Lingered;Silence gets a website!

I'm so proud to declare that this blog has grown over the years.  It is filled with memories, both bad and good, and also the sour ones. It started small but I believed in those years back, I would come back here and write out my life however way I spend my time in the real world. Right now, this blog has captured some bittersweet memories of my life in words if not pictures.

    I had thought of getting a website of my own for a long time and blogspot has hooked me because of it's simplicity and also because it's free. I learned how to make things look a little bit more beautiful but God knows I'm not a very good stylist. At most, I can just alter the theme to my liking as you can see with the blog. But then I learned how to do things as I go along.

    Now, I don't want to post a lot of stuff. It's morning and I am not a morning person. Seeing as how the blog has grown, I've decided to give it a full website. I had a lot of time to choose my hosting site, my domain name and the price that goes with it. I've decided to go with Arvixe, as it's like one of the hosting sites that I can pay monthly instead of yearly, or two yearly as I don't really like to pay a huge sum of money at the first turn. As of now, every month I would have to pay around $7 or RM25 for the hosting site. The longer the duration of your service for single payment, the lower the rate goes. I would only have to pay $3.5 or RM12 - RM 15 if I would pa for a yearly duration but it all amounts up to $96 or RM300. So, that kind of money would save me for the long run but for now, I would just like to mess around with the site first.

    On the other hand, the host also gives me unlimited space, bandwidth and also a free domain for life as long as my subscription is renewed. So, I guess that gives me the best value for each dollar I give them. Also, they give a lot of options too. I decided to go with Joomla! not only because its what supervisor has told me to study about but based on the review I read, Joomla requires a bit of development knowledge and more customization than Wordpress. I think that suits me the best.

    So, there you go. This blog will still be here but for now, the official site will be

lingeredsilence.com

   As of now, it's still in development (nothing posted yet, I'm still tweaking with the settings) but in the future I hope I can make it beautiful and a place where a lot of people can read my work and offer me comments and criticism. 

    Oh yeah. Anything produced in that site, or by me, will now be called a Lingered;Silence Production. I doubt that there's anyone else with that name but hey, if you do, just tell me and I could change it to something else.

    Also, I've been thinking about a logo for the website and also for me. I know for Silence that it has something to do with papers and serenity but for me? I don't know.

    This isn't a story but just a notification.

    I've been looking at recording software available out there.  I've been trying to get information on which one is the best, if it's free and have good quality, even better. Some applications, such as FRAPS and D3D, have a trial account but very limited to it's functions.  FRAPS trial can only record for 30 seconds and I haven't dare to try D3D yet because of the huge download size. So far, the one that I can take into consideration is OBS, Open Broadcaster Software.

    OBS sounds like a streaming software, for things like Twitch I would guess? But it has a recording option, and so far it has worked good. But I haven't try it yet in a real gaming environment. OBS is open source, meaning the source codes are available to anyone for any customization. But OBS is also of mediocre quality, meaning the interface is good, the output file is good, everything seems to be in order. A lot of people seems to use it, some professionals use it too.

    I'm just typing this down here so that in the future, if my older self ever try to take up this thing again, he would know that OBS had been his first choice.

    I'm trying to record something, something simple to begin with (it can even record the monitor, for example) but I want try it on a heavy gaming environment like FFXIV so that I can know if my laptop can handle it.

    Even if it's just i7 3rd gen, with GT635m, not even GT680 or something, I think my laptop can record it.  The one that I'm worried about is compiling.  I've tried once before. The compilation took well over 2 hours for a video of some ~100MB size.

    

It isn't about doing something all over again that makes it boring.

It's the feeling that you have done it again successfully where you think you're going to fail again.

I get jealous when I see people hanging out with lots of people around them, their faces smiling with friends surrounding. Happy faces enjoying the day, their social life so full of life and happiness.

Meanwhile, I'm in my room working my ass off to get my Zodiac Zeta. Three more mahatmas and I get it. In Eorzea, I am a Warrior of Light, and also a female. But genders don't really matter ingame as far as look go and in the end, what matters in there is how much you swing your axe, where you hit it, and of course... how you hit it.

This is a rant.

Social life is not one of my strongest points. Talking to strangers is never one of my strongest points. Sure, I can answer you if you ask me for directions and I know the way but if you expect me to take pictures of a friend's gathering, hanging out together in social places, you're going to be sorely disappointed. There are times when I feel I should change this, but then talking isn't just one of my strength. 

Some people I know, hell a lot of people I know, not necessarily acquiantance or friends, they are easily likable by the masses. They are an attraction by themselves. If you hold a party or some sort of plan, that guy has to be there or the whole thing feels unfinished and not merry. I envy these people because they are talkative, smart, friendly and overall a very comfortable person to be with. 

And of course they are people like me. Other people avoid me. They'd rather not go out of their way to interact with me because of unknown reasons. Some obvious ones are actually quite, well, obvious. I don't talk much. I answer either yes or no. I rarely bring up any personal stuff like, what did you eat yesterday or what are you going to do in the holidays. When I do, it feels too awkward for me and the person and I just stop. Sure, I can hold a conversation about say, studies, some stuff that the person and I find interesting together or say, you want to talk to me about this project. I can do that, no problem. But beyond that professional barrier, I'm as talkative as a tree.

But being this person and looking at the opposite side of my own attributes, I can see that some of us are just meant to be the merry man and some are just meant to sit there and be quiet. Because deep down, I know that I have a lot of weaknesses and my strengths aren't what you would call something that you can pinpoint the first moment you see me. They are people out there that if you meet once, you feel happy with him or her because they keep you being merry and they are people who you need to get to know very well in order to see what he's really like. 

I'm sure that each of us turn out like what we are not just because of our upbringing, some people had advantages talking to more important people to boost their self-esteem, but also because we are who we are. We are meant to be like this, and if you can't hold a conversation too long or you are just too shy becoming someone you like to be, that is because we are who we are. Self-esteem aside, shy people has got enough confidence to be in conversation but our answers will be short and to the point. 

If you ask me what I did yesterday, I would say the usual stuff. Exactly those words, yes.

If you ask some of my merry acquaintance, expect to add a friend to your friend list.

What I want to say is, I've been in a lot of groups, both offline and online, and although some members of the groups are people who would brighten up the day, there are those who sit in the middle and prefer to be quiet.

We aren't shy. We are just quiet. 

Short story

    One day a farmer shows up at the market. He was carrying some vegetables, a couple of chickens in a locked container, and a big clay pot filled with white milk. He set his stall in a seemingly peaceful corner and began to spread a cloth on the ground to put up his wares. After done so, he sat back and began to cry out towards the milling crowd.

    The wares that he was selling was decently priced and the vegetables look fresh, albeit looks quite weary from the travel and the warm weather. But they look better than some stalls located near. The milk was not sour and was sold for a price per cup. The chickens were the priciest of them all but not the most expensive in the market. The farmer makes full profit from all of this. He cried out more for the crowds to buy his wares.

