
I find it easiest to use a fork when mixing the wet ingredients. It breaks apart the egg yolks well.

STEP THREE: Pour wet ingredients into large bowl with dry ingredients and add oats and desired amounts of add-ins.
** Start with only 1 cup of oats as the consistency of the dough quickly changes when the oats are added. You don't want to put too many oats in, drying out the dough.

Throw them in the oven for about 10 minutes and let them cool for about 2 minutes.

Grab a glass of milk - ENJOY!

Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

The fifth music video to come from her debut solely pop album, Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams is an ode to ill-fated romance. Wildest Dreams plays with the on-off screen struggles of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton (Cleopatra, anyone?) as the perfect portrayal of her song.

Set in the golden age of the silver screen, Taylor (donning a less than ideal dark brown wig) resembles a young Elizabeth Taylor, while Scott Eastwood bears a striking resemblance to Elizabeth's acting peer, his father Clint. The two were never romantically involved, however Elizabeth Taylor and her often paired actor-husband Richard Burton were famous for their tumultuous relationship.

Though her acting chops on the big screen may not be on par just yet, Taylor's ability to express the conflict of her lyrics and the emotions of her protagonist are clearly visible.

It's shot beautifully with much of the backdrop being the African savanna (kudos for the final conservation proceeds notice!). However, part of me just still can't get over her wig...

The video is also arguably her most provocative to date, though still tame in comparison to some of her peers. Before the first refrain she's already lip locked with Scott - oh and cue Princess Diaries reference with the foot-popping kiss!











 
Structurally, the video is coherent - a characteristic that seems to be more and more difficult to find in today's music videos. It's evocative of a 50s/60s Hollywood and an enjoyable watch. Will it be as big as Blank Space? Probably not, but it's the perfect pair to her fifth single off 1989. 

A 

MTV's 2015 Video Music Circus

Watching the 2015 VMA's was a challenge. Our apartment does not have a cable subscription and I was not home from work until (I assume) Miley had already made her fourth costume change and third marijuana reference - making my live viewing impossible. MTV.com was replaying the entire event the next day, but not in one continuous stream. Each segment was broken down into a video clip, which proved tedious to watch sequentially seeing that the same three advertisements were placed in between every other clip (and out of 40 clips, I grew a bit tired of Katy Perry and Chrissy Teigan). Not only was figuring out a way to watch it difficult, but the program itself was a bumpy ride.

Featuring its first solo-host in two years, the 2015 VMA's could have chosen wiser. Maybe one who didn't focus so much on herself? Did Miley win some sort of raffle for this gig? I shouldn't be surprised though, it's the entertainment industry and everyone is out to keep his or her name relevant (that being said, I'm surprised Madonna didn't show - the most decorated and consistent show stealing artist in the history of the Awards).

 
For Miley, she accomplished what she came there to do - promote herself. Aside from two standout performances by burgeoning artists the Weeknd and Tori Kelly, the awards quickly became Miley's one woman circus. From the costumes to the all-to-common weed references to the drag queen back up dancers and ultimate free album reveal at the end, I felt like I was watching Miley's Circus and everyone else (presenters, audience members, nominees, winners, etc.) was just an attendee.

 
So much happened that night, but nothing of significance. Social news feeds were littered with comments and features of the night, but just transient sentiments. If one thing from the 2015 VMA's will be remembered, it will be Kanye's rant of an acceptance speech (not really the content, nor that his and Taylor's PR teams wanted to make as public of an announcement as they could that "we're all friends here!"). That was six years ago... do we need to keep digging up the past? Is your reputation that important to you? Wait, of course it is!

Oh yea, and he's going to run for President in 2020?     

Aside from all the distracting antics of the night (e.g. Nicki calling out Miley on stage after what seemed to be a sarcastic acceptance speech), the Weeknd with his "I Can't Feel My Face" and Tori Kelly with her "Should've Been Us"  were the only two that really nailed their performances vocally. They didn't need a slew of back-up dancers and special affects (sans the Weeknd's sick ring of fire!) to distract from their talent. Outside Mackelmore & co. as well as Demi with Iggy gave fun, but ultimately unmemorable performances of their newest singles.

The 2015 VMA's - a two hour commercial for Miley's new album (to which I have fallen prey) and a reminder of how jaded the music industry can be. B-

 

Welcome to Me - A memoir for Alice

Welcome to Me is a snapshot in the life of Alice (well-played by Kristin Wiig, a comedic actress who's more recent turns in dramatic roles have showcased her range), a woman diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder who wins $86 million in the CA lottery. The remainder of the film follows her as she uses her winnings to pay for her own talk show (modeled after her obsession, Oprah) and subsequent issues and oddities arise. We are hurriedly thrown into her world and only able to catch a glimpse of her pre-lottery life if we're observant enough to notice the details - the hundreds of VHS recordings of Oprah episodes, the stacks and stacks of lottery tickets, the copy of O Magazine she keeps with her, her loyalty to a certain convenient store where the clerk knows her order so Alice doesn't even enter the building. 

