Sins of the Past

Wrong deeds gave birth to different kind of taste but it always had the same after taste, the bitter. The implications were severe and long-lasting. One deed done in whatever name you believed, turned into something grave and somehow endanger people.

The thing about wrong deed is that they have been done, one way or another, be it intentional or not, be it consciously or not. The result is there to fix and somebody has to make sacrifice to restore the balance between the present and the past. Our present is a result of our and our fathers’ past.

It is true that sons always have to bear the sins of their fathers, that sons always have to clean up after their fathers. Complaining won’t do necessary repair as much as silence. The destiny of sons isn’t, and never was, any easy. It’s easy when they abandon their duty but the consequences are heavy. Nobody knows whose time is up first.

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When Two, or more, Become One

Supposedly, one should’ve been writing a fix for several bugs about faulty architecture. In this case, as the one who was tasked to design the architecture, one failed to capture the possibility to expand the architecture without risking the integrity of existing design. Here was the thought.

One considered first that the structure should be divided into several smaller parts in order to delegate the parts to different teams. Such plan was agreed since there was no more head around to add different opinion. One main structure was to be the head and several structures became the derivative. The problem came from the unexpected party.

What if the future requires me to attach new, different data into the structure? Would it be as easy as adding the slot and be done with it? Or does the structure would require me to rewire the existing connections?

The question hit one hard, forcing one to draw back from the front line.

Later, at one night, one sat in front of a table with mind ready with an idea from a friend. Develop one big structure to contain all data and a few small structures to contain the description. That being said, the first thing to do was to merge current structures into one structure. Since merging would compromising the old structures, one would need to volunteer oneself to also merge the existing data.

The next steps would be defined later in proper appointment.

When The Processing Fails

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?

Hindered Thought

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.

Far Reunion

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.

Old Time’s Sake

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.

One Way

One said the family that one has chosen what one would like to do. Consequences, one said, have been considered and never again should be bothered, so one’s thought. Cold dinner was the only silent witness while night breeze pushed its way between tight fiber of thick jacket. Over a cup of coffee, one said

I’ve thought that thoroughly and, again, it seems that nothing’s changed. I couldn’t.

His partner sat in front of him paying close attention to his surrounding. The random moment with one of his teammate during storm, now talked like common people, about slice of life, about untold ballads of people’s heart, and unsung melodies buried deep under one’s mind.

Have you talked to that person?

He responded with smile. That kind of smile.

I think I did and you’ve already known the result, haven’t you?

The case wasn’t uncommon. The experience he had been having wasn’t rare, in fact it was everywhere and some people chose not to bother. Reasons they might have would be around money, castes, time frame, and social status. Those things bother people so much. So much some people chose not to touch the subject and let them be. It was served cold or not at all.

Being human was it by being affected by such emotions, behavior, and materials. Even then storm was coming again and he had to cast aside his human form. He knew it was tearing him but if he was asked, he always answered

That is what makes me human. Even if it is painful, at least I remembered what it feels to be human.

Sunset came. He stood up and wore his thick mantle again. So much for people like him. Time is cruel for not letting him move back even once. He could fix his old mistakes, mistakes that he had to make. But it became impossible since he always carried his old sword on his journey as sole remembrance of his faults. The ticket we had wasn’t for a round trip. It had always been one way ticket.


An attempt to write on One Way.