For my calves with love.

While it both pains and embarrasses me to see that my last post was made about five months ago and my last blog-worthy post was published at the beginning of the year, my current resurrection simply implies that I have finally decided to end the year cleaning the cobwebs off this blog. In fact, I went as far as changing the blog title and the “tag line” but maintained my username to eternally pay homage to the beaten bicycle that stuck with me through the perils and struggles of learning how to ride a bike post-childhood phase in a foreign country (I was 19 and it was in Thailand).

Anyway, I’m back to writing right now because there finally came a point in this premature career of mine that I realized I don’t want to do anything else but write. I know it’s “too soon” as far as the the Eat. Pray. Love. meter is concerned and god knows my mind would change in the next fifteen minutes, but it was my sporadic yet frequent trips to corporate rock bottom that finally opened my eyes to the truth (will think of a better line next time, promise). And just to be clear on the dramatic term “corporate rock bottom”, six out of 10 times I made sure that I wasn’t just running away from the deadlines and the pressure. I had to constantly assess that I wasn’t just being a wuss about life in general. However, when it finally came to the point where I was actually enjoying and managing my work well but still thought of writing instead, I knew I had to do something about it.

So I’m proud to say that I have done step one which is to leave my current job and step two which is to write constantly. From here, I have no idea what to do next. I have thought about going to school but I am more concerned with being able to pay the bills. I have also entertained the idea of travelling the country on a bus and to write a book about the experience  (to which my usually supportive mother responded by rolling her eyes)–yes, I have watched too much films to justify this vision. So yes, clueless indeed.

What I do know, as of this moment, Monday, November 26, 2012, 12:31AM is my motto in life. It may not sound as promising as “too legit too quit” or “fall seven times get up eight” but I think it applies to any aspect of  life. Plus, it’s French.

Sadly, I cannot remember the book where I first read the line l’esprit de l’escalier but I do remember I was in my last year of college. Earlier this evening, I came across it again while browsing through a Tuscany-themed interior designing book over at a relative’s home and knew I found my tattoo line of choice (but since I can’t get one and live under the same roof with my parents, I decided to use it as my new blog title instead). The term literally translates to staircase wit but is used as a French idiomatic expression to describe a comeback when it’s too late. Or in a more dramatic explanation, the feeling you get after leaving a conversation and suddenly think about the things you might have said (got this from Tumblr so don’t get mad).

Urban Dictionary also offers a definition I’m sure everyone can relate to:

Gahh. Click to enlarge.
To be honest, I don’t think I can go “damn, stair wit!” if this happened to me because I would either be a.) temporarily frozen in my own cold absence of mind/stupidity or b.) busy blaming myself by inflicting mild and legal physical violence on the person I’m with.

Of course, I didn’t just choose this because it impeccably describes my flirting skills (or lack thereof). But you see, one of the most important things I learned this year is the value of life–the opportunities we encounter, the people we spend it with and all that. I know it’s not some brand new discovery but I also realized that I have been living as a spectator of my own life instead of being the main character. I’ve become passive as I got older; taking for granted all the wonderful blessings I am bestowed with everyday. Then when I read about the origin of l’esprit de l’escalier and how the French philosopher Denis Diderot discovered if after being left speechless after being addressed with a seemingly strong remark and then to only came up with the perfect reply when he reached the bottom of the stairs as he was about to leave the party, I read the signal.

The bottom of stairs was the neon sign; blinding the hell out of me. I saw the bottom of the stairs as that brief transition from life to death where you think of the things you should have, in this case, said AND done.

And I’m  in this phase in life where I come to a halt midway the staircase to stop and think about that perfect comeback, so I can go back and deliver that damn reply. So when I do reach the bottom of stairs, I would be ready to take that one last step.

I then saw  that coming up with that reply would entail years and years of going up and down that damn staircase. After all, how do you respond to the remark that is life? I guess responding doesn’t mean you have to come up with a definite answer but rather being able to look  back and feel that you don’t owe anyone any reply in the first place. Because at the end of of this walk, the journey going down and even the kind of staircase you build for yourself is what truly matters.

If I were to Name Victoria’s Secret’s ‘Refreshing Body Mists’

First of all, it’s not perfume. I really don’t know how to explain what mist is. But I feel like it’s supposed to be this mysterious hybrid of liquid and gas which creates this aura of sweet, hypnotizing sensuality. At least that’s what I felt way back sophomore year in college, when a male classmate of mine walked past me, took a step backward and (I am not kidding) sniffed me and said ‘Hhmm..You smell nice. Love spell?” which of course made the unknowing sophomore blush. But now that I think about it, he was probably gay. C’mon, it is common for guys to give compliments but an immediate scent reference? Puh lease.

Anyway, my sudden interest in VS Body Mists was a product of waiting for my mom to pay in the cashier. The new design of the said cologne actually caught my eye. However, it was the label that got me attentive all of a sudden.

Who comes up with these titles? Or better yet, who approves them? I’m not saying they’re tacky or corny but I gotta hand it to them and their knack for words. I know it’s all part of the VS concept of ‘sweet subtle seduction’ but I really am amazed at the talent of these people because it does have quite an effect to the lowly consumer. Like when I read ‘Sheer Love’, I suddenly felt cheeky and wanted to smell all of them! But everything changed when I saw ‘Endless Love’–because I was in full cute mood when BAM! an image of Lionel Richie in full 80s wardrobe came into my mind.

When we left Watson’s, I thought about what would it be like if I were given the privilege to name VS Body Mists. I also wanted to test my way with sensual wordplay. So I said to myself, I will write down the first few titles that would pop onto my mind:

1. Pleasurable Pastrami;
2. Mischievous Meatloaf;
3. Naughty Nuggets;
4. Salami Seduction;
5. Wave of Waffles.

Hhmm. I know I should be scared because god knows what will those hungry VS Angels would do to me when they hear the first two syllabes of ‘Pastrami’. While it made me realize I was a better fit over at ‘Vicky’s Secret Steakhouse’, I also learned three things: I do have a way for using such words especially when it comes to Italian protein; I could really succeed in menu writing, of course I can’t have ‘Naughty Nuggets’ so it has got to be a
special kind of food joint; which leads me to number three: how about opening a restaurant for the most likely heartbroken/PMS-suffering/overworked irrational eater? I can imagine it now…

Customer: Can I have..sniff..two orders..of..sniff..Passion Bacon and..sniff..Carbttini?

Me: Coming right up Ma’am! How about for dessert?

Customer: hhhmm sniff I’ll have Whispers of Whipped Cream please.

Wow. Just WOW. Thank you VS and all those people you force to snort glitter and come up with lines like “Lost in Fantasy”.

Blossoming Burrito
Enchalada Escape

Now where was I?

It was bound to happen.

My absence, my silence and delays are nothing but purely temporary. In fact, I already presumed that this would be the first of its many kind. But just because I was not able to write for a week doesn’t mean that I won’t follow through. I knew from the very moment I committed myself to this Project 365, I would face major chronological coupled with biological setbacks, doesn’t mean I would leave it hanging. I started January 1, I shall end December 31, 2012.

And why is my word construction of choice look like I came from a post-World War II European novel? Okay I will now stop with my psuedo-intellectual quotations before the bad asses of literature break my virtual neck.

But in all honesty, I am feel bad for not being able to catch up on my writing for the past week. My work has really gotten way out of hand but not in the drug addiction kind of sense–more like hey, I can still spare five minutes to do some Jumbo Word Search while I nibble my pita bread but I basically eat, sleep and breath work for the past week. You see, my current workload has finally reached the ridiculous level as far as human capacity workload is concerned. I’m not complaining, in fact, I can actually that I’m enjoying the pressure but it does bum it out that I can no longer spare some energy for blogging on a daily basis.

While my hands were not able to do some typing, my mind has not ceased to think about my daily “must-write insights”. Before I began the project, I went through some blogs that gave tips on the Project 365, one writer suggested that you shouldn’t let posts go “unposted” for two days but in my case, I decided to give my self a “one week tops” deadline.

So what I’ll do now is post my highlights of the week. With photos of course.

PS. I might have to break my rule about having to take photos on the exact same day. I know, I hate it when I have to bend the rules I made for myself but… I already ate rice for lunch and dinner today so having to use late photos wouldn’t really matter anymore. Gah!

Day 12: Meet Sister Gina! :)

Day 12: Meet Sister Gina! :)

The events that unfolded on this day was another manifestation of God’s goodness and unending grace. I was starting to feel emotionally and physically exhausted from the beginning of this week but this Thursday finally took its toll on me. I was already looking forward to another night of restless stupor but when my brother picked me up from work today, he told me that Sister Gina has arrived earlier that day. I couldn’t thank God enough for saving me from myself. I’m not yet confident to write about my faith in public but I fully agree on the saying that God works in mysterious ways and He indeed has an amazing way of healing. So, meet my Day 12 heroine, Sister Gina.

The year was 2006 and it was Davao City’s turn to host the annual National Youth Day. It’s an activity approved by the Catholic Bishop’s Conference of the Philippines on 1986, to quote, “as a way for concretizing its preferential apostolate for the youth”. Anyway, this event meant that people of faith, as well as the youth would come from different parts of the country to visit and participate in the many activities. The local church was just a stone’s throne away (such a dramatic idiom but I like it) from our house. And from my late grandmother to my younger brother, every generation in our family had someone who actively participated both in masses and the Church community in general. So I was not surprised when my dad told we would be one of the foster homes for the nuns. That’s where we met Sister Gina and Sister Reggie. To be honest and I do feel bad for having to admit this, I don’t really remember much of Sister Reggie or the events of the 2006 NYD. I was having graduation jitters as early as December, not to mention the pre-college phase I was going through. Anyway, the sisters spent about four days at our place and in between NYD Activities, we toured them around and showed them what the City had to offer. Before they left we told them that if they happened to come back, our home was always open for them. And it really was. Since then, Sister Gina would spend one January night here at home as our “transient guest”.

You see, Sister Gina is based in Jolo, Sulu but was born in Agusan. Sulu is located in the southern part of Mindanao and it’s one of those places that is socially-known among Filipinos as, well, “risky” especially for Roman Catholics. Agusan, on the other hand, was at the northern part of the Island. Every Christmas she goes back home to spend the Holidays with her family, which is why she spends one night at our place before she goes back to the Congregation because the journey takes too long. Her experiences in Jolo is usually our topic of discussion, while she enjoys my updates about the world–from Hollywood, to conspiracy theories to history. Sister Gina and  I never run out of things to talk about, I know I’m usually shy with people I’m not constantly acquainted with, but it is really different with her. She is not only a amazing story-teller but also a sincere listener. I could say that through her words and laughter, I came back to my senses; I was being more sensible and rational with my thoughts and how I interpreted my current situation. Things became bearable, lighter and beautiful. It was God working, He blessed my family with this wonderful woman who visited us once a year for four years now and has left a profound mark in the course of the year.

Thank you Sister Gina. Now I see that all the books I have and other luxuries that shall accompany throughout the year will never compare to the 24 hours I spend with you. You are indeed, God-sent. See you again next year! 🙂

Day 11: I can’t believe I ate all of that.

The title of this post pays tribute to the genius of a video that is the  “Sh*t Girls Say” series in YouTube.  It is my response to my “sporadic turned daily turned means of preserving sanity” consumption of junk food. I am fully aware of the consequence of this habit of course, but my irrational gastronomic desires leave me defenseless and defeated as I finish my bag of chips every three o’clock in the afternoon. I always convince myself that “I’m doing myself  a favor” or that “I deserve this” because of the heavy workload I am currently faced with. But when I peer at the empty packaging and the crumbs that indicate senseless devouring–I am left with the urge to stab myself with pencils. That’s how hostile I am whenever I  mix stress, trans fat and images of Miranda Kerr in my head.

To simply put, today was  extremely stressful and energy draining and it took me a while to write this sentence because I was too absorbed with licking the peanut butter remains off my fingers. Yes my non-existent fans, it is one of those days again. And seeing the result of the meeting earlier today, “one of those days” will gradually turn into EVERYDAY. Anyway, do I sound like I’m whining? Because I am half-not and half-am. Surprisingly, the root of my agony is not about the amount and nature of work given to me. In fact, I am happy for beginning understand and feeling eager to WERKK THIZZ BETCH ON DA FACE. However, I simply cannot deny the nagging reality that I am TIRED. EXHAUSTED. BEAT. Of work definitely, but not of blogging (I guess I am now enjoying what writers say about passion–you just do it).

Good thing I have with my friends from the junkfood industry. As Mr. Bennet describe Mrs. Bennet’s nerves, “They have been my constant companion”. Even though I hate the way they make me feel guilty and FATTER, I am beyond thankful for their unhealthy deliciousness.

****** I wrote this back January 11. I want to continue it today, January 13:

All I can say is, I’m insane.

Day 10: The little things…

Day 10: The little things...

