If time creates memory and memory defines time, where am i?
Am i still in the past when i hope that the good things i have will last?
Or am i now in the present when my future steps in a split second
For sure i’m not yet in the future because i still keep my prayer in my door.
If my past defines my future, where will my present be?
Is it in the middle of the two, a prelude to a future past beyond my grasp?
If my present decides my future, who decides my past?
Wasn’t my past was also once my future in the not so distant present?
Time really confuses me, so i let go of my time. They say spend it wisely.
Does being wise mean you spend your time preparing for your future?
But how can you prepare for your future without neglecting the precious present?
How can you be wise when it goes so quickly?
Good thing i got memories.
But memories belong to the past not the future.
And time moves in a different direction, memory in another.
Time moves forward. Memory relives the past.
I’ll just enjoy the moment. I don’t know how to spend my time wisely.
I’ll just use it.
I was in Vegas when i saw the M & M’s World. I hurriedly went inside and did not let the moment pass without capturing it through my lens as fast as the memories start flashing again.
M&M’s , how would i forget them? They’re the first imported chocolates i’ve tasted.
I remember my excitement everytime my aunt from oregon visit us, bringing loads of chocolates, the first i always grab were these colorful mini chocolates
Although the local brands are superb too, which i always buy in the “sari-sari” store outside our house, i don’t know why at such a young age, i’m partial to imported chocolates.
Not that they taste better, as a child all chocolates taste the same anyway. Perhaps the excitement is due to the fact that when you’re a child, you look forward to the things you don’t usually eat or see around daily.
I only got to eat them everytime a relative from the states would drop by.
Here in the Philippines, We call the United States “states”, and even if some relatives from other place like london, wellington, or sydney would drop us a visit and give us “pasalubongs” (presents), we presumed they are from the states.
So anything “stateside” (or imported) is really appreciated.
Why do i love M&M’s?
First, M & M’s are so colorful.
Imagine seeing assorted colors in tiny bits. I get amazed by its colors. I remember taking each bit out from the pack, put them in my palm, look at it intensely as if i’m scrutinizing an artifact.
Second, you don’t just eat it, you play with it.
I remember us playing M and M’s games. We close our eyes, randomly pick any m &m’s and guess the right color. And if you got it right, you get a bigger share.
I also got excited putting them all in a bowl segregating all the colors and eating them by the color. Mind you, i would even count each color and complain why there are more oranges than reds!
One Christmas day on a family gathering, my cousin devise a game and told us that we would eat M&Ms. She will segregate it by colors on a bowl and each one should eat only the specific color that one randomly pick through the raffle. Whoever got to eat the most number of M & M’s in the shortest span of time wins the game. Everybody agreed, until i protest.
I told her that’s unfair because most of the time, there are more oranges than reds, and more blues than greens.
“How’d you know?” was her response, “I always count them before i eat them.” was my reply.
Suddenly a sudden burst of laughter, i see all of them laughing! What’s wrong with them? I learned to count and learned my first math because of m&m’s.
Humiliated, i ran and hide in the room. I cried and decided not to join the game. There you go, my first ever broken heart, chocolate experience.
You get excited playing games on your own, while eating, guessing what color would come out this time and discovering the last color left in the pack, meaning it’s the winning color for that day. Oh, the simple joys of childhood.
As Forrest Gump would say, “Life is a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
That is so true. Just like life, when you want more reds, life hand you more blues.
And even if you wish that you should have gotten the other color, you still stand up for what you got. Take it. Lick it. Eat it.
And you’ll never know, the next time you pick that bit, you might get what you really want.🙂
Truly life is not life without any kind of love. Life begins with love and ends in love. Romantic love, Family love, self-love, selfish love, selfless love, whatever kind of love that keeps you going.
And love should not always be romantic. Any passion that makes you wake up in the morning with rays of hope is also love.
You may be childless but you can love a child not your own or hate the mess they put you in but still love creating books for them.
How is that possible? I don’t know. All i know is life is full of mysterious things inexplicable by logic such as love. If only i know the answers. Oh, i’d rather keep it that way, after all, Life starts with L for love and learning and ends in letter E for end. Life ends. Love doesn’t.
Life is Learning and Love is encompassing. No wonder both of them have only four letters.
Both words start with L and ends in E. The only difference is the letters in between.
