“Where do I begin,” (that famous line from a familiar song) to tell a story where I’ve been. Been somewhere, anywhere, nope, truthfully nowhere.
Now I don’t know how to start. They say time heals all wounds, and if missing something is a wound, and starting all over again is a form of healing then let me have a thousand scars for although I’m not a masochist, I welcome the pain of waiting. And if somehow one can’t understand what I’m conveying, it’s okay not to be understood once in a while. Why would I expect others to understand if I, myself don’t understand where I’ve been, eventhough I always claimed I know where I’m heading.
Subject verb agreement, punctuation errors and a lot of grammatical lapses. I am not an English writer and it does not pain me when I tender my resignation letter and realized that he’s not reading my letter. Yes, he is not hearing me, he is looking at my letter telling me how in the world can I write a resignation letter with misspelled words and grammatical lapses. That deceitful feeling of finally getting even by giving him a hard time deciphering what I meant when I said I’m leaving. Or is it just the real me when I blabber with incongruent statements because truthfully I am a weird eccentric person who is not good in saying goodbye.
So I closed the door and walked away…. But in no time I’m back in his arms, restartng what could have been, what might have been, what should have been and all those in betweens.
Been There. Done That. How I wish I could truthfully say that. 🙂
Walking in Honolulu, I saw this cute small car that has Hello Kitty prints all over it. Just like anything that reminds me of my childhood days, I didn’t let the moment pass without capturing it through my lens as fast as the memories start flashing again.
I grew up loving San Rio’s Hello Kitty. I remember playing around with my neighbours with this cute little cat stuff.
One sunny morning my boy playmate invited me to his house so we can play around with his new car matchboxes, racing cars in a small make believe paperboard race tracks and to his disappointment I would spend more time with his sisters, not because he is not a fair playmate but simply for the reason I enjoyed tinkering his sisters’ hello kitty pencil cases and stuffed dolls.
I used to think that Hello Kitty is a cat, who wouldn’t? Her name is Kitty, she has whiskers, and she looks like a cat until our neighbour’s guest told us that Hello Kitty is a girl.
What?! All of us refused to believe her until she told us she’ll be back …and yes she did, this time bringing a japanese book, with japanese words printed all over the graphic book.
She said Hello Kitty is not a cat. She is a girl and gave us a ton of reasonings why she can’t be a cat. To our disbelief, we never talk to her since (for a week I think). We never even bothered to play with her again until she brought her older sister and their new huge hello kitty dolls all dressed in pink ribbons.
We all forgive her easily because we can’t help not to touch those cute little ribbons on Kitty’s hair. That’s the good thing being a child, we got hurt easily but we forgive quickly. 🙂
Suffice it to say, she’s right all along. Hello Kitty is not a cat, although we prefer believing she is, just like we believe that Santa Claus lives in the north pole or somewhere in the neverland. Oh, the sweet joys of childhood memories.
I wonder why I have few photos in any shopping malls i’ve been to.
Let me guess. All of them almost look the same? Nope not really. Every shopping mall is distinctive in its own way. Each one has its own unique ambiance and feel.
Now I know why I have such a few shopping mall photos. It’s because i’m not really a shopaholic or a shopping diva. I get an orgasmic feeling (oops, pardon my words) in visiting museums or dropping by in flea markets.
I’m such a cheapskate when it comes to splurge shopping but it doesn’t mean I don’t get excited everytime i hopped in a mall.
It still offers a variety of experience:
– the excitement of letting my fingers run through a mountain of color coded items during the rummage sale and ending up not buying a single thing.
(This is not intentional. I’m not here to give store people a hellish experience. It happened just once, nope, just twice, alright, i admit several times but i do buy when i see something i like.)
– the smile in my face when i see an artful window display.
– the hedonistic pleasure I derived from watching people as I sit on the bench pretending to be waiting for someone when in fact i’m just sitting because i don’t have a single cent to spend on that too good to be true discounted signature items splashed all over the mall.
(Did you see that va vaboom lady carrying a handful of LV’s with her daddy? I’m not being bitter here. Envy is a green eyed monster, jealousy is blue, my eyes are neither of the two)
–and that endless rebuttal with a friend proving my point that yes he is really her daddy, not the kind of thing that causes diabetes. Until someone nearby butts in telling us to mind our own business. Priceless!