I am writing from January 13 but I took this photo at around 10PM of January 10, the day before all my workload spiraled out of control. I plan to cram all four blogging backlogs tonight because I owe it to myself.

There’s nothing really much I could remember except for being tired and venting my exhaustion through food that night but I don’t want to tire you anymore by my food/work rants. Let’s just say I’m going through a phase. Quintessential, I know. But I really am exploring my attitude towards food and so far this is what I learned: if I crave something, like rice, I should give in even once because if I ignore the craving for too long, I am bound to go mental once I give in. Really mental.

But like I said enough about that.

I was having a break from homework and decided to play with the DSLR and Photoshop. I wanted to take a photo of the things that made me feel good on that very moment. I didn’t even have the time to think because it was already there, piled right beside my laptop. The little things that made feel at ease, the little things that calmed my senses, the little things that kept sanity levels alarm-free.

A book (Looking for Alaska by John Green), Chinese Green Tea and a Granola Bar–and I’m done. After a long day of standing up, sitting down, talking, listening, writing and reading. I just want to find a silent spot at home and get lost in Literaryland. I used to do this more often two years ago, but ever since my last year in college and starting my career EXACTLY A MONTH after graduation, I’m already lucky if I get to practice this ritual at least thrice a week nowadays.

I just want to keep this post simple and light–a great contrast to my seemingly Girl, Interrupted post during Day 09.

For the record, I’m very thankful for growing up and being this kind of person. Three years ago, I was kind of scared when someone told me I was living a boring life. So there was time during college where drinking was a little frequent (but not Jersey Shore frequent) and doing crazy antics was part of my weekly agenda. I don’t have any regrets, all those moments of peer pressure and self-proving happened for a reason. But looking back, I want to say to that person that 1. I’m proud to be boring because 2. I’m not and 3. I don’t need to please you or anybody else.

Because truthfully, in this world where we are convinced to have so much and do everything, what really gives us true satisfaction are the little things.

Day 09: Insert a word that technically means being trapped but less tragic.

Day 09: Insert a word that technically means being trapped but less tragic.

Confined, perhaps? Too medical. Ambushed is too CNN for me, let alone ensnared (it sounds like I was stuck in the pages of the Harry Potter series–but I don’t mind).

This photo, while it looks like it doesn’t make any sense at all, actually does. It also best embodies the phase that I went through and I guess I still am going through. I also don’t want to make use of my usual way of talking in restless riddles or writing the way I think think/talk. I will try to be scholarly and detached; as if I’m telling you story in a dim foggy room, while our bodies experience profuse intoxication and little by little, the world starts to spin and sober thoughts make their way through our alcohol-ridden mouths.

I was the point of view. I was the audience to my own play. Day by day turning into the spectator instead of the main character of my own life. I have tried to define myself, but end up defying such attempt to explain, to expound, to give meaning to something that I felt that I didn’t own.

Yesterday, they were playing the same old film. A painful two hours that chronicled my shortcomings, frustrations and incapacity to act against them. I was having a Clockwork Orange moment, strapped to my seat not by chains but something I could not understand. Something that  anchored me to mediocrity, a force only I could feel.

And I go through the same screening time again and again, twice or four times a month. No one but my passiveness forcing me to sit and stare, to feel the pain but fail to get rid of it otherwise. I had time and again feared the time when waters turned into ice–maybe not forever, but definitely with no intention of melting to soon.

Was it passiveness? I hope not but sometimes I can’t help think that I have successfully failed to respond. I am slowly believing that was no longer in a constant battle against drowning into oblivion–because, as I see it now, there was no struggle in the first place. I was headed to a single direction, head first into the pit of 50%, I was too absorbed with my own thoughts and visions that my body could no longer wait.

As I said, I am the point of view. I am still, frozen through time. Tomorrow is forever blocked, hazy and uncertain because of the mirror that kept me, trapped me, to my faults and failures of the past. Thus, I trip, I pretend, I guess, I have no knowledge of the other side. There is no one to blame but myself, me–who chose to look, to dwell, to remain in the realm of memories.

But a single part of me still believes that one day, when the credits roll, I shall get up from my seat, attempt to face what still awaits and trip and gain sight from all this clear blindness. I just hope the fall will not be permanent.

Day 08: I Don’t Need Much and So Do You

Day 08: I Don't Need Much and So Do You

I promised myself that the photos in this Project will strictly be a.)taken by me and b.) taken on the exact designated date even if I make the post later. For example, today is January 09 but I’m writing my January 08 post and the photo for the January 08 entry was taken on the same date. But enough about rules.

