Ambitious Aspirations of a Jelly Bean
By : Michael Cottle
A whisper of a summer’s day so long ago. So far away in time, that time dragged through each day that seemed unending. Before the world begin to spin so fast, and there were stacks of vinyl records to spin around one at a time. The crisp and the crackle of the needle running through them and sounding out timeless music. Music we thought would last forever, but now just a musty smell seems to bring back a memory. And then, just like that, those days are gone.
The world turns fast now. To catch a moment, to catch a breath? Elusive! Evasive!
I stare at a jar of jelly beans. The colors are vivid, but my eyes blur, and the colors swirl. I catch my gaze from its tangent into oblivion and re-focus clear. They are life itself. Different and they are all the same. Sweet and gummy. Sometimes, there is a nasty root beer flavor. I wonder how fast the clouds pass to a jelly bean. Does the speed ever change?
I see myself as a jelly bean. A red one- definitely not root beer. Possibly a blue one. Not yellow or green. And sometimes, late at night, I see life has trapped me in the jar. Along with all of the other colors- even the annoying root beer flavors of which I hate. I dream of freedom. Think of it often. What it means. What it could mean. And then I see work is waiting for me. And I must return. If I am to buy my freedom, then I must work for it. And I realize this is why the clouds pass by so quickly.
It is a choice I suppose. I consider the alternatives -a way to escape the jar. I find being content simply by finding smaller escapes. Escapes within the mind. Something fun. Something creative. Perhaps it is the jar that fuels the imagination. And sometimes, even the fuel seems to run dry. That is scary.
For if we are not creative, then what are we? Another 1 in billions and billions. Another unique shuffle never to be played again. And then I wonder just how big this universe is anyway. Is it big enough to have Deja vu? I don’t think so. I know it isn’t.
A whisper of a summer’s day so long ago. An old familiar song plays somewhere in the background. The smell of summer, fresh in the mind. A trapped jelly bean in a jar, a jar which is acting as a catalyst for inspiration, creativity, and a desire to be the best red or blue jelly bean that a jelly bean can be.
Never a green. Never a root beer. Because root beer jelly beans suck.
By : Michael Cottle
A whisper of a summer’s day so long ago. So far away in time, that time dragged through each day that seemed unending. Before the world begin to spin so fast, and there were stacks of vinyl records to spin around one at a time. The crisp and the crackle of the needle running through them and sounding out timeless music. Music we thought would last forever, but now just a musty smell seems to bring back a memory. And then, just like that, those days are gone.
The world turns fast now. To catch a moment, to catch a breath? Elusive! Evasive!
I stare at a jar of jelly beans. The colors are vivid, but my eyes blur, and the colors swirl. I catch my gaze from its tangent into oblivion and re-focus clear. They are life itself. Different and they are all the same. Sweet and gummy. Sometimes, there is a nasty root beer flavor. I wonder how fast the clouds pass to a jelly bean. Does the speed ever change?
I see myself as a jelly bean. A red one- definitely not root beer. Possibly a blue one. Not yellow or green. And sometimes, late at night, I see life has trapped me in the jar. Along with all of the other colors- even the annoying root beer flavors of which I hate. I dream of freedom. Think of it often. What it means. What it could mean. And then I see work is waiting for me. And I must return. If I am to buy my freedom, then I must work for it. And I realize this is why the clouds pass by so quickly.
It is a choice I suppose. I consider the alternatives -a way to escape the jar. I find being content simply by finding smaller escapes. Escapes within the mind. Something fun. Something creative. Perhaps it is the jar that fuels the imagination. And sometimes, even the fuel seems to run dry. That is scary.
For if we are not creative, then what are we? Another 1 in billions and billions. Another unique shuffle never to be played again. And then I wonder just how big this universe is anyway. Is it big enough to have Deja vu? I don’t think so. I know it isn’t.
A whisper of a summer’s day so long ago. An old familiar song plays somewhere in the background. The smell of summer, fresh in the mind. A trapped jelly bean in a jar, a jar which is acting as a catalyst for inspiration, creativity, and a desire to be the best red or blue jelly bean that a jelly bean can be.
Never a green. Never a root beer. Because root beer jelly beans suck.