(Look who’s talking, unwanted eavesdropper, if only I could tell her to mind her own business too.)
There are things that money can’t buy. Cliche as it may sound, the best things in life are still free.
It’s been a year since i last blow my birthday candle and how time flies. The candle of hope for a bright tomorrow lighting up my birthday wishes.
I just celebrated my birthday two days ago. Yes, i’m a year older and wiser yet i have the same birthday prayers and wishes as always.
I wish that my family will be bless all year through with good health. I wish that my parents live long enough to see their great grandchildren. I wish that my brother and my sister in law to be always in good shape so they can hug their grandchildren. I wish that my nephews and niece to be always safe and healthy so they can live a full life and achieve their dreams. And of course i wish to live happily ever after. 😉
I don’t know why, but through the years it seems like a personal tradition to slice my birthday cake and blow the candles.
I don’t really need to blow the candle this time. All i need is to close my eyes and feel the light, be grateful for the treasures that i have, a great loving family i am so blessed to be with.
And when my birthday celebration has died down and everyone is done with their birthday greetings. I look at the leftover of my birthday cake with the missing candle, this time wishing something else not just for myself.
I wish that the missing candle will always serve as light. Light when the world feel a certain darkness.
I have never imagine that i would be wishing something for the world on my birthday. My birthday wishes are always for myself and my family. But this time as i look at the world around me, my country and what’s happening beyond it, i wish for that two words that seem memorable only to beauty pageant patties…… world peace.
Yes, i wish for world peace. And i truly mean it.
Not only the kind of peace without gunfires and battles. But also the inner peace that comes within everyone. To be more kind and be more accepting of other people’s shortcomings and mistakes.
To win the battle against racism and bigotry. To be more open minded towards other people’s differences and culture. To be more understanding of other people’s religious beliefs. To be the candle that lights a dark path and show that even when the candle’s light was blown off, the splintered remaining wax will serve as a reminder that nothing in life was ever lost or wasted if it serves its purpose.
I know blowing the birthday candles doesn’t mean all dreams will be fulfilled, all wishes will come true.
Life isn’t a fairy tale. There’s more to life than my birthday wishes. And yes, sometimes wishes still ensnare me.
Dropping by at an art exhibit , i happened to see a cartoon artist. For a few dollars he’ll create your cartoon portrait.
Suddenly confusion, illusion or simply wild imagination made me think. If i will spend a few dollars, why would i need a sketch of my face? I have tons of photos on my facebook anyway. Besides, i can always look at the mirror and create a better portrait of myself, anytime for free , although sometimes looking at the mirror doesn’t lead to happy endings. 🙂
So i rather spend that moment fulfilling a life long childhood dream……. to be one of those fairy tale divas.
Once again in my adult life i’m faced with a million dollar question:
If i could be a fairy tale character, who would i be?
Cinderella? Nope, i had a very happy childhood.
Sleeping Beauty? Hmm, true love kiss and a prince, almost , but my dad is not a wicked king. .
Okay, let’s try Snow White, but i don’t have a wicked stepmother.
Aha, since i consider myself beautiful, why not Belle in Beauty and The Beast?
I saw a photo on my friend’s facebook page. In a split second I asked her if I can steal it. Well, that’s hyperbole but truthfully, this wonderful scenery stole my heart away. So i make a colorful collage out of that photo as i glanced at that beautiful scenery , an inspiration to create a wonderful poetry.
As she was driving on Vancouver highway on a beautiful Sunday morning, this scene didn’t escape her sight. She instantly grab her phone and captured the scene.
Beautiful. How a simple photo can change someone’s day. It made her stop and made me smile. Life is beautiful . We just have to appreciate it.
Driving on life’s busy highway, obstructions sometimes give in. Preoccupied with so many things to do, so many goals to achieve and dreams to fulfill, we forgot to see the sky and just view the road within.
The changing colors of your sky depending on the season of your life. Sometimes nature brings out its natural colors but most of the time it changes depending on the bifocals of your sights..
The sky being blue when your heart is in raging red. The pastel colors that you see when someone tickles you in pink. Or is it being green when you recall that moment on that cold mountain spring?
The northern lights that never cease to amaze you, just like that love that always puzzles you.
The hues you’ll never knew unless you’ve got the courage to try something new.
So what is the color of your sky? The color that you’ll always see , as you paint it the way you feel 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 and 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’m 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. 🙂