Life has a big If , and if you take away the f, then life becomes a lie,
but love doesn’t include if. No wonder we love without If’s, most of the time i guess.
Love’s in between letters are OV. I can’t think of any words that starts with Ov.
Well, Over? When love is over , one thinks life ends. But that confuses me, if those two in between letters differentiate life from love, then why is the ending the same?
Oh never mind, life is really simple i just make it complicated. So instead of defining life, I’d rather write a poetry.🙂
I was in Marina Bay Sands Skypark enjoying the cool air and the splendid view when i noticed a huge Ferris Wheel standing tall from a distance. So i took a photo, sat on a floor and politely ask a stranger to take my photo with the Ferris Wheel as a backdrop.
The kind stranger told me it’s not a Ferris Wheel, it’s called “The Singapore Flyer.” Thanks for the view and the info, i decided that i won’t leave singapore without trying that ride.
The Singapore Flyer is just a walking distance from the Skypark and for a mere 29 singapore dollars one can already experience the flyer ride. It’s a totally different experience from the skypark as this time it gives you an entirely different view of singapore’s skyline from the moving angles of your flight.
It’s like flying, slowly, vertically and seeing a different perspective on how your surrounding changes depending on how and where you look at. It’s like a ferris wheel ride you experienced during your childhood days but this time it’s more of an awe and less of a scream. One get awed on how a single place can look so different depending on how you are moving.
Just like life, a single moment can have a thousand perspectives depending on how you look at it and the angles of the movement where your sight is leading. There are views that were always there but were overlooked because our vision is just relative to the direction where we are standing. Suddenly the same place looks bigger or smaller as one moves during the ride.
The ride reminds me of a journey, as it moves from top to bottom, you feel a different high when you see the world while you’re on top and feel a willful surrender when you’re at the bottom with high hopes for changes without even knowing that it will always be the same. The only time it will change is when one open his sights to different angles, just like that singapore flyer ride, the views are always there, it’s the ride that changes the view.
I took out my ipad from my bag, took a cupcake bite and did a snapshot of the leftover cookies on the other table left by a stranger.
The cafe attendant perhaps amused by my action approached me and said “Sir you can take a photo of our desserts in the counter for your food blog. ”
I declined and thanked her. I don’t want to offend her feelings. It’s not their products that warrant my ipad lens but those small insects that polarize on those helpless cookies that are really getting my attention.
How in the world can ants suddenly appear in split seconds after the little girl left her cookie?
How fast and smart. They can sense an opportunity a mile away. No different from humans who in a snap of a finger will cling to you acting like a loyal patron and be gone like a total stranger when they find you useless.
They stick with you like ants because you smell so sweet and leave you a bitter taste in the mouth after they’re done with their mission. Just like those fair-weathered friends who are not really fair or should i say not really your friends.
So you look at those ants until they’re gone, inching their way back to their colony serving their queen as you finish your choco float, wipe your lips and keep your remaining cookies.
A spill over on your drinks might tempt them to go back to your table but you don’t really mind this time.
It’s not their fault if you’re careless. You can’t blame them when you left your cookie jar open.
They will always be who they are. Changing colors like a chameleon is their true nature. You can’t really blame them.
After all, ants and humans belong to the same animal kingdom.
Passing by a window display, staring at the faceless mannequin, a sense of wonder touches me. Why most of the time that faceless thing wears an outfit classier than mine.
That awkward moment when it can pull off an outfit better than i can. So i tried to fit in all the sizes, trying so hard to replicate that thing and suddenly end up buying just to boost my self esteem.
That moment when i thought that fashion is all about name and not feelings.
How can a faceless emotionless mannequin tell me what’s good for me and what’s not?
I look into it and i suddenly see myself, a clueless expression covering my real emotions. The inner voice whispering that fashion is you, only if you truly feel it, not how others see you nor on how the trends define you.
Fashion is never wrong. It’s like the clouds that change its shapes and the sky that changes its color. To be engulfed by it is like eating a cake and licking an ice cream.
Some days they’re so sweet, some days you don’t feel it , not because your mood dictates your taste buds but only because you think time is the culprit.
It changes as fast as that ice cream melts long before it touches your lips so you better have it.
So different from Art that time is not a chief antagonist but a friendly ally. Fashion is an art, but art can never be fashion. Art is timeless.
So next time i look at the faceless mannequin and see a beautiful window display, i just smile. I know i will never be Fashion. I will always be an Art.