Borrowed Time Still Fabricates Reality (A Prelude to Clock Strikes Twenty One)

Borrowed time fabricates reality.

My heart begins to beat quicker. The heart of the world begins to beat quicker with the harmony of the waves gently crashing into the shores carrying the sands of time. If we could live for an eternity, the meaning of life will not be searched by lost souls. Life, as we know it, is just humans trying to know who they are, what have they become, and what they will become. Life is the infinite tessellation of the relationships of people in search for the meaning of their existence; the reason why time is just lent to them, and not given to them.

Another year passes by. Age doesn't matter, it's how you live your life.



Well at least for me, it still does.

Three Hundred Minus One Hundred Eighty Four

A man is welding an iron rod on the tenth floor of the building adjacent to our office. Before he got there, he precariously lowered his rickety carriage by the complex systems of ropes and pulleys. Even with the semi-soundproof panes of the office and the headset owning my right ear, I still heard the complaints of the pulleys as it stressed itself in its task of lowering the man to safety. The creaks of the wooden planks managed to defy all the obstructions between its lofty, outside position to my ear sitting prettily inside the ninth floor of the opposite building. The sheer height of the tenth floor coupled with the crass battering of the wind to the man's body made me wonder if that man clad in his welder's mask is happy with what he's doing. I wonder if he feels safe in being tied to a safety line which does not look sturdy at all. I wonder if his knees buckle and freeze whenever he is raised to even higher heights. I wonder if he's really willing to risk life and limb in doing his job.

I wonder if all that risk is worth taking. I wonder if he's doing the right thing.



I wonder if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do.



---
Three hundred minus one hundred eighty four equals one hundred sixteen.

One-sentence Status Two

Innocent world, grant me a glamorous sky.

Rudolf, on his 184th hour at work

One-sentence Status One

It's time to go when you've found your reason to stay.

Rudolf, on his 168th hour at work

Archbishop Arenne

Oh hello! Are you new here? As far as we know, the only ones on this server are Arenne, Levantine, and me, Zweihander.

I thought so. You don't recognize me, do you?

Have we met somewhere?

You ARE slow, aren't you? What a dimwit.

*chuckle*

Am I missing out on something?

It's me Zweihander. It's Arenne.

Huh?

I just changed jobs. I worked hard to change from a High Priest to an Archbishop.

But your hair, does it come with the change?

Oh no. It's just that my old hairstyle doesn't suit my new attire.

Yeah. I thought that blonde hairstyle of yours was a real eyesore. Tch, good thing your hair's black now. It's much more softer on the eyes.

I'll take that as a complement, thank you.

It suits your new look well, Arenne.

Why thank you Zweihander. Not like some other people out there! Hmp.

But what made you decide to change classes?

It's because of Levantine.

Huh?

For me? Gimme a break.

I was unable to help him the last time. I changed classes so that I can help you guys more during times of need. I can protect myself better too now, so you don't need to worry about me that much.

I bet you still can't dodge too great. Heh. I think women in heels don't dodge AT ALL.

I can still cast Devotion on both of you, so don't worry. But hey, I'm sure you are more powerful now Arenne. Thanks for thinking of everyone's sake first before yours.

Arenne casts Canto Candidus. Levantine, Zweihander, and Arenne receives effects of Agility Up: AGI + 10.

Arenne casts Clementia. Levantine, Zweihander, and Arenne receives effects of Blessing: INT, DEX, STR + 10.

Arenne casts Prefatio. Levantine, Zweihander, and Arenne receives effects of Kyrie Eleison.

Arenne casts Coluceo Heal. Levantine, Zweihander, and Arenne heals 2984 HP.

Arenne casts Highness Heal on Zweihander. Zweihander recovers 11187 HP.

Wow. You really did get that strong, Arenne.

Yes, I have.

I am not changing to a Guillotine Cross, no matter what. Their armor stinks like hell.

GuitarFreaks for Dummies

To navigate through menus:
Use RED and BLUE. Press START to confirm.


At the song selection screen:
To change the difficulty of a song (navigate from Basic to Extreme), hold down GREEN and PICK twice.

To increase speed by 0.5x, press GREEN, GREEN. Maximum value is at MAX(after 9.5), minumum value is 1.0x.

To change the sorting of the songs, hold down GREEN while turning the KNOB.