    Then, a woman came with her husband trailing behind. The woman was decently dressed like a villager, came to the central city for the market. The husband was gloomy faced and looked weary from all the walking. The woman asked the farmer about the wares with a stern face. The farmer smiled and told her the prices. A shilling for a full basket of vegetables, a shilling and a half for a full chicken, slaughtered or not, and 3 pence for a cup of milk. The woman frowned and said that the vegetables were too steeply priced and walked off, with the husband behind.

    The farmer was confused at this. A whole basket of vegetables is a lot of vegetables. But maybe the woman was right. He looked at the wares and saw that some of them have begun to look not so very fresh. He decided to lower the price per basket to half a shilling, or 5 pence. He began to rearrange the vegetables so that the crowd would see the fresher ones above.

    After that, a man garbed in expensive clothes came to his stall. Behind him, a servant garbed in a black suit followed with his head bowed. The farmer thought that he was a merchant by the looks of him. The merchant leaned forward and inspected the chickens. He asked the price for one full chicken. The farmer said it was a shilling and a half for one. The merchant looked stunned at this and began to beckon to his servant. The servant folded out a piece of yellow paper and showed it to the merchant. He inspected it thoroughly with sharp eyes. Then he fished out a big purse and took out 6 shillings. The man said that he would buy 4 chickens. The farmer agreed on that and asked if he wanted them slaughtered. The merchant replied no and he wanted them fresh. The farmer agreed and gave the merchant the chickens in another container with 6 shillings in hand.

    When the merchant went off though, he could hear his loud whisper that the chickens were nice and healthy but to sell at one and a half shilling is either foolishness or the man knows not of trading for profits. The farmer was confused at this. He looked at the shillings and then at the chickens. The chickens clucked. He thought that the price was already steep but he guessed that the chickens were quite healthy. He fed them everyday and take good care of them. He pushed the shillings into his pocket and decided the next time someone asked, the chickens would be 2 shillings.

    Just after that thought, an old woman appeared. She was in rags and a pair of kids trailed behind her, looking just as dirty and ragged. The woman looked at the vegetables longingly and asked the farmer what was the price for them. The farmer took pity on them and said, it only costs 1 pence for half a basket. The woman frowned. Then she saw the big pot. She asked how much is the milk for a cup? The farmer said it was 3 pence for a cup. The beggar woman frowned again. Then one of the kids pulled onto her dirty sleeve and asked if they are going to eat anything today. The farmer fought back his tears and took up a basket, filled it with some of the fresh vegetables and handed it to the beggar woman. The woman was shocked and refused to take it because they had no money to pay for them. The farmer said it wasn't a purchase, it was a gift. The woman wiped away some tears in her eyes and took it with a thousand thank yous trailing behind.

    After the woman went away, the previous village woman came back. This time the farmer saw that the still gloomy husband was carrying a basket full of food and vegetables with some jars of milk. The village woman saw the beggar walked away with a basket full of fresh vegetables and demanded the farmer the price he sold her those food. The farmer said they were free and a gift to the old lady. The village woman turned red and demanded he should do the same to her because she was a hard woman too in a hard life! But when she saw only the wilted vegetables are left, she changed her mind and demanded a "gift" in the form of 5 cups of free milk. The farmer was shocked. The woman pushed him even more while her husband struggled to keep straight from the weight of the filled basket.

    At that moment, the merchant from before came but his servant wasn't there. Instead, trailing behind him like a herd of sheep were several other better clothed men and women. They were other merchants as well and silk draped over some of their clothes. The merchant ignored the angry woman and stood before the farmer. He asked how much does he sell the chickens. This time, the farmer said it was 2 shillings per chicken. The merchant was taken a aback. He said to the farmer that the chickens were cheaper when he bought them. The farmer said that the chickens were healthy and fine so he decided to increase the price. The merchant fumed and turned towards his other colleagues. They was a heated discussion and then the merchant turned towards him again. He said if he decreases the price to 1 shilling, he will take all of the chickens at that moment. The other merchants agreed, nodding their heads behind him.

    Meanwhile, the woman was chucking her waist and demanded that she should be given those milk because of her hard life. The farmer said that she looked quite well considering she already has a lot of food. The woman said that the food was her provision for the entire week and it will be hard for the rest of the month. The merchant looked at the woman below his nose and snorted, mumbling about poor management and servant life. Luckily the woman was so angry she didn't hear it. The merchant demanded again about the chickens and this time said that if he doesn't decrease the price, he would not be allowed at the market anymore, with a smirk on his face. The farmer gulped down and said to the merchant that he won't be making any profit if that's the case.

    The merchant retaliated that he is a farmer. For a farmer to live, he doesn't need that much profit now does he? The farmer thought that yes, he didn't really need all that much money. All he had is a small little farmland and a healthy wife back home. Who needs more than that? But they could use a new barn, this old one looked like it would be torn off if there's a few strong gusts and they could use a proper feather bed. His back aches whenever he got up from his hay bed. And he knows that his wife doesn't really like it either. So, he said to the merchant that he can buy them at the normal price of 1 and a half shilling. The merchant thought about this and slightly turned towards his colleagues. They nodded a bit and the merchant smiled and said deal.

    So the merchant and his herd of little human sheep walked away happily with a couple of chickens. The farmer pushed 6 more shillings down his pocket and faced the angry woman. The woman demanded once more for free milk but this time she added that for making her wait, he would have to give the rest of the vegetables too! The farmer sighed and said that he would sell the milk for 1 pence a cup and the vegetables are free for her. After all, the vegetables looked bad now. The woman said the milk will have to be free as well or she would complain to the merchants guild and he would be kicked from the market. The farmer sighed and gave up. He took 5 cups of milk and gave it to her and the rest of the vegetables were quickly put on top of the over-encumbered basket. After that she stormed off without a word.

    In the end, the farmer turned towards the rest of the milk in the pot. There was only a quarter left and decided that it would serve for tonight's drink. He turned towards the cow, unhooked it and walked off towards his home. On the way back, he counted that he made 12 shillings today. If he had sold for the price he decided, his profit would be about 16 shillings. The profit today would be used for his home maintanence and if there's any left, he would buy some much-needed blankets, thin as they would come. He sighed and decided that the next time he wanted to give something for free, or bargain for something, he would have to be prepared that some would take advantage of it.

Moral of the story: You can't make everyone happy. If you do, you won't be.

My own website

This internship thingy isn't as I expected it to be.

But don't get me wrong, I am learning a lot and as far as experience go, I definitely get the feel of how a man with a wage work. I don't like one bit of it.

But a wage would say, especially to the womenfolk, "This man has an assured source of money, however it would turn out," and that generally would give her a sense of confidence in the man in that the man can actually float the family up even when they are down. Money would be there all the time. And if it's not, we'll just wait for the end of the month.

She would like that, of course anyone would like that. You go to your office, sit around, do you work or something and then at the end of the month, get a sum of money. Sometimes, you get lots of work, sometimes you're out of it but your company would always pay you at the end of the month. Sounds like a paradise, right?

