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"kalo Iuno Novella," called out the high priest. The last rays of the sun were disappearing beyond the horizon as he summoned the new moon. Today was the Kalends, an odd-numbered day. It should be lucky then, as his contemporaries had mentioned over and over. Yet there was a nagging feeling in his temples, like a young child calling out his name over and over. Ianuarius!
The new moon revealed her crown, and with it came an influx of selenergy. The priest laid down the ceremonial rock, and proceeded to the corridors of silence. There, he must find answers.
He had expected the "corridors" to be empty, as most were celebrating the Kalends and the rise of the crimson moon, but one of the novice priestesses stood at one of the pool-mirrors. Her face was hidden from view by a thick brown veil. Right arm raised above the water, fingers clumped together and pointing downward, he saw her mouth slowly repeating what must be one of the basic chants. If successfully harnessed, selenergical magic would resonate with the reflection of the moon in the water and create an illusion of a floating moon above it.
There was none.
Instead, a lady of pure crystal violet rose from the water and proclaimed, "Shackle the rose under the tree, the end will come, and it will come with me." The priest banished the apparition with a flick of his wrist, but it immediately reappeared, with a sad look on its face. "My dear, I have not come to threaten you. I know you have felt it for some time now, and yes, it is true. Our time has come, and.." Her words were cut short as scrolls of silence bound her head. The high priest sighed as the illusion shattered.
The brown-veiled novice disappeared, along with the apparition she summoned. The high priest sighed, one full of regret and relief. Regret that he hadn't let her finish speaking; the subsequent curiosity as to what she had to say would eat at his mind for the whole week. The relief was equally powerful. It had been a while since he had to use medium level spells to dispel enemy magic. Usually, anything that crossed paths with him would be gone with a simple raise of an eyebrow.
His mind racing, he started to analyze everything - who, why, how, when, where?
What are you talking about?
Haha. So how long have you known I was the Wanderer?
Damn. And all these years I thought you'd never found out.
Yeah, I guess the Dark Knight did a great job. I'm sorry, I really am.
Well, probably I liked it even if it wasn't that nice.
Haha, thanks for admitting it. I'm glad to hear it. I needed that.
Awwww. I can listen, but I can't promise you anything. Oh, wait, did you feel that?
Got you. I told you, I'm nothing. Otherwise, you would've felt the intervention.
I can't believe I even liked that page on facebook. Well, at first, I already had doubts about it. I mean, its three-lettered name seemed to be a pun on "f*ck you." But then, the posts there were interesting facts, which, after checking on google, seemed legit.
Now, after a couple of days, I suddenly get this sh!t on my news feed objectifying women. And it fucking gives those poor women TEN excuses to let their sex-driven horny husbands fuck their many mistresses out there, as if it was completely acceptable.
I just couldn't take that.
When you no longer get that flood of greetings on your birthday, does it mean something? Alright, that was just an exaggeration. It probably means nothing more than this: hey, your birthday isn't visible on facebook!
Breathe in, calm down. Yeah right, as if I would panic just because of that. It just got me thinking. There wasn't facebook to remind people of birthdays for a large part of my life, but back then, I got much more greetings than I'm getting now. Last year, I think I got a handful, aside from family. This year, let's wait and see.
Okay, so birthday wasn't all amazing, but it was fine. I had wanted my various best friends to greet me, but then they must have been to busy to remember. I even resorted to changing my facebook settings so they'd get a birthday reminder. I got about forty greetings from other friends instead, which lifted my mood, even though I knew it was kind of a farce. I guess it put things in a different perspective for me, convincing me that birthday greetings from people who just got reminded by a facebook alert still count for reclusive people like me.
It's a vicious cycle, one that, no matter how many curse words are said, will not ever end. Unlike everything else, it's a perpetual machine violating the fundamental law of destruction: when utter destruction is wrought over, it cannot be done again unless the object has recovered.
Yes, it is a queer quality. Destroying something beyond destruction - few of us can fathom such irrationality, but it was something that rose out of the event horizon of the Haronea black hole. An alien. An aberration. Whatever particles it was borne from, it was surely of another universe.
My dear, oh why.
Again, he was being stubborn. That's one streak in him that had never changed. I knew the conversation, if I had let it happen, would have gone in circles. I imagined the pleading and convincing and appeasing, and if it really happened, all the while I would have been thinking how irritating it was. Why? Because I already knew that in his heart, he knew he was the center of the group. But I have to remind him countless times over and play along, go put up this farce. That's the game I have to play as a loyal friend.
Okay. So I've got a few days left, and I'm not sure how to make the most of it. I must schedule. I must eliminate distractions. I must commit.
