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.