Before I begin, I would like to take this time to greet one of my best friends, Janelle Tee who is celebrating her 21st birthday in Macau–away from her family and friends. But it seems you found  some good company there, I hope it will be less lonely now. I miss you, Nelle! You take care always and I pray for a long healthy life full of love, happiness and resilience. God bless you always! 🙂

So January 08, Sunday, was the morning after the storm–the aftermath. I say this because I woke up way later than my usual waking up time with sore calves and an aching body. At least I know that the hiking yesterday served its purpose.

It was one of those simple Sundays where we have a feast for lunch and spend the afternoon either sleeping or going somewhere to pray if not, go to church. However, this Sunday was extra special because my mom, my brothers and I went to a home for the sick and elderly. I won’t expound on the matter because I’m not comfortable talking about these things out in the open. But for blogging purposes, let’s just say that while I was expecting it to be a joyous and heart-warming afternoon, I left the place possessing so much more than that.

So after the visit, we had some frozen yogurt then headed back home. Hours later, the lights were already turned off and I was about to succumb to sweet, sweet sleep when I realized that I was not able to take any photo for the day. Thus in the naked dark, I grabbed my phone and took a photo of a random part of my wall and decided that I would reserve all the in-depth connection-making for the next day.

And I did.

During our visit, I met all these sick and impoverished men and women from ages 19 to 80. I saw them sitting on plastic chairs, wearing simple home clothes, talking to one another, strumming to the ukelele, listening to the soft rain or in deep prayer. Then two things crossed my mind: the first one is that there is so much more to this world than the mundane things I find myself having a craving for. I can say that I am relatively simple compared to most 21 year olds in my generation but I admit that there are times wherein I get so worldly that I pressure myself into doing and owning so many things, things that are mere dictations by society but zero in true human value. Yes, there was so much in the world that needed my attention, sometimes I’m too full of myself that I fail to take action or even realize that it’s not always about me.

The second one is about my wall. Last year, my uncle was doing this HUGE cleaning spree and found stacks  of magazines he brought home from work (he works in a hotel=lots of free stuff). My bedroom was also renovated last year and I allotted a big blank wall for the things that inspired me. After months of deliberation and routine magazine skimming, I ripped off ads that had unique statements and images. I even ripped a black and white photo of Joseph Gordon-Levitt from a magazine I read in Yogurt place. Anyway, my point was that I semi-filled (not yet finished) my wall with things that I wanted, words that I hoped to live by and images that described who I am. The world map is the  best representation of my what I truly wanted in life and that is to travel and see every bit of it.

But that visit last Sunday afternoon made me reassess all of it. This of course happened after realizing the whole thing about how there’s so much of the world and that living your life to the fullest is, ironically, not completely about you. The thing is, I am now faced with the conclusion that while I still hope to one day experience a Trans-Siberian train ride from China to Russia, I must keep in my mind to always, always include those who are in need in my priority list. I do think it’s the only way to fill in the gap of our insides after we have shopped all the clothes possible or read all the books from the Beauty and the Beast library.

I know countless books have been written, films produced and conversations with Oprah aired in order to continuously remind the human race and the emerging generations about the things that truly matter. I don’t mean to sound hostile and pessimistic but the world is by and by rotting both in morals and natural resources. How can we resolve it then? How can we think straight if there’s too much publicity hypnotizing us into buying the latest from this and that? I’m not going to lie, I find myself time and again lost in superficiality but   I guess for once I can say that I’m lucky to live in a poor country because everyday I face reality in its most fresh and truest form. Sadly, it’s not everyday I act something out of that confrontation.

Thus I am thankful  for what I have–both tangibly and intangibly and utterly feel blessed to be now possessing knowledge of this sort. I’m not saying that after this post I shall follow the extraordinary footsteps of Mother Teresa. But I do know now that, truthfully, I don’t need much and so do you.

Day 07: Happy Bleep-th Birthday, Tita Femy!

Day 07: Happy Bleep-th Birthday, Tita Femy!

While I cannot really understand the word omen (I know what it means, I just can’t verbally define it–my hand gestures and facial expression can do a better job though), I can however say that by spending the first weekend like this is definitely a good omen for the rest of the year.