Yes, I must commit. Priorities. Priorities. Think far ahead. What do I want, what would matter more, what can be replaced, what might be lost forever?
This might be the last days of freedom, so I'd love to make sure that before I enter the prison called young-professional-life, I'll be ready for it. I know I'm all words, but I will try. Try to fight hard, try to win.
That feeling of being spent physically - it was nostalgic. I wasn't completely burnt out to the point of dropping spreadeagled on the bed, though. But on a graph of physical activity vs time in days, it would have been a major spike.
I fear for my future and its potentially-inevitable sedentary lifestyle. Oh dear.
Anyway, yesterday was fun, though it came at the cost of the three unit operations I had scheduled for yesterday. My, my, I never knew timetables were this hard to follow. And add to that the power an old friend invoked for tomorrow - the favor.
Deception? Tell me about it.
It's a fad!! Yes, everyone's into it, so I'm beginning to doubt if it's deception per se. Oh, excuse my runny nose. It's been itching to join a 5K for some time now.
Okay, so let's get back to business. Everyone seems to be saying that they haven't prepared, not the slightest bit. And poor me for riding along gullible's travels. Must be karma, because I sometimes drop jokes that are meant to be sarcastic but unfortunately are heard differently.
Fine, maybe everyone's got sky standards for what "prepared" means.
Whatever. Just. Do. My. Best.
The light touch of muscle pain that greeted my buttocks as I got up from bed was a pleasant feeling. It had been a long time since I felt it, probably a few years. The pain always told me that my muscles had worked hard, and they weren't neglected... Welcoming pain - it must be from indoctrination with those military values eight years ago: "no pain, no gain," and all those similar mottos.
I had worn myself out yesterday. One and a half hours of fairly intensive badminton, and probably another hour (or more) of ultimate. Sweating at its finest. Not.
Dark veils are meant to keep secrets in. And where the secrets are lies immense power. Remember this, Romann.
Let me tell you something. The position you hold now is nothing to them, to those avaricious gods hidden behind the veil. Their true names are unknown to you, but surely you've seen them in plain sight. In another face, in another form, wearing an aura of holiness and glory. Their false promises may have filled you with energy, but your blind obedience has filled their pockets.
Believe me, child! You rise to their defense, but you mean nothing to them!
I wonder to what extent genetics affects our political tendencies. Oh, by the way, politics isn't plainly that mess we see in the senate. It's all about power, even within your own clique. I wonder how some people tend to be effortlessly influential, others are sly and slippery liars, a few are cutesy manipulators, and a lot are just followers.
I remember something I read, where women who live together tend to sync their menstrual cycles with the alpha female, even if such an alpha is physically non-existent. Isn't it cool, how they can sync to an imaginary alpha?
I wonder how many of our congressmen, senators, and politicians, in general, have taken public transportation during rush hour. Have they felt the frustration of trying to get a ride, but having to wait for hours? Have they found themselves tired from school or work, but stuck in a traffic jam - on a jeepney with no AC, smoke filling their lungs? Have they fought their way into a train as a mob of people push their way in?
My cousin and I went to the capital yesterday, and it was sardines again for us. Body parts everywhere!
When. Until when.
I'm starting to think that partial destruction is one of the solutions. While utter annihilation would simply bring about our end, a certain degree of it could stir up enough desperation. At the right levels, this could then bring unity. Together, we can build up the ruins.
When the hell venom enters the body, the part that was bitten must immediately be cut off to prevent the spread of infection. Otherwise, the person turns into a zombie. This is how it must be done for the whole nation. Those who have been bitten must be cut off from the rest.
You know what, there's something that happens to me a lot when I'm in queues, and I especially notice it at fastfood stores.
I bet most of us would take the shortest line, if there is one. Otherwise, we'd just pick one at random. In my case, whichever line I take is often the slowest, even if there were actually less people there to begin with. Sometimes it's because those in front ordered a lot. Other times it's because the cashier is a newbie and is moving at quite a glacial pace.
But most of the time, it's just me.
I think I could have sat there and waited, like, forever. No, it's not what you're thinking. This isn't a cheesy love story, where my girlfriend has one day left to live and she decides to spend it with me at the park.
I'm not happy sitting here. Alone. No one notices me. Not a single soul. I've sat here for weeks, even months, but they all walk by. Not the slightest glance, or accidental squint. Sometimes I'd walk around, too, in the hopes that someone might notice my troubled expression. So far, I've managed to get a dog's attention.
I read somewhere that for a long time, being single was considered the ultimate failure in life. Probably because in this place I live, the morals propagated by the dominant religion tell everyone to go forth and multiply. If you reach three, four decades and still remain single, people start gossiping. Oh how my countrymen love gossip. It's like blood to a starved vampire. They'd talk about how ugly you are, or perhaps how pitiful it is that no one loves you. Well, if you're too attractive to be pitied, they'd start thinking you're plain immature, gay, or probably asexual.