To select a song, press START. Holding down start will open the Game Style Menu, where all game modifiers can be accessed.

To cycle between Normal, Bass, and Open Pick Guitar Modes, PICK once, GREEN, GREEN, and then PICK again.


Game Modifiers:
SPEED: Adjusts rate of how fast the notes/hits move on the screen. Minimum of 1.0x, maximum of MAX (approximately 10.0x).

HIDDEN/SUDDEN: Makes notes/hits disappear or appear three-fourths of the way on the screen. Can be set to Off, Hidden, Sudden, Hidden + Sudden, or Stealth. Hidden + Sudden will make notes blink three-fourths of the way on the screen, while Stealth completely makes notes invisible.

DARK: Can be set to Off, Half, or Full. Half hides the life and judgment bar, while Full hides life, judgment, and beat division bars.

REVERSE: Makes notes scroll down instead of up. Can be turned On or Off.

POSITION: Changes the position of hit judgment texts (Perfect, Great, Good, Poor, and Miss). Type-A displays text above the judgment bar, while Type-B displays text below the judgment bar. Off stops judgment texts from appearing.

COMBO: Toggles combo display position. Can be set to Left, Center, Right, or Off.

RANDOM: Randomizes each column or each note. Random randomizes columns, Super Random randomizes even notes. Off is set as the default value.

LEFT: Switches RED and BLUE columns so that the guitar can be picked using the left hand (left-hand mode).

LIGHT: Turning this option on will not penalize excess hits of the PICK.


Guitar Modes:
NORMAL: Plays the melody line/guitar part of the song. Default mode and relatively harder than Bass, but not always the case.

BASS: Plays the harmony line/bass part of the song. Relatively easier than Normal, but not always the case.

OPEN: Introduces Open Picked notes to the song, wherein no buttons are pressed when picking. A horizontal line with the text "OPEN" signifies these notes.

The Unknown Condition of Levantine

Something is definitely bothering you, Levantine.

Shut up.

He's always like that, Zweihander. Not yet used to him? Come on, we've been together like forever.

But Arenne, Levantine seems different today.

What? He's still the ill-tempered foul-mouthed friend I know.

Shut up, both of you.

See what I mean?

It's just that I feel weak.

Oh wow, this is new. A sentence free from any expletives!

Shush, Arenne. Why? What are you feeling?



I don't know. I don't understand it myself.

The Blind (Leading the Blind)

After failing to accomplish or even start the related literature of our thesis, I went home from the ninth floor with a heavy weight burdening my eyes. My pupils were dilating erratically as I ran along the peaceful street of Upper McKinley. My reaction was to squint my eyes as the dimly lit afternoon was too much a bright spectacle for my sleep-deprived eyes to handle. It was almost half past five, but luckily, I still managed to catch the bus that would bring me back to the bustling station in Ayala. As soon as my back laid rest on my seat at the very rear of the vehicle, all my notions of consciousness went to the gnarled hands of the sandman, even if my lower back complained because of the frigid wisps of air that numbed my upper back.

Awakened by the noisy steps of the other passengers wanting to go home, my eyes suffered another case of photosensitivity. My eyes could not bear how bright the fluorescent lights installed in the bus seemed to be. My forehead wrinkled like poor velvet as I crumpled my eyes to deter any more light from blinding my tired eyes. But after a few minutes, my eyes regained composure. My face slowly straightened out to its normal, expressionless look. All the emotions of my face seemed to have been sapped by the tired appearance of my eyes. I could barely open my eyes to see if the train was packed with people or not. After squinting for the tenth time, it dawned in me that I was already inside the train, standing under another blast of air-conditioning comparable to that of a fourth of how cold it was in the arctic. A friend of mine told me that before. How I wish that he's still my friend until now, but there's no point in sulking on something already in the distant past.

As soon as the doors of the train opened in Cubao, the masses poured out like a tidal wave breaking the most impenetrable door. The people flushed themselves out of the chaos inside to the chaos outside. Sweat saturated the six-thirty air as people drenched in their own and someone else's sweat wiped their faces with whatever they had handy. I slowly treaded the stairs and avoided the weird heat emanating from the people clogging the way.

For the very first time, my eyes breathed a big sigh of relief as the stairs were dark and gloomy. Apparently, the fluorescent lamp died out.