Unfortunately, it would also mean all you do all weekdays is get up, go to work, get back home, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Hell. That sounds like hell. A lot of men who work like this, I don't know about them, but I don't like the sound of a grey office and do some kind of work all day long and nothing else. I want freedom. Hell, I want it the way it was. Writing my own stories, trying to figure out things, be creative within my own mind, typing my feelings into paper; I don't see any of this currently in the position that I am. It sucks.

But really. What I want doesn't always mean what the people around me needs. It's always something else, something completely different that they need. They need money for food to feed mouths, they need money to buy things that they need and I don't disagree with them but writing stories is like trying to hit a jackpot. It's either your book sell or it would just turn out to be lump of shit. Either way, yes, if some people would buy your book from a bookstore or somewhere, you'll get a percentage of it and that's your wage. Sometimes it would be just a couple of hundreds, sometimes thousands but authors who have made it to the top gets millions just by typing words. Albeit, organized words but that really sounds like my kind of job.

It all comes down to money. Designing websites, networking, hammering down on a piece of metal, writing stories; these jobs are equally hard work. It's just that some people would actually like to do some of these jobs. And that's when the magic happens.

Anyways, this is just a test to see how blogspot handles posts. My assignment goes about something like a portal kind of thing that displays news, and other functions. While I only have the basic understanding and practical knowledge of web programming, I am learning a lot. It's fun when you figure something out and it works in the end. Kind of like writing a story. You figure out how to do it and how it would look and if you run into a problem, you think of ideas on how to get around it, patch that hole up. When you finally get it, you get this sense of satisfaction.

I don't see any of that in this paperwork thing. It's all just stress all around.

If anyone of you

Says that education is not important and test results are useles,

Think again, man.

How do you measure the worth of 2000 individuals without taking 2000 hours in your life? Even if given 1 hour for each student in a school, you cannot know a person's true worth by interviewing him for that period of time.

So they come up with standardized syllabus and skills for you to learn. And when the time comes, those syllabus and skills are tested on a piece of paper that are then marked according to what the syllabus has told.

Some of you are saying, "It's all memorization and not a single piece of critical thinking is needed!" Well, I say if you do say that, you have to accept that there IS a test out there that are all critical thinking and if you do not pass even that, you would say, "It's all critical thinking and not a single piece of WHAT I LEARNT IN SCHOOL IS NEEDED!"

Sorry to say to you guys, but schools are important. They keep us in line of what is needed for the foundation of the world, i.e. Knowledge.

Some of you would say you wouldn't use Pythagoras' theory ever in real life, but some of us build buildings that require that exact theory and we are the ones who make homes for you guys.

Next time, when you say what you learnt in school isn't real life, look to your smart phones, your homes, the plane that you're about to board, the inhaler that you use, the computer that you type on, the straw that you used to drink. These things are made by people who went to school and gotten the same knowledge that you are now learning or have learnt.

Respect knowledge.

100 posts GET and I missed it.

So, this is the 102nd post ever on this blog.

The 100th post was the Atlantica.

Woo! Yeah! This would be so cool and memorable if anyone ever read this!

I love you, Rabbia! Besides, you're the only one who read these things anyway...

I love you so much...

Dare I say that I didn't think this blog would hold until now....

And dare I say, from the first post there is, I can even see where I started from. And here I am. Doesn't feel like that much change but nevertheless

100 posts reached! Yay!

Tattered dreams, Old clarity

    "Do this anymore and you're asking for hell," the man in black said with a threatening voice, his face hidden by the car window, slightly lowered down only to uncover his spectacled eyes. The eyes behind those glasses were old and worn but they are still full of vitality and a keen sense of instincts has flared more than anyone in them. They left scars that cannot be seen by the eyes alone.
    "That's exactly what I'm doing, old man. I'm looking for Hell. He hasn't been answering these days, so I come knocking up on his door, just telling him I'm still alive," a voice beneath the blanket of rain came from the alley opposite the car.  Through the hammering of the rain, the voice still hold its volume and a sinister grin appears with the sentences, a mirth that hasn't been unleashed but held on so tightly, the air vibrates. "Why don't you go up to that big old place and wait for me. I'll be your undertaker soon enough. Old. Man."
    The eyes in the car stared long and hard in the blank space where the voice originated from. He looked on as if waiting for the inevatable to occur but the happenings are far from his days. The eyes took on a menacing glare, a lion ready to pounce on his prey without any mercy. But this prey, it had something special. His preys are always helpless and by the time they realize he has his teeth around their throats, they begged for life and refused to die. But a prey is a prey, one way or the other. The teeth do not unclench when blood clench his thirst.
    The rain fell down on the tin roofs, the sounds enveloped anything but anyone who walked by can feel the tingly sensation in the air. Two mighty beings are on their edge, their swords ready to be sheathed in seconds and the fight enveloped soon will tell who will be the conquer of the other. Neither side wants to be defeated and both seem ready to die to fight for his cause. The subjugation of the other.
    "Last warning. You do that one more time and I'll-"
    "Kill me? You know it doesn't work that way, old man."
    "Do you mind if an old man wants to finish his sentences once in a while?"
    "Of course. I'd give you an apology but I'm all out of it, since you're the one who took them all anyways."
    "Stay down. And maybe this whole place will give you another chance to live."
    The window rolled up and two lights punctured through the veil of rain. An engine roared and the car disappeared down the road. There was no numbered plate, and the model was absolutely non-existent. That car was wrought from the it's rightful owners and it stayed there like an old pair of socks. Anybody who saw it would shy away, making way for it, knowing who the owner is and the power he holds. But that power will be taken over, one way or the other. This day or the next.
    The sinister smile in the alley turned into a grimace of tightly coiled whip, readied to the fullest extent to be released. It leaves a good enough bad vibe to the whole place that anyone would avoid it. In the dark, a tattered and worned rag of clothes started to move. It tried to stand but it's thin legs tripped and the face end feel down in a heap. An arm appeared, pushing the body up. It trembles, trying to push against it's own weight. It managed to get to its knees when the body suddenly hunched up and heaved. The remains of food in it's belly was gone in an instant. It pushed more with it's frail legs, trying it's hardest to stand it's tallest, to stand ready.
    "I'll be damned if something like you or this place takes me over. I'd go to hell and come back with souvenirs to give out to you guys first," it said with a shaking voice. It wiped his mouth with an already dirty rag, as the rain poured down it's face. A black eye peered through the filthy long hair. The area around it was swollen. The colour of the eye was deep brown, and bags of unslept nights weighed it down. There was fire in it, a fire that has burned as long as it has breathed on this earth. It wasn't large but it was fierce enough to burn whoever gets too close to douse it out. Even the world would feel it's wrath one day.
    It smiled, remembering one fine night when the same old man came up to it, in a corner. After certain events, it would be the most ironic in this scene. The same old man who had threatened him far worse than death, had used to comfort him. A filthy piece of rag and a bundle of loose muscles was what the old man tried to give life to. He succeeded but what came forth from the womb was not what the old man intended to be. He came to it's ears and said those words that left a permanent scar on it's tired and still beating heart.
    "One day, Hell does not come up to you. It will be too scared of you to get close. When that happens, you're the one who will chase it down. One day, you will look for Hell."
    It's shoulders shook while pieces of laughter got up to his throat, trying to escape. The sheer craziness seeped out of those eyes and the whole scene stared at it, either with pity or outright repulse. It clutched its face, trying to stop the insanity and hold down his minds to it's roots. The shoulders heaved once but this time, nothing came out. There was nothing to get out anymore. Only emptiness and a burning feeling, making crisps of the mind that it's feeding on, remain. The rags and clothes tried to stand upright, but even in that endeavor it failed. Suddenly, that burning feeling gave off a familiar smell. A keen and lofty smell that filled it's nose. It knew how to be angry.
    "You haven't seen the last of me," it whispered to the world. "Hell belongs to me."
    With that, the rain poured even harder than before. The tattered piece of rags and clothes disappeared behind the curtain. Walking with a defeated aura, but looking forward for another fight. It would not give up, even when the world batter him down. It would stand, and look forward.

