am sick and all i can think about is inch-thick pancakes with raspberries and blueberries, drizzled with copious amounts of maple syrup served on a big white plate with a tall glass of orange juice, for Sunday brunch?!?!
and there wasn't any mix at home nor can i be bothered to make anything from scratch, or for that matter can anyone be bothered to make anything for me...so i proceeded to make kaya toast instead..close as it can get i suppose and plonk myself in front of the food channel.
see i believe than when the food you have sucks, have a craving for good food or when home food isn't all that tasty to say the least, take your mish-mash and watch the food channel. And i tell you it tastes much better, just imagine your eating what's on TV. Essentially its food porn. this trick has gotten me through a few gastronomically unpleasant days.
Why can't there be IHOP in spore :(
*pancakes...pancakes..* *Double Blueberry! Butterscotch Rocks!*
*sniffles*
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
popcorn anyone?
the reader and benjamin buttn got me thinking about a few things. one thing that tugged at them strings was the concept of enduring love or enduring pain? whichever side of the fence that you wish to plonk urself on. how is it that some people are that you meet at a certain point of time, albeit briefly, leave such an indelible impression for that moment that you carry them throughout life's journey. the tears wellled up in ralph fiennes' eyes when asked by the holocast survivor regarding his relation to winslet's character needed no explanation at all. And for that brief moment you could see all the pain of the past joy (in a brief summer) encapsulated in that silence.
how we fall and let ourselves fall knowing the self-destructible outcomes is the risk of leaping on faith's pitch. so we learn and break, produce a generation of cynics, who wedge distance between selves, fail to believe in happy endings, who remain guarded.
some say that its not enduring love but being in love with the person/situation in past memory, not the present or the possible future; or another view is holding on to the pain, an addiction to pain that you indulge yourself in; or maybe its just a soft spot moulded in a context of that time. whatever it is, it is amazing how an indelible impression formed through unrivalled chemistry is cast upon heartsleeves, will never be replicated but instead used as benchmarks that automatically fails those subsequently. we know we should'nt but we do it don't we?
the stories reflect how people reassume their past roles, their past selves in relation to each other. and at the points of revisiting these selves, we catch on from what was left behind, cut off, fumbled through, hastily forgotten and never realised.
we can go round in circles, looking for answers, favourable outcomes, plausible explanations but some things we have no control over, some things we can't force, yet it is all these things that matter. so we resume our journeys trying to catch ourselves every now and again when we falter or know that we can't trust ourselves from refraining.
it may be a cliche that life is neither white or black but shades of grey, which is exactly why we treck the troughs of the headaches, heartaches and injustices. for there will be peaks, however brief they may be, we can only be glad/grateful to have had those moments and that those special people shared a good part of themselves with us.
how we fall and let ourselves fall knowing the self-destructible outcomes is the risk of leaping on faith's pitch. so we learn and break, produce a generation of cynics, who wedge distance between selves, fail to believe in happy endings, who remain guarded.
some say that its not enduring love but being in love with the person/situation in past memory, not the present or the possible future; or another view is holding on to the pain, an addiction to pain that you indulge yourself in; or maybe its just a soft spot moulded in a context of that time. whatever it is, it is amazing how an indelible impression formed through unrivalled chemistry is cast upon heartsleeves, will never be replicated but instead used as benchmarks that automatically fails those subsequently. we know we should'nt but we do it don't we?
the stories reflect how people reassume their past roles, their past selves in relation to each other. and at the points of revisiting these selves, we catch on from what was left behind, cut off, fumbled through, hastily forgotten and never realised.
we can go round in circles, looking for answers, favourable outcomes, plausible explanations but some things we have no control over, some things we can't force, yet it is all these things that matter. so we resume our journeys trying to catch ourselves every now and again when we falter or know that we can't trust ourselves from refraining.
it may be a cliche that life is neither white or black but shades of grey, which is exactly why we treck the troughs of the headaches, heartaches and injustices. for there will be peaks, however brief they may be, we can only be glad/grateful to have had those moments and that those special people shared a good part of themselves with us.
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