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I was talking with a collague yesterday and lamented how I am seriously deprived of time for myself. I don't get enough 'personal quality time' to enjoy life, let alone to sit back and unwind. Work is piling up, other things annoy, bottom line I really felt that fate has mistreated me.

He said, "You know, time exists only in our frame of mind. It doesn't really exist. It's there because you think about it, because you oogle at it, because you feel its presence and worse, fear it."

I said, yyyeeeaaahhh... (well actually it made a lot of sense for me at that moment) But then I thought again, we live with other people and interact with those people. I might be able to get rid of the time inside my mind, but what about the time inside my boss's mind? Inside my clients'? Inside my friends'? Inside my parents'? Inside everyone else's I make contact with? I alone can't fully eliminate the presence of time. Everybody else has to concur in the effort or it'd be a lost cause. I didn't invent this device called 'time', I never even agreed to its creation, and yet I got sucked into it, gets enslaved by it, bent and broken by it. How come? Ancient people define time generally through the sun's positions during the day, but modern people count it by the minute, break it down to nanoseconds, and treat it like it's some sort of ultimate governing system that applies to everyone, wherever and whoever they be.

It's really astounding what people (unconsciously or not) do to limit themselves when all they do is yearn for freedom O_o

(i'm just writing to rant. pay no attention.)
My dog died this afternoon. He'd been with the family for over 17 years and it's probably a good time for him to resign from this shitty world and go to a much better place, a dog heaven if there was one, and enjoy a life free from leashes and tiny fenced lawns. He was a good dog, a good friend, a member of the family, and remained a true sentry until his last breath.

So long, Old Timer. Gonna miss you.
I would attempt a -complete- analogy for this entry, so i guess very few people would understand what I'm talking about.

In the fantasy world, in the land of make believe, a young apprentice, freshly had-picked by the master from his home village, is ordered to go on a journey towards apprenticeship and adulthood by his master. For this formidable quest, the master gives him the simplest tool possible to make ends meet: a wooden stick. He whines to his master about his feeble weapon, but the master insists that he must learn the basics first before he could wield a real sword and sends him on his way. The older apprentices jeer at him with their practice swords raised, and with a sinking heart, the young apprentice accepts his fate and leaves.

So, with the wooden stick given to him by his master, he goes on a journey that lasts for many years, defeating some meager bullies and tiny monsters he could beat up with his stick in order to gain much-needed practice experience at first. In time, the apprentice grows more and more attached to the stick, and his skills grow also until he learned to do unimaginable things with the stick, things that plain fellows with a stick could never do. He fights wild behemoths with that stick, free empires with that stick, and even win the heart of a fair maiden with it. (wonder how. *smirk*)

The apprentice is now, after years and years of practice, has became well-loved and renowned on the land for his unwavering valor and the uncanny--though a bit strange on the side--skill of stick-fighting, and as he returned, glowing with victory, the master decides that it's time to bestow the apprentice the title of a knight. But a knight naturally wields a sword, and as the master tells him that, the apprentice insists that there's actually no need for a sword, since he could go by perfectly without one. He has even gained respect from fellow apprentices and knights regarding his unusual abilities, so if he could fight with a stick as well as his sword-swinging friends, why bother?

So, the stick-swinging knight lives day by day in calm ignorance, still using the stick for a living, until one day, his fair maiden asks him to bring her a dragon's heart from a faraway island for her ailing mother. The knight sets off and easily beats the dragon dead with the stick. But when he pauses to get hold of the heart, he realizes that all he has with him is a stick, and the dragon's scales are much too tough for a mere stick to stab through. But with undaunted determination, the knight starts doing everything he can with the stick to get through to the heart.

Days and even weeks passed, and he's finally able to claim the unbeating heart to take back to his beloved. But when he's gotten home, he finds the maiden already married to another knight, a sword-wielder at that, who had been dispatched for another dragon's heart when the maiden thought our knight would never return.

Angst and regret filled the knight's heart as he realizes that as painful as it was, he needs a sword! Sure, he can fight as well as the other knights because it has taken so long for him to master the zen of the stick, but there are just some things that only a sword can do, and the bitter truth is that there are still too many limitations when using the stick. The sword is certainly cooler, sharper, it cuts through just about anything and in a wide variety of cases, it does things a lot easier than the stick. So our knight stares for a very long time at the wooden stick in his hands and finally decides,

he needs a sword.