Atlantica - Dream of Illusion

    There were images in my head. Images stuck inside. There were screaming and blacked up images of human sized people running away from something. The monument that was toppling on top of me suddenly rose out of its roots, the statues' hands reached out to the sky and away from me. I felt a surge of air whistling around my ears, and my body weightless. I was falling. I was waiting for the hard earth to hit my back and break every single piece of my bones.

    Then I woke up. My eyes darted here and there, searching, wondering what happened. The monument was gone, the sensation of falling was gone and somehow I don't even know what's actually me. I tried to move my fingers, one by one. As I tried to get up, my head shot a pain throughout my skull. I clutched it, massaging my temples. Then I realized the lights that I was seeing before this aren't from a sun. There were from the crystals around me.

     Pushing my legs up, trying not to feel the spell on my head, I looked around. Tattered clothes hang on my back, and the lower thigh of my leather pants are gone, as if ripped. I massaged my neck, trying to remember what happened. But the pain of dizziness was in the way. My throat longs for water but my stomach swirled at the mention of food. I can't remember my name.

    There was nothing else but to look around this place. It looked like a cave, filled with big crystals that emit light. It hurts to look at them directly. My legs move on their own as I tried to remember a single piece of memory of my life. Not even a single trickle remains in it. There was a gaping hole that is used to be filled with life. I can't remember my name.

    There was no other way but to go forward. If this is a cave, then there must be an exit somewhere. It's just hard to find the real light from the sun when there's so much light from the crystals. The spell shot another hard pain throughout my head and I stumbled, caught my hand on one of the crystals. They felt like glass. Shining glass that fills my hand. It wasn't warm or cold, it felt unreal. Then I looked up and saw the big arch.

    It's a portal. I don't know how I know but in my heart I realize I am looking at a portal. We used to have that everywhere in... We used to travel around in... The portal was the one method we used to travel in... I can't remember. We? Who are we? I shook my head a little, shaking off sweat eminating from my forehead. I realize that I was actually cold. A pleasant cool around my skin. But that too felt so wrapped up. There was no other way to explain it. It was as if the cool was transplant into my brain directly and not through my skin.

    I walk up to the portal. Every portal has a lock. Like a door, every portal needs a key to open it. Usually, there was someone who's in charge of the key but not now. I looked around the big arch, searching for the little key. I couldn't find it. The owner of this portal must've have it with him. I don't know. I looked up the big arch, leaned on it, hoping there was a way out of this. At that moment, the arch move away from each other. I gasped and walked away. This isn't an ordinary portal.

    A swirling smoke came out of the middle of the arch, small at first but soon it was as big as the arches could hold it. I expected something more. In my head, I knew there had to be more. There were supposed to be an image, a clear path that shows where the portal goes. Like a door that opens up to somewhere, a portal does the same. But the swirling went on and on. I sighed and that's when another surprise hit me.

    The portals emitted light that combined themselves into words. Words that I know and yet not know at the same time. I could read it but I do not recognize the smooth edges of the words nor the pointy vertices of them. The message was direct, surprisingly. It was as if someone left it there for me. And he knew someone would come read it and made it simple. I don't know.

To you I send this message,

For I am the owner,

The key lies with the beast,

that flows with wings of dark.

Find three of them,

Kill three of them,

And the light shall be shown.

     There was only one creature that can fly in a cave. The bats. But with this much light around, I could not tell if any bats live here. Besides, how am I going to catch these bats? I do not even have a weapon. And why does this person torment me so? If he wanted to help, he would've just left the key where it is. No. There must be a way. But I need a weapon.

    My eyes caught a glint behind the arches. I walked up to see what it was. The owner did think of everything through. There was a sword, a sizeable one, with the point plunged into the ground. I took hold of it and pulled it out. Instantly, the cave went dark as night. I backed up against the wall, shocked, and ready my stance. I do not even know how to use this weapon. Or do I?

    Suddenly, there was chittering. I could feel the flow of air around my skin, and this is real as it can be. Light suddenly emitted from the crystals around me but only enough for me to see. Enough for them to see as well. The bats the message was about? They were the size of eagles. I gulped as I saw them swooped around, luring me out of the corner. I kept my hands above my head as shields but soon realize that it was futile. They were scratching my arms with gashes. I could feel blood flow out. If this keeps up, I would have no way but to fight them head on. And that's the only way I could think of. 

    It was easy enough. They came at me one by one and all I had to do was time my slashes and soon feel the rip of flesh against the edge of my sword. I slashed out three times and each of them hits a target. I readied my stance again for more but the air was quiet. I held my guard up until I realized the crystals are glowing up again. Slowly, making my eyes adjusted to them. When I wanted to see the carcass of the bats, there was nothing but pieces of glowing crystals on the ground. These must be the key.

    I picked them up and went to the portal. Now what? With one hand gripping my sword and the other holds the glittering pieces, all I could think of was to offer them to portal. The messages blurred themselves and the arches move even further apart I would think the pressure was enough to blast this cave and bring the roof down. But it held. And the pieces in my hand moved by themselves. They swirled like the portal above me and combined into a single key. It was made out of the crystals around me, for sure. It emits the same light but duller and looked more solid. I held it up to the swirling portal and touch it.

    It was not a portal. I was wrong.

    All I could feel at the end was the leather padded hilt of the sword and the sensation of falling. Again. I think I lost consciousness at this point. I realize I was waiting for the earth to meet my back and crash every single piece of my bones.

Ain't it fun?

I'm just going to leave this here.

Because Persona. That's why.

Did I mention that she looks like Lilith from BD2? Just... a lot less hotter. And she's not shooting bandits in the face.

And she also looks like that girl... in that movie where the hero from Die Hard shoots alien and stuff and the black guy from Rush Hour sounds like he lost his balls. Also in space.

Dragonsreach

    I am in the inn, in Whiterun. The innkeeper, I forgot her name, got me and Sofia a bed in the upper stairs. There are sounds of merriment downstairs, while inside me I feel a very heavy storm about to strike lightning to my body. I thought my problem with the dragons are vanished after I made the report to Jarl Balgruff, but he seemed to take an interest into the dragons, where it come from and why. Soon after I begged the Jarl to send troops to Whiterun, not to mention I was assaulted by his housecarl Irileth, I thought I was quickly disposed of but the Jarl praised me before taking me to his wizard. I have no grudges against magic users but I am not one to touch anything that has been touched by the arcane.

    He asked me to help Farengar, the Wizard, for his dragon project. Farengar seems to be the kind of person that I usually avoid, with that burning smell and signs of insomnia in his eyes, magic users are always deprived of sleep and always smell like burning coal mixed with flesh. However, I had no choice because it was the Jarl. If I have said no, he would've chopped my head off on that instance! He has the power and nobody would've said a thing against it. After a very brief introduction, I was shoved forward by the Jarl to face the Wizard.

    It is worth mentioning here that I have no interest in Nords and their ruins. More like, I have heard stories about the dead being not so dead, and them walking around guarding the tombs. Now that bloody Wizard has charged me to go to this Bleak Falls Barrow to get some stone tablet! He explained it is a map of ancient dragon burial sites and will prove useful to discover why the dragons are coming back and why now.The ruin is near Riverwood, thank goodness it is close, and a local there should know where it is. From those words alone, I started to shake my head. Of course, the Jarl was looking at me with those stern eyes, sterner than Gerdur or Ralof gave me, so I could not do anything but nod.

    Farengar was quite happy that he has a pawn to go to that dangerous place, his face seemed distracted but nevertheless, I am sure he himself wouldn't set a foot in that place. Much less someone like me. I guess Sofia is quite useful now. She seemed to be the sort that doesn't give an inch about the undead. She looks handy with a sword too. Sofia waited outside of Dragonsreach, something about not meeting the Jarl face to face with a blush. I couldn't care less. Now I wish I had someone I knew inside there.

    Right now, she's busy having drinks with the men downstairs, however vulgar that sounds. I try not to drown myself into alcohol but I warned her the same. I told her about the job I have to do and she doesn't seemed perturbed by it. She still think I am an adventurer and I am going to go do chores for everyone I meet! I am not in a very good mood right now. I am tired, a little wet from the rain and I do not know how to survive this life any longer. Truth be told, I am depressed about current matters. Rebellion sparking everywhere, rumors of a murderer roaming around, and I found out that the Winterhold mages have discovered a ruin near the college. And a dragon sighted after hundreds of years of myth. Wizards and now dragons. I am telling you, Wizards and ruins in the same place is not a place that I would like to be.

    Right now, all I need is some bread, cheese and a meat loaf. I couldn't resist the smell coming from the cookpot. Right now, all I want is some sleeping hours without any sorts of dream. My sword, the sword given by Gerdur, was a pitiful Iron Sword with the edges rugged and looked dull. I know little about the caring of a sword but maybe I should get a newer one, with sharper looking edges. But then, I would have a lot less gold. I should buy a better sword if I want to go and survive this barrow.  Maybe Sofia can point out what weapon I should get. Maybe I should decide myself. I should train with it.

    I need sleep. I am writing gibberish. Farewell world. May I survive tomorrow.
   

Whiterun - part 2

    Nothing much happened during half the day. Except of course, for the rain that was too heavy and forced me to take shelter inside a log for a while. Well, as they say, the wolves can't really hunt in the rain because of their loss of sense of smell, but I wouldn't know that.  As I sat there in the log, I always thought my life is going to be simple. A farmer with a piece of land, maybe a spouse that I will be able to finish my life with. Hopefully, I have children or maybe even a small inn. Well, one thing happened after another and I'm stuck here, taking shelter from rain and feeling like the Eight Divines are still not satisfied with toying me around.
    I don't know how long I took shelter, though when the rain finally calmed down, the sun was falling down. The trail I took from Riverwood was getting clearer and there were hints of roads half built. People tend to mark their trails and I saw some clearing here and there. It looks like a road frequently used. Although, I was the only one around. Thank goodness there weren't any wolves, or worse things. I took one look at the sky, scanned the ceiling of the blue sky and bolted.
    The first signs of civilization, the city, were the guards. I took a corner and suddenly Whiterun loomed ahead of me.  It looked big enough at that distance that I thought it must still be bigger when I get there. There were guards patrolling the area. I gulped down and walked slowly, afraid of attracting attention. But a loner passing through the woods? Not a chance.
    There was one guard posted near the sign post. He saw me first. I didn't see him at first because of the camouflage uniform of the Whiterun guards, a brown leather armor and a steel helm. He was also wearing a cloak and a sword peeked through it. He called out to me, called me "Traveler" and asked me where I came from. I answered and the guard looked surprised. He advanced onto me and asked something about strange happenings near there. I didn't know what he was talking about, so I shook my head. He seemed relief, I guess. Whiterun was just around a bend, there was a big river on the left, and Whiterun is on the other side.
    The guard showed me the way, I thanked him and was on my way. I passed what looked like a meadery and that was when I heard shouts. There were guards running from around the bend, coming out before me. I gripped my sword, afraid to sheath it out but the guards ran towards one of the farms nearby. I quickly ran towards it too, wanting to see what's happening. I felt it inside me even before I saw it. The earth shook and it vibrated my insides. That's when I saw the Giant, smashing at the ground. I was gaping my mouth but then I realized the guards were just standing there, looking at the fight between the Giant and 3 people.
    They were seasoned veterans, I'm sure of it. And to my surprise, two of them were women. One of them have flowing hair, shooting arrows from her bow, the other was holding a sword and a shield, facing the giant, cleaving it's thighs and legs. The other one was a man, and his big greatsword swinging in great blows. I was truly at awe, watching them fight the giant. It didn't stand a chance against those three. It went down after the bow-man shot an arrow right through the Giant's eyes. The guards cheered as it fell down, and died on the spot. After that, the guards quickly gathered around the Giant and began to drag it off. Probably to be left rotten on some cave or something. I wouldn't know because those three warriors were coming after me.
    The one with the bow, Aela, greeted me. She saw my sword and asked me why I didn't join in the fight. I shook my head off, saying that I'm no warrior such as them and it didn't look as if they needed the help. She snorted, quite loudly, and said that any warrior would relish the chance to fell down a Giant. She introduced her Shield Brothers. The man was named Falkaar. I asked her what Shield Brothers are and answered that's the name given to her greatest friends and allies. She said that they're the Companions, a group of warriors doing dangerous jobs for gold. She said I have a good sword arm, although I thoroughly disagree with her, and said that I should take a chance with Kodlak Whitemane, their advisor.  She wished me luck and went ahead into Whiterun.
    I breathed out. I was offered a chance to join The Companions, and offered by such a beautiful warrior such as her. But that was not why I came to Whiterun. I took a look around, and walked towards the great city. There was a stable outside of it, the stablemen were brushing the horses. I wish I can own one of those, but the cheapest I can get was a whopping 1000 gold. I don't even have a place to sit down and call it my own. Wishes can come later.
    Then, I saw this leg peeking out from behind the stables. Shocked, I went to see what it was. What I saw sent me reeling back. It was a woman, naked to her underwear and she stink of booze. A lot of alcohol was poured down her throat at some time before. The stableman saw me and said that I don't have to care about her. She was a stranger, a drunk that had too much last night. He also said something about scaring the horses. Also said something that she's not worth the thought. I shook my head and was about to go my way when the woman grunted.
    That's when I met Sofia. Although she was quite rude with me at first, and also reeked of ale and sweat, and she was also naked, and she was also dirty, I helped her a little bit. She said something about last night, had too much to drink, and her memory was fuzzy from then on. I asked her where her clothes are, and she was shocked. Apparently, drunk people do not realize that their clothes were stolen too. I gave her a drink from my waterskin and was about to go away when she grabbed my hand, it was a very firm grip, and asked if I needed a follower. Someone to guard my back. She didn't have anything to do or anywhere to go, or rather any gold to spend, and she was willing to follow me on my adventures. I shook my head, said that I was no adventurer but she pointed out that I really look like one right then. Her persuasion skills were expert, so I had to give in. Besides, the sun was going to set in a couple of hours and I have no time to waste.
    As I gave her some clothes, a dagger, she washed her face from the river, I asked if the divines are still playing with me. She followed behind me, and I saw her clean face. She was quite beautiful but I think a guy would've had too much drink to accept her kind of personality. We walked to the gates, and I was hoping there would be no more complications after this and this Sofia will be on her way after I'm done telling the Jarl about what happened at Helgen.
    When the guardsman at the front gate stopped me, Sofia hid behind a wall. I couldn't care much why. The guard said that the gates were closed because of the dragon. Apparently the news had already reached here. I explained I was from Helgen and I bring news to the Jarl about Riverwood being in danger. He believed me and opened up the gates for me. Sofia quickly hid behind my back while we made our way to the city beyond it.
    When I said the Divines were done playing with me, I was hoping it would be true. I was truly wrong. Helgen didn't even compare to what I was about to do when I set foot inside that great, big trading city that was the center of Skyrim.