I climbed down and waited for a bus to take me home while keeping the darkness from that flight of stairs with me. I am tired of seeing the same things over and over and over again. I am wearing out of seeing what other people don't see, and from seeing things that I do not want to see.

Sometimes, I just want to get blind and live in the darkness of the night. Sometimes, I want to see nothing else but an infinite ebony sky; without stars, without hopes. Sometimes, I yearn to go back in time and remain under a starless night, forever wishing that my dreams would be carried across the sky.

It was just a short time until I found myself standing to alight the bus. However, the man in front of me was slowly walking his way towards the exit. He didn't look old or lame, but the conductor and the other passengers on board kept assisting him.

He was blind.

I helped him alight the bus since he was in front of me. It was then that he asked me with an unsure voice if I would be willing to be his eyes until he catches a tricycle home.

Opo naman, kuya.

He placed his hands on my tired shoulders. His hand felt distracting, but at the same time relieving. Each and every step of his was a small victory in my sight. Each obstacle we overcame was a deep relief on my part. I held his hand on my shoulder and told him that we were almost there. I did not let go of his calloused hand until he was carefully climbing the tricycle to bring him home.

As I walked another distance, my shoulder felt light. The blind man was no longer holding it. Each and every step I took meant nothing, and each obstacle I avoided gave me no relief. I placed my hand on my shoulder and felt an emptiness: nothing was there but the strap of my bag.

It was about that time that everything became clear. Or did it?



(Three hundred minus eighty-eight equals two hundred twelve.)

16 Factor Test Results

Cattell's 16 Factor Test Results Warmth |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86% Intellect ||||||||||||||| 42% Emotional Stability ||||||||||||||| 42% Aggressiveness ||||||||| 26% Liveliness |||||||||||| 38% Dutifulness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Social Assertiveness ||||||||||||||| 50% Sensitivity |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90% Paranoia ||||||||||||||| 46% Abstractness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78% Introversion |||||||||||||||||| 58% Anxiety |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82% Openmindedness ||||||||||||||||||||| 62% Independence |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86% Perfectionism ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Tension ||||||||||||||| 46%

Take Cattell 16 Factor Test (similar to 16pf)
personality tests by similarminds.com

THIS 071006

On each row place a letter which can be substituted for the fourth letter of the words either side to form two other words. When completed a type of bird will be read downwards. What is it?

FORGE BRINK
CHEAP GREET
FROST PLATE
SPECK BREED
CURVY SCALE
STARS PRESS


(Clue? "Food phobia")

Mensa Brainteaser 07/10/06

The Reality (Three Hundred Minus Fifty-six)

Becoming one with the masses who commute each and every day wasn't that difficult. You just have to do what they do and you'll be fine. You only need to climb the escalator leading to the train station with groggy eyes filled with the monotony of everyday life. You just need to hurry along, and push aside anyone who gets in your way. You push people, intentionally or unintentionally, as people push you aside as well. People push each other, like they're pushing their virtues aside just to board the train that could only fit less than a hundred. You just need to think like them: you need to get to work because you need to earn money, but the only thing is you don't have any salary in the company you're working for.

You arrive at your office, and fight to wake yourself up. The task drains every bit of energy you gathered in a five-hour sleep, leaving you as productive as a cat taking a nap. With the world slowly spinning to a messy, messy blur, your head intermittently falls idle which results in the obvious bobbing of your head, just like a chicken desperately pecking the ground for any kind of grub. The hours pass with you fighting yourself, with you almost losing to your very own self.

The monotony is just too cumbersome to bear. However, there are a few people who stood above the uniformity of office life. They, at some point in your stay, are slowly becoming more than just a superior in the office. The thought gives you the faculties you need to make the push until 5:23 pm. You rush the big office floor to the reception to log out and press the call button to descend nine floors. Finally, another office day has passed. Finally, you are home bound, free from all the conformity you need to distort yourself to. You feel how nice the cool air is. Even if the skies look bleak and depressed, your hopes flicker a small ember of peace that after nine hours, you're out of the office. The air gently kissing your face was a testament to that, and it fed the small ember the fuel it needed to become a small, warm fire.

But as you step inside the bus to take you home, you meet the same people in your department. However, they are different. You try to muster a shy smile, however, they do not respond. They just look forward and gaze into an invisible reality, with their eyes welling up with the monotony of their life.