Alice's show synonymous with the film is quirky and vulgar, but with rather matter-of-fact delivery. The financier of the show, she has the ability to do what she pleases (e.g. riding in on a swan boat or recounting her morning finding a stray pubic hair on her toilet seat).

The film has a very promising premise, yet lacks the depth such a subject requires. All of the relationships seem fairly superficial, even with her best (and only) friend who serves as only a listening board for Alice's problems. I'm surprised she stuck around as long as she did. Her 'lover' exists solely on a platonic level. Her gay ex-husband is the only person who actually has some level of concern and freely cares for her.

After the conclusion of her show, a letdown of a series finale, we leave Alice as she turns off her home TV - an action she has not performed in 17 years. Is she making a change? Is this a concrete conclusion or a hopeful attempt? With her 'lover's' gift, a personal camcorder, she once again has the camera turned onto herself. She as the subject of her own show and now as the protagonist of her own camera's recording, is what she has been the entire movie, the sole focus of her entire life.
 
Overall the film has good intentions, but it too rushed and lacks emotional depth. Welcome to Me is too short a film to create any investment in the characters or the story line. Alice's moments of struggle are acted superbly, but just because she is crying, doesn't mean I care to react. B-

Poison - RITA ORA (or DKNY...?)

Had to watch this video twice to find any depth. First go-round I couldn't get past the ridiculous product placements, but also how much the video resembled a DKNY photo shoot. If you know, Rita has been the face of DKNY since late 2013. I would not be surprised if the entirety of the wardrobe choices (both male and female) were of Donna Karan design. What better way to advertise your brand than exploiting your star representative's talent? How can we stretch this song to make it fit into a promotional video for our brand rather than the other way around? It more closely resembles an extended commercial than an artist's music video.

The rumored interpretation is a far stretch from its vanity. We know she's beautiful. Rita Ora is gorgeous. However, we don't need a close to 5-minute video reaffirming this observation.

She's clad in beautiful get-ups and shown getting her make-up done for photo shoot after photo shoot rising to the climax - a launch gala. It isn't until the bridge of the song when we see her 'really' struggle. Until this point we've seen her emotions rise from confusion to wonder to excitement and happiness. Pause the music. Enter brunette old DKNY boyfriend (a near mirror-image of her new icy blonde photographer man). She wants him back. Can't have him with her new lifestyle. Finds life of photos and clothes unfulfilling. Naturally then, she's less clothed to reveal her perfect body (strip off the new and put on some of the old). And let's burn a photo or two to really hammer out the metaphors.

While the video has good intentions and is beautifully shot, there is still a veil of vanity that is difficult to pull away. Congratulations Rita, you've affirmed you're beautiful - though you didn't need to waste a perfectly decent song. B 

Bitch, I'm Madonna - and I'm Still Here

Not that I'm attempting to tackle this whole video in one post, Madonna's music video for "Bitch I'm Madonna" is a very enjoyable watch. Bright colors overload the video. Every frame perfectly accents Madge's punk studded pink leather jacket. With the initial promise of a pop song (featuring several of her pop predecessors), "Bitch" very quickly turns into a club ready hit. Add in Madonna's own Harajuku girls sans Gwen and you've got a little bit of a Tokyo Drift vibe.

Surrounded by peers young enough to be her children, Madonna manages to not look completely (her visible roots and pink ombre screaming "does this make me look two decades younger?") desperate for relevancy. You'll also never be able to forget her iconic gap. Whoever her team is has done a wonderful job with this video. I wish I could attend a party in this fantasy sugar world. Make out with hot guy. Make out with girl. Pour beer on random stairwell man. Party party party.

The last few seconds of rolling around on the floor were a bit confusing and ultimately superfluous. Why did we need to see her rolling around the floor in an oversized shirt? Was that an attempt to replicate a certain other Queen's video? No matter her age, she can still make a hit with a killer video.

A-

Favorite part: the two x-nippled girls in the bathtub and the subsequent dance sequence. 

bus2nyc

Traveling alone is an adventure in and of itself, but only if you allow it to become one. Being the poor post grad I am, I was thrifty in my transportation purchases on a recent trip to Boston. My first leg of the trip involved the bus2nyc [yes that's the companies legitimate name], which was a charter bus set up more like Ryan Air, cheaply getting you to your destination with the chance of death you're willing to risk for a lower price tag. Add in the smell of unwashed human beings and the discomfort of 9 hours on a bus and you've got bus2nyc [or Sky Horse Bus, another bus option from Columbus to Chinatown – pick your poison].

Only the experienced bus traveler can understand the feelings of odd contortions in which you will position yourself in order to get at least an hour of sleep that is unless you run with our narcotic brethren or can afford a neck pillow, then by all means you'll get a wonderful night sleep. However, the less fortunate (and non-drug addicted) normal folk, twist, turn, flip, bend, and crouch into any position possible.