--To be continued.

Whiterun

    Gerdur wanted me to go up to Whiterun and tell the Jarl about what happened at Helgen.  She said something about Riverwood being in danger if that bloody dragon was still in the mountains nearby. I woke up today and this happened. Looks like the Eight didn't hear out my wishes after all. The sun yet rose, it was still dark but right then, I would've sworn I could say that my future is indeed darker than the weather it is right now. Far from that, as I sat there in the haystack and my torn armor, the weather look a lot brighter than what I heard next.
    I thought Ralof was going to join me. All I got back was a stern stare and a saying that went, "You do not put put a shield above your head, if the dagger is aiming at your belly." I respected Ralof because he looked like someone I could trust my life with but this seems to be the only thing I could not trust him with. Apparently, Ralof was a Stormcloak and the Imperials are searching all over for him. So, he couldn't get out and walk around a city. Besides, he said, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater is said to be on the Imperial's side in the rebellion. After that, he was gone. I never see him again.
    Gerdur handed me some supplies; food, some spare clothes and a good luck ring. She gave me a general direction to Whiterun, a city that was in the middle of Skyrim that is known throughout Tamriel as the middle point, a trading center for Skyrim.  All sorts of people went and gone there. There were also rumored to hold the rare Khajiits caravan, who travel all over Tamriel to trade goods. As much as I want to discover the truth of this, I was still reminded of what happened at Helgen. My nerves has not quite settle yet.
    As I got out of the house, I looked up to the sky and yes, my nose did not dissapoint me. It told me that rain was coming and indeed, hours later on the journey, rain began. But that was not the only downside of the journey. But first, I shall tell about the Riverwood trader incident.
    I got out of Gerdur's house, apologizing for the stay and gratitude for taking me in for the night. She didn't smile but gave me that stern stare, almost the same as Ralof gave me, and repeated what she said to tell the Jarl. Riverwood is defenseless, and needed some guardsmen. I nodded solemnly, tried my best to look motivated. She closed the door behind me as I get out of the premise. I passed the Sleeping Giant Inn, the largest building in Riverwood. Inns usually are. The village drunkard was sleeping on the wooden floor. Not once do I like being drunk.
    I saw an elf right then going into the building on my other side. He saw me but said nothing. He was holding some red flowers as he entered the place. I did not think long for that one but someone cursed silently, or trying to be silent, right behind me. My adrenaline shot up as I took out my sword and nearly stabbed the Nord behind me. But he took my sword hand and said his name and that he lives here. He also said that I ought not to swing something if I don't know how to use it. But that was beside the point. The Nord, Sven, was looking at the building the Elf entered, with squinted eyes and a grimace.
    He told me that he and Faendal, the Elf, favored for Camilla Valerius' hand in marriage. He saw the Elf sneaking into the Riverwood Trader, the building, trying to woo Camilla. He also said something about a rat but I didn't catch it. Right then, Faendal got out with a big smile and glittering eyes. Sven grabbed me out of sight. He cursed into my ears. When Faendal turned the corner to work the mill, Sven stood me up and handed me a parchment. Written in neat words, the letter was a trap for Faendal. At first, I refused to do it but he urged me enough with the tongue that Nords seem to have and I was persuaded to agree. All I had to do was to lie to Camilla that the letter was from the Elf.
    I entered the Riverwood trader, expecting the usual welcome merchants usually use but this time there were shoutings behind the door. I stood there like a dumb fool while a man and a woman argued about something. When the man suddenly noticed me, he excused himself and the woman, and welcomed me in. The woman, Camilla I presume, went by with a high nose. I went up to the man, who introduced himself as Lucan Valerius, Camilla's brother, and he apologized for the incident. I asked what happened and I wished I didn't. He told me that he was robbed but the robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw. By that name alone, my nerves hit the ceiling and decided I was not going to investigate further. I excused myself from Lucan's persuasion of trading and spoke to Camilla.
    I admit I have lied before in my life but this time, I decided not to. Perhaps by some divine intervention or perhaps maybe I didn't want to. I said to Camilla that the letter was actually from Sven and it was a trap for Faendal. She took the letter and read it. Her eyes got bigger with every line. I presume the content was harsh and decided not to ask. She calmly put the letter down and thanked for telling the truth and I should meet up with Faendal to let him know what happened. I told her I would but truthfully, I didn't want to meet up with anymore people. At the mention of the thing's name, my whole body was too tensed for casual conversations. I made my salutations and excused myself from the Riverwood Trader, with the usual "Come back again!", and I left the village altogether.
    As I pull my cloak up to cover my face from the incoming rain, I wished again for the Eight Divines to hold off more obstacles in my life before I got here, to Whiterun. Of course, the only answer I got were thunders up high. I sighed and made my way to the city.