There's two things I need. Someone to wreck me, crush me, reject me, shame me. Bring me to the doorstep of failure, push me down the stairs of success, drag me out of my comfort zone. I need this, but I'm afraid, as most people would be by default. But if I stay the way I am, unacquainted to major difficulties and sky-high downfalls, I might not be able to cope with it when it does come. And after all those sadistic moves, I need someone to lean on, to pull me back up and revive my worn spirit.
Malthur sat atop the wall, contemplating about his fate. While a lot of his companions had found a place to belong, he was yet to find one. In truth, he silently believed that there wasn't one for him.
A brilliant thought then occurred to him - if he didn't belong anywhere now, then he might belong not to someplace, but to some time. Could it be that his meditative nature matched well with the ancient civilizations? Perhaps he could be an alchemist or a sorcerer. Or maybe he belonged to the future, surrounded by cyborgs and robots on a desecrated earth.
I know a couple of people who are chronic flakes. They flake out every single time that I've learned to keep any expression of surprise at bay. In the past, it was irritating every time they'd suddenly get "busy," but now, it's just funny. It's particularly amusing when they overflow with false anticipation and you ride along, despite knowing that inevitably, in the end, they'll be ditching you. Well, maybe it's just me; I'm kinda twisted anyway. Call me sick, but I find the deception in playing along slightly thrilling. More so when it's someone I've cared for, for years.
This intense reviewing has reminded me how vulnerable I am emotionally. Frustration overwhelms me just because I can't figure out the solution to a problem. It affects my mood, and probably messes up with my biochemistry.
I should learn to move on. Set a pace, set goals, and meet them. I'm creeping through like a glacier, and I can't help thinking where I'll be in two weeks. Two weeks.
My face by then would look as if it just smelled glacial acetic acid. The creases on my forehead standing out as mountain ranges of pimples scream "stress" on my behalf.
Another of my friends would be migrating, and I think the day is coming soon. She isn't saying when, but she's dropping subtle hints that I'm picking up. My guess is she'd be gone by Christmas. If not, it would probably March or April next year.
I hadn't really considered what it would be like when she flies off, but I did just that last night. It was then that I realized, without her, things would never be the same in the group. She was one of the three members I held tightly onto whenever we did those crazy stuff.
It's been eleven days since the invaders arrived.
It was completely different from how our ancestors imagined. While they thought aliens would arrive on gargantuan motherships, in reality, no grand entrance happened. They just appeared out of thin air, like quantum teleportation brought to our scale.
The destruction they wrought was terrible, yet at the same time, it was stunningly beautiful in a way. Whole jungles of concrete were reduced to dust, but not a single tree was taken down. I don't think anyone would believe me, but I think the natural elements bloomed further as the invaders passed by.
Some of them continued praying, probably out of habit. Well, fine. A lot of them, actually, still couldn't accept the... aliens (for the lack of a more convenient term), and how their existence immediately violated some of the basic premises of their beliefs - that the world they lived in was special, one of a kind, the only sanctuary of life; and that they were the highest of all creation, the center of all this beauty and wonder. I felt for them; I, too, knew what it was like to witness everything you held on to shattered into innumerable fragments.
Someone left a black Gibi bag (wrapped around something) at the Japanese Garden, about fifteen steps from the torii. Still exhausted from the jog earlier, we decided to sit down and wait to see if its owner would come back for it. No one did, which wasn't really a surprise, given its peculiar placement and the overall situation. We decided to investigate its contents and check for identification - anything that would give us an idea who to contact or where to leave it. It turns out that it was left there on purpose. Inside were two diaries and a note.
I let life pass as a blur, and now that I've had a chance to pause, the regrets come gushing in like a crazed tsunami.
There's always something seductive about entertaining what ifs. If I were asked why, I'd say it's because in the what-if scenario, everything turns out right. What if I chose to be a doctor? I'd be doing my clinics next year. I wouldn't be thinking of anything else, and I'd be so passionate with work, I could cry myself tears of joy.
But come on, dear self, do you really think the road's that smooth?
Last day. Halloween. Hocus Pocus.
I'm studying Deutsch. And I guess it's good. One: putting my tablet to good use (I'm using a free app). Two: I find it entertaining. Trying to pronounce foreign words weirdly amuses me. Ich esse einen Apfel.
Studying the conjugation and other grammatical rules of another language are also good exercises for the brain. I didn't know that in German, you have to capitalize all of your nouns. Essen means food, but essen means to eat. Other forms of "to eat" can also be used, like esse and isst, but it depends on the doer.
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