The memory is fine. The processor isn’t working anymore. I don’t know why.
Maybe, the processor is having difficulties to prioritize the task fed to it. If you have read the introduction to computer architecture and how scheduling works, surely you would know why.
I ran diagnostics. The memory isn’t full, technically, is almost full but the processor seemed not having any workload. I wonder why. Now my work is being postponed again until I figure this one out.
Hold on. Is this about your computer’s memory and processors, because as far as I know, you have dual processors configuration with massive memory and I/O and no way that gargantuan system fails, or is it your own memory and processing power?
The song still remains. Between lyrics, one’s mind would wander through daily noise and look for a piece, a sequence that would bring contentment. Nightfall didn’t stop the iteration and at times it became even faster.
As one climbed the roof while holding a coffee, one unconsciously began to question things to which one had already known the answer. It’s crazy how one would expect the different answer by asking the same questions. Eyes gazed upon the moon and somehow the mind started to tone down. It came to conclusion.
It had been nice while silence was the synonym of serenity. And then, what if the same thing didn’t work anymore? What if quiet night wasn’t the calming factors anymore? What if the sounds of reality was the source of comfort?
In response to late Silent.
If the same route has been passed again and again, how would one navigate to another route while maintaining the same destination? Different route leads to different landscapes and scenes which would please one’s senses. Different experience would lead to expanding one’s horizon and thus enrich one’s view. A compass would make sure the steps taken always lead to the same destination.
Of life, if only the same principle would be just valid. If only.
In response to Compass.
In response to Ascend.
Who would’ve thought that watching too many dramas could affect mind’s functionality?
One had surely thought that binge-watching would be interesting and left nothing of curiosity because delayed episodes. But after hours of filling one’s mind with scripts and imaginary sequence of foreign life, would one’s mind stay the same? Or’ would its ability to work be influenced by those scenes?
One should really question the hidden message conveyed the writer through the actors/actresses.
Reunion was supposed to be fun activity. It was if you weren’t seeing you partner of crime walking his new associate followed by evil minions; or, titles spread accross the hall by name card; or, cars so big and polished you had to park your old bike somewhere distant, and told your colleagues that you didn’t get suitable parking slot.
It was supposed to engaging conversation if you had the same shoes but you didn’t. All you heard were projects foreign to your knowledge, implying how low your horizon was. You didn’t reckonize the music because all you thought that day was a way of talking with your classmates without being too hideous.
What about those little rascals? Weren’t they cute? Look at those tiny hands and feet.
Either beautiful lady, or handsome gentlemen, was expected to be walking down beside you from the entrance to main hall. No, you walked in, alone, while still wearing coat, hands still shaking because of the cold, and hair messed up by the dry, chilling wind. Even when you were about to shake hands, you began to worry if your friends would feel the stiffness of your palm.
Dinner time couldn’t be more evil. Several tables were prepared for main course, some for entree, a few for beverages, and some for dessert. This was the time you had a meaningful conversation but, no, you couldn’t. Why was that?
Life you had been dealing with was, no way, not meaningful. But how would people react to those things? You had your share of experience when telling people the tale of dull people, working from one job to another just to barely meet the essential. You wouldn’t want that to happen again.
You wanted to get out but there was no one home yet. So, you decided to do something that would allow you to escape early: lying. Cheap bastards.
Hey, it’s me. May I come over? I was at the reunion. Yes. There is nobody home yet so I’m thinking to stop by for an hour or two, if that’s possible, of course.
After several shouting on the phone because of the background music and loud chatters, you started to take out your gloves, keys, and wear your jacket again. Mere hours felt like centuries.
Yeah, sure. Let me know if you’ve arrived. The gate should be unlocked as always. But should it be locked, you know the drill. See you then.
It was always easier to face windy road than warm people. You exited the building after saying that you had stuff take care, that you were sorry to leave early, etc.. You walked far enough to realize that the light, from where the reunion was held, seemed small. The sound from the building was also completely off.
You started your bike and rode away. Fifteen kilometres to go was written on your phone GPS. Rain and wind were forecasted to fall that night. But, you knew, it had always been better.
Time was surely funny. At some point it gave a sign that it’d be best to just seize the moment, or act randomly, or be adventurous. But at times it also gave a bad timing.
Hey. No, don’t. Please. At least let me finish what I’m about to say.
Okay. What’s up?
Well, what I’m about to say was that I’m sorry for what happened years ago. I lose count ever since. It’s been long since we met, I mean, since we had reunion. I was wondering, since you’re here and not bringing anybody, and I’m alone in this crowd. I thought of asking you, if that’s okay, to have a cup of coffee after the reunion. Or stay for a while for dinner, maybe. I don’t know. It’s just that I would like to talk to you, for old time’s sake.
Old time was a sequence one might cherish or regret. For some reasons, people toast over the good ones and mourn for the bad ones. Then came the moment when some people want to dine over those which should have been forgotten. Another trip down to memory lane wasn’t always a useful idea.