"--to be continued"
   

Helgen

    This day couldn't get any worse.  First, I was captured by the bloody Imperials, of all people I met these damn nutcases are the worst. I nearly got my head on the chopping block, praying with all my might that somehow my life will at least change something, and the out of the clear blue sky, a bloody... THING appeared out of nowhere.  Well, it was too late when somebody shouted what we used to call those things.  But death suddenly didn't seem a very good notion at that point.  I can agree to die on imperial orders but I'm not going to die by the claws of that THING.

    A dragon. Out of nowhere. And I thought that flint Argonian I met yesterday had too much skooma.

    Thankfully, I don't know how else to feel, my head was still intact at that moment and one of those damned Stormcloaks got me up and we ran inside the tower.  It was Helgen. And it was burning to the ground and chaos enrupted here and there. Rocks were flying and they were on flames.  The skies turned crimson, and it was spewing those rocks. I saw one of the imperials draw his bow and another second he was splattered by one of the rocks.  Gods help me, I don't want to die like that! When I die, at least I want my body parts still intact as much as possible.

    That damn Ulfric Stormcloak, I refuse to admit him as Jarl or High King. It was because of him I got captured.  The Imperials ambushed them and I somehow got in the middle of it, of all things!  Well there was no turning back then.  I decided to follow these bloody Stormcloaks.  A Ralof got me into Helgen Keep to escape.  I was unofficially recruited as a rebel and the others that we met seemed to agree with Ralof.  He seemed to be Ulfric's right hand man because the others pay respect to him as much.  I figured sticking with him for a while wasn't a bad idea.  In that 15 minutes of confusion, I put on armor, swing a blade and killed people.  As well as spiders. I have never been so abashed of myself before.

    But whatever. We managed to get out of Helgen through a back door, a cave. That dragon flew out at the same time as us.  Looks like he won't be coming here again soon. Ralof said he has a sister in a nearby village, Riverwood.  I didn't dare split up with him. My nerves were on edge and I think I'll wet my pants more than I ever will if someone cracked a stick behind me.  I was definitely on edge. Thankfully, Ralof seem to understand.  Of course, one look at me and anyone would recognize a milk drinker.  I don't do blade stuff that much.  And until now, I've never killed anything more than a fox. That with a bow too.

    Well, we got to Riverwood as fast as we can, Ralof showed me some standing stones.  I know of the stories about them but this is the first time I've found it. There were etchings made into the stones to resemble figures.  There were three of them. One was a warrior, holding an axe and a shield, a second was a mage, with a staff and a robe, and the other a thief, with a dagger on one hand an a cloak.  Ralof didn't feel safe, so we hurried by as quickly as we can.  Riverwood was a small village, newly made I think. There were only a handful of people here. Gerdur, Ralof's sister, and her husband greeted us at the mill they were working. Ralof introduced me, thankfully not as a comrade, and that he owe me his life. Actually, I think it's the other way around.

    Ralof told the two about the incident at Helgen.  There was a river beside us, I took a little wash to clean out the dust from my face and hands. The water was cold and fresh and it hit me like one those flaming rocks that that bloody dragon saved my life. Well, of course he would've killed me too if he got the chance but that was beside the point. I didn't know what to do at those moments and here I am, consorting with rebels. Fate is not in my favor this day at all. Gerdur agreed to help Ralof and me. Hod, the husband, showed us to their place. They put up a makeshift bed, with haystacks, for us to sleep on. Hod got us some bread and cheese with ale. I ate it up like a hungry little boy.  For that matter, this is the first real meal I had since days ago.

    Now, the time of the day is coming to an end. Fatigue got the best of me now. I hoped that tomorrow might bring a brighter light into my life for once. I never want to see another damn dragon again.

Fury towards a Wall

    I'm angry.
    Why are you angry?
    I don't know.
    You do know why you're angry.
    Because I don't get what I want.
    So's the guy who's struggling to make money for his starving family.
    That has nothing to do with this.
    But when you look at it that way, what you want and what he wants, it's about the same.
    What are you saying?
    What I'm saying is for you to suck it up.
    Easy for you to say.
    You're just being a cry baby who cries when he doesn't get his candy.
    It's a good candy.
    Still a candy.
    You don't know what it feels like.
    I don't care.
    Shut up.
    Suck it up and stop crying, cry baby.
    I said, SHUT UP.
    ...

Demons Inside

  

This is the images that flash through my eyes as I listen to that^. Not for the weak hearted. Sorry.
   The sea foam rolls on the short beach, pulled by the current, pushed by the waves.  The golden sand reflects the dawning sun's lights, making mirages over eyes. The blue skies speckled with glittering morning stars, it's radiant colour calms the souls. Over the edge of a bridge, a pair of eyes see back its reflections. The eyes' black irises look back into it's own mirrors. The sleepless nights made dark rings around them, with small veins contrasts the yellowing whites of the eyeball.

    The sun climbs a little bit more. There was nobody else anywhere. The piers creak slowly and the waves climb over the beach. Yet, the head of the person were nothing but quiet, voices inside ask questions, answer back and argue over decisions. The face contorts to keep them quiet. Long has it been since the voices grow quiet. Mirrors of the soul mirror themselves into endless blackness.

    The sun climbs still. Footsteps heard on the wooden pier. Yet none stopped. How could they? Their voices were whispers in his ears, echoing in his brain. Soundless noises of amalgam voices. They die in the ears.

     Another person paused at the piers. Looked over the edges and sobs surface. Tears over the eyes bubble up and flow over the face. The hands cupped to keep the mouth from more than sobs. Yet, the tears flow freely down, like a loose dam. Cries grit the teeth. A name reached them.

    The black eyes look up and see the other. Yet, only those eyes can see the other. How can the other ever truly see something that cannot be seen? The voices hushed. Only a name was said, over and over again. The legs try to pull the body up, yet they do not budge. If they only can. The other's cries pierce the ears, stings the heart. Yet it is too late.

    Another approaches the other. Consoled the shoulders. They nervously shudder more and more. Until it cannot hold the pressure inside. Yet those black eyes can only look. Full of sorrow and regrets. Amendments reach the mouth. Yet it is too late.

    The eyes look over the pier. Mirrors of the soul mirror themselves into endless blackness. The sun reaches the end and dusk reached out.

    Some miles from there. A stone with engraving. The name of the person and dates. It has only been some weeks since the last date. The soil was fresh compared to the others. The body inside decomposes slowly.

    The legs can never budge. A large stone was tied to it. The eyes can never remove the sights from the foams, the reflections. Sky would not accept, and the soil spouts back, and the sea touches not the skin. The black eyes can only wait for the world to end. Regrets filled them. Yet it is too late.

    For the living, never give up hope. For the dead, may they reach peace one day.

That turned out better than expected

Algorithm - D (ouch haha)

Islamic studies - B+ (wow... didnt expect that)

Database - C (Expected.)

Web Application and Design - B+ (okayyyyyyyyyyyy....)