Anyway, the first Saturday of the year was a two in one event. First of all, it was Tita Femy’s birthday celebration and at the same time a reunion for the Ozoa side of the family. Most of the day was spent at Eden Nature Park–where we had a scrumptious lunch and an insane hiking experience! To explain further, as you can see in the family photo above, my wet hair gave emphasis to my increasingly round face. Before this was taken, Kuya Jun-jun, Ate Tina, Ditto and I decided to follow the shuttle tour route on foot. Our first destination was the Amphitheater, which was relatively near the main hall. We then decided to visit Lola’s Garden because it had a better view of the city…little did we know, we were in for the hiking of our lives. It was waaaaay far alright, but the distance was not the problem! It was our lack of gear and inappropriate outfit. I would have nailed that hike had I worn stretch pants or decent rubber shoes. I was in black jeans and my worn-out Vans for christ’s sake. Now I have a bitch of wound just above by right ankle. You have no idea how totally unprepared we were for that hike. I was soaking wet and my legs were in so much pain, I swear I thought it would just break with exhaustion. But after what seemed to me an eternity of half-mental cursing, half-pretentious GV (fake it till you make it, it works), and I saw the main office I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie Cast Away when he was rescued.

From Eden, we paid our respects to our dear deceased loved ones in Memorial Park then we took them to Jack’s Ridge to do some last sightseeing. Afterwards, it was decided that we have dinner at our home before our relatives go back to Tagum. So after sharing a simple meal together, they bid farewell–exchanging hugs and see you soons.

It was not just the reunion or the activities of the day that made me really, really happy. You see, most of the year 2011 the family went through both major and minor turbulence.  It was getting more and more depressing and awkward but by the beginning of the new year everything was back to normal. Everyone was talking again, laughing again and I missed it so much and my heart was just bursting when we were joking around just like the old times. It was definitely a huge wave of relief for me, because I thought things would be left broken and hanging forever. I realized then how important my family was to me, no matter how much we sometimes get into each others nerves or what, nothing compares to the happiness my family brings.

I’m starting to sound like a regular contributor for Chicken Soup of the soul!

I have to go now!

If I didn’t see the video, would I still listen to the song?

Good Evening Friends!

Welcome to another episode of Typical Weekend Evenings with Bea, today’s episode is entitled: “How I Planned to Worked My Ass Off Tonight but Decided to Spend It Browsing Hipster Music Videos Instead”.

Tonight I have been feasting on British MVs and the ones that starred young Hollywood actors like this one. I couldn’t help but post this  because of my recent conversion from Team James and to team Dave Franco (I can’t believe I made an actual “Team” reference). I think, that while I have always adored James for his artistry and his capacity to always look broken and stoned (my weakness for Y-Chromosomes, I think)–Dave has grown to be more “normal”, not to mention painfully MORE good looking.

But the objective of this post is not to bore you with crazy fan girl ramblings (but you if you insist, why not?). This is about my take on music videos that feature celebrities and if I didn’t see the video, would I still listen to the song? In the case of the above posted, it was the beat that got me, especially in the beginning and all the parts with the xylophone-ish tone. I guess I came to love it because the video was really compatible with song, the lyric-less parts with Emma and Dave in the car, the scene had no words but their acting and the sensation of the song said a lot. I had to refrain myself from watching the video whilst listening to the song to answer my dilemma, but sadly, I can’t help but admit that I have come to like the song because of the music video.

Another good example would be Rock Mafia’s MV for The Big Bang. It starred Miley Cyrus and Kevin Zeggers, now whenever I listen to the song I can’t help but be absorbed by the mood of the music video–which is is both mysterious and sexy and incredibly  mischievous, on my opinion. Why don’t you take a look to know exactly what I mean:

However, the case is not always true with the whole Hollywood star-induced MVs. Case in point is the Drew Barrymore directed MV for Best Coast’s “Our Deal”.

I somehow feel like the song doesn’t compliment the video but as most music videos these days or as angry hipsters would react upon reading this position “That’s the point”. Hhhmm come to think about it, I did watch it again before posting it here and well, its starting to grow on me. Or whatever. Now that I think about it, the music video does really add character to a particular song. This of course applies to songs in which I have seen the video with the song first rather than firsthand audio. I’m not saying that the songs above aren’t good enough without the video, I just came with the conclusion that the videos (especially the people in it) adds a little bit more feel to the song. So when I find the time to boot “Go Outside” by the Cults in my iPod, I will not only enjoy the xylophone-ish (am I even correct?) part but the Dave Franco factor that comes along with it.