The guy behind me in the saggy and at the same time skinny jeans [How these came into style somewhat baffles me. The waist can't seem to stay on, but don't worry because if it falls, the knee and calf are tight enough to hold the rest up] may have been a performer for Cirque du Soleil with his impressive show of two-seat contortions. Every time I awoke changing positions [mainly due to the sweat I had perspired from putting effort into my comfort], I would turn and see him, happily asleep behind me, one leg on the floor, one on the ceiling, knees to his chest and chin lightly resting on top.

Where his arms went I never got a decent enough glance for fear he might have seen me observing his posture [hoping to somewhat imitate it in a less contorted manner if at all possible]. I finally became so exhausted it didn't matter how I was positioned because my brain did turn off. No narcotics or neck pillow necessary. However, my back and neck would later complain about how abusive I was. Lately we seem to be having relationship issues anyway, so my chiropractor says. He serves as more of a counselor in our relationship and every once and a while the masseuse will take over to temporarily quell any tension.

As I walked the 40 plus blocks from Chinatown to the Hudson Yards on 30^th, I admired the beautiful weather, the massive construction projects underway and the lack of obese Americans. It's a nice change of pace here in New York. If you want to get any where on time you have to walk. Taking a taxi should only be done for those long ventures - something I could have done, but actively chose not to with a 30 lb bag strapped to my side, jacket in one hand and phone in the other. Once I started to sweat all I could think about was the poor soul who would have to sit next to me on the MegaBus to Boston.

I hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before and arrived at Chinatown around 9 am with a little over an hour to get to the bus stop. Checking different walking routes on my phone it seemed the trip would only take an hour. Maybe I would have time to get to McDonalds and grab an iced coffee.

My hopes were destroyed when I reminded myself of my past escapades to a coffee shop in New York [rhymes with Darthbucks]. No matter how much I tried not to, I was dripping my face off by the time I got to the counter to order. The second I start to sweat I just don't stop. It's a nervous habit. “Do they see me sweating? Shit, they totally do. Crap. Now I'm sweating more. Lemme run into the bathroom and wash my face with as much cold water as possible then dry it off in hopes of reducing the evidence.” No use. There was no time. This sweaty Midwesterner needed to get to Boston whether his stomach liked it or not. I'd rather save the least bit of my dignity than order an iced coffee with room for sweat.

Instead of worrying about how much time I had left until the bus departed or if the bus was going to be there or if I had missed it or was going in the wrong direction, I played a game with myself. It started off to be, Can These People See Me Looking At Them? I'm a people-watcher at heart - lifeguarding for four years I've learned to be pretty good at it.

Can These People See Me Looking At Them? quickly turned into Guy or Girl.  Hopefully you can guess what the rules were for this game. Most of my subjects started out as obviously male or female, some less human looking than others. Every now and then certain individuals would catch my eye. I was lucky enough to have one walk right in front of me for a block, (s)he turned right in front of me and continued walking so I wasn't able to get an immediate glimpse of his/her face. Short, dark, Pharrell hat with a floppy feminine brim, scarf, purple shawl-like thing, glasses, a dangly skirt, and heeled boots that only came up to the ankle. The legs were cleanly shaven, with goose bumps covering most of the calves. These were the kicker for me. There was no butt and as far as I could tell not much of a chest, but what was it about these calves? They weren't feminine. I can't say feminine calves are skinny, because I've seen many that are beautiful and muscular and others that are solid cylinders – cankles from ankle to knee. (S)he turned away down a street that wasn't on my route to the bus stop, so I unfortunately lost that round. Androgynous Persons 1, Me 0.

One other specialty of traveling for long periods is hygiene. Yours and everyone else's. Not all humans have the same practices. I for one am probably on the far end of the cleaner [more anal] side of the spectrum. Teeth brushed? Mouthwash? Deodorant? Well, I'm not sure what I smell like right now, but I'm very confident it's not what I would want to be smelling like for long. Sweaty nether-region, unbrushed teeth and non-reapplied pits. Watch out Boston. This boys gonna be addin some smell to your city.

The real issue I have though, is the consideration of others. Maybe the woman behind me couldn't help it. Maybe she has chronically bad breath, maybe my nose is just hypersensitive [which is often the case]. The second she opened her mouth to start talking to someone on the other end of the phone, the smell of who knows what wafted from her mouth. Something died in there. That had to be it. It wasn't old coffee breath. No, this was straight up death. Rigor mortis was probably already setting in on the poor thing that died within the depths of this ironically pretty girl's mouth. But just as quick at the conversation started, it ended. I better keep my mouth shut too. A lot has probably died in there in the past few hours.

Half an hour before we arrived in Boston, she did the unthinkable. I should've given her more credit. She popped the most sweetly mint smelling piece of gum into her mouth and filled the air with a light fresh scent. My mouth could benefit from that.

Beginnings

Why here? Why now? When will life happen? It's happening now.
I've got to just start somewhere.
Well.
I'm starting... now!