Network - B+ (lol wut thought i failed this...)

CGPA - 2.69 from 2.78

Ouch. But hey, I thought it was going to be a lot worse you know... especially the Network. God.

Algoritm and Data Structure. Oh yes. I like the subject, the lecturer, the discussion but hey... I was being kind of a jerk most of the time, I realize that now but hey, when you are being presented something that you actually like, something you actually want to learn, you can't help yourself but be... passionate about it you know...

Turns out being responsive and active in class also means being a jerk.

Okay, sure. I can assume the "old" me and just be quiet and sit at the side as usual as before but hey, let's face it.

It's a university, man, not a frikkin secondary school where the teachers are the one who gives you the knowledge and that's the only knowledge you need to pass the frikkin exam.... But I suppose it is my fault... Being loud just isn't my thing...

Well. Back to the old white board guys because we gotta scrap this plan of being active and participating in class. We gotta be silent and passive again.

Or not.

He bought me another thing. Again.

I don't know about you guys but my father, my beloved father, is always buying me things without me asking for it. And then he said he has no more money.

Well, dad do you know why you're out of money? Because you're spending it on me... Stop doing that and see what happens.

I'm not saying I don't appreciate the things he gave to me. Food, shelter, clothes, this laptop and lots of money have gone into me. I really appreciate that. But the more I realize how much he's spending, the less I want to realize how much he's spending.

Today, i mean yesterday, after dinner he brought me to the Samsung shop and bought me a frikkin Galaxy Tab 3 10.1. I was like, "Oh no. Not again."

He wants my old Tab 2 to be given to my sister and he wants to exchange it for the new one. I COULD'VE said, I don't need another one but the look on his face when he wants to buy me something... you could've sprout a rainbow from it.

So here it is. The Tab.

It looks brand new because it is brand new.

I have yet to configure the things in it. Plan to equip it with a lot of internet connectivity and maybe start a new journal from it and so on. Depressing thoughts are always present anyway haha so why not write it down right?

Also... I'm thinking of buying DaGi's stylus for this one. I mean, it certainly looks convincingly useful, that's for sure.

One tip guys. Keep most things in DIGITAL FORM. Whatever paper work you have, scan it, store it inside a safe storage device. Trust me you do NOT want to be like my ex-roommate who has 5 boxes for books and papers only. God, my arms never felt that heavy before....

Second post of the (early) day. Wow.

Good night, I love you and bye.

I suppose it is my fault.

Right. Let's get on with this, shall we?

I will get straight to today's topic: Hope.

Hope. What is it? By MY definition, it is the presence of a certain faith that things are going to be alright.

It hurts not talking to her. It hurts talking to her.

Such dilemma.

Well, thanks to my ever faithful self, I present to you a solution. Blame it on yourself.

Torture yourself, so that the other person do not feel the same.

Now, before I get to the part where I break down and start flinging words, I will give you Hope. She is not totally lost. Delusional? Let it be so because it stops the pain. I'll take anything to stop the pain short of worshipping other deities, or killing myself. Drugs? I wish I could get ahold of some cough medicine so that I can actually sleep soundly for a night.

To you girls and mothers out there. I present to you a modal of a person:

- 24 years old
- Independent
- Has a permanent job
- Smart
- Hardworking
- Responsible
- Spiritual

Wow. Much handsome. Such victory. Much want.

Well, guess what, mothers? You can have him as your son-in-law, and maybe get a few grandchildren with perfect hair, body and personality just like their father.

I suppose I have myself to blame. I did not exercise, I did not take care of my body, I sleep late, I'm always playing games, I'm lazy and I'm not that responsible sometimes.

Here's the catch. You do not know this guy yet, but he SEEMS to be a nice guy. Well, if this guy is not a nice guy, I don't know who is.

So, you (mother) go up to him and say, "Will you see my daughter?"

He said, "Why not?"

And off they go to the parent's home and voila, nice to meet you, nice to meet you too, here she is, smiley smiley.

Ah. Seems perfect. It's like true love. Based on mother's instincts too. Wow.

They got to know each other, the guy likes the girl, the girl likes the guy. Soon after, wedding day.

They got happily married, have children, smile all the time. Happily ever after.

Wish it could've been that easy. I mean, who wouldn't want it to be that easy, right?

So, consider another case:

- 20 years old
- Dependent on his parents for money, shelter and food.
- Student. Not that great either.
- Average. Sometimes a little bit lower.
- Lazy ass.
- Not so responsible.
- Not so spiritual.

Nope. One look at this guy, and you know he's going nowhere. Not even out of the parent's house. I mean, COME ON look at that eyebrows eeww, and that crooked mouth OH GOD, and that smell... what is that smell? Is he wearing his pants lower than his waist? Who in blazes do that?

This guy does.

But wait up. First judgements aside, when you open your eyes... you can actually see that his eyebrows are not that bushy. Only most of the time it looks bushy, because he's always thinking... thinking about something... thinking on how to make the best of his day.

Wait up again. You ask him... "Why are you depending on your parents?" The guy looks up and answered, "Because they don't let me work... They want me to study." Oh. Would you look at that.

Wait a minute... that smell... You look to the side and you saw someone had puked over the side road and it smells so bad. Then you look a the guy... he smells faintly of deodorant. Oh. Okay.

Wait wait wait... when you look closer... his mouth is crooked because he's always frowning. And that scar on his nose... the doctor apparently pulled the skin above his lips up to patch the tear. Poor guy. Must've fallen off the stairs or something.

I'm not one to say who I am. I'm the worst judge anyone can ever be, trust me. Call me Hakim all you want, but I'm the worst judge in the world.

I once had a friend. His name was Amirul Adli. One day we had a fight. I hit him on the head; I pulled his head down and punch him right there at the back of the head. I was so angry at the time, I didn't know what happened until after it happened.

I wanted to ask forgiveness from him but I know we are not going to be friends anymore. I was fat, he was thin. I was slow, he was FAST. He's good at math but he's not so good in english. We were nigh inseperable.

I couldn't go on to that tuition anymore. Everytime I do, I remember him and I felt like a weight had pressed me down on my back. I couldn't gulp saliva and I couldn't breath. After the fight, he went out of the room and entered the other one that was empty. After a while, I went after him and I said I was sorry. I held out a hand, he slapped it and he cried like I've never seen anyone cried before.

 We went back home in silence. I cried in the shower back home, thinking back on how I started it first. It was me who punched him first, even though he was my only friend at that time.

He transferred school. I stayed.
We crossed paths once or twice. I smiled at him and he smiled at me. We never went more than that.

I think that was the first clear rejection I've ever had. And it was my fault.

Ever since then, I was afraid of my anger. I was afraid of what I will become if I let go of my feelings. It dawned on me that I'm a big man, small head, big hands. People see me as if I'm a giant. I was afraid of what I have grown into.

If you see me down the road, say hi to me, hold out a hand. I will say hi back to you and shake that hand. But after that, you decide.

I also found out that I'm sentimental. And sensitive.

Good night, i love you and bye.