Google time and cooling off

I am still having a problem with my Google Account's time settings. I have set it to GMT +8 hours, Manila time. Google said that the changes were saved. I wonder why the time in my mail reads 15 hours late. Yeah, it is saved. But unrecognized.

Yes. 15 hours. late. (An update: Yeah, the time of posting has now changed. It varies now. But never correct.)

And the same goes for my Google Calendar, Google Talk and this blog.

So I will be adding the date and time that the entry is really finished and posted until I get a solution.

I have an issue with my first post: It is a .emo type of document. Don't interpret me as an emo type of person. I am not.



Or maybe...




heck...

And I had to walk my way to the flyover crying. It was lucky that it was dark. Yellow lamps and a few from closing stores were the only lights.

It is just that I can’t sleep without telling anyone about this. But I got no one. So it’s up to my heavy duty computer keyboard to get mashed.

This is the farthest that I can get from her. The feeling is a little hard to describe by itself. It is better to describe it by what it is not. It doesn’t feel empty. I don’t feel like breaking apart. I don’t feel certain but I don’t feel regretful at the same time.

All I know is that this distance I decided to place between us is to be measured by time. And time units used to measure the distance has always been the longest in all forms of literature. And so I am writing this.

I didn’t know how to call it. Break-up? No. Cool-off? I didn’t believe in the word cool-off when it comes to partnership. But then it has turned to the classical “atheist being face to face with God.” Nevertheless I faced it. And I never thought that I would initiate it. So I used the classical lines, “I need space…”

And so I’ve learned that I what I have learned is little still. And another lesson I need to know has this price. It is the price of a heart, not breaking, but being crumpled. It is not painful. But it is sad. You can follow a person miles away. But not a person a time away. Miles is a measure of length. Tangible. Time is dimensionless. Indefinite. And so I know that this time she cannot follow me even if I want to give her the opportunity of being the one to come to me. I started it. So it is up to me.

Nothing to expect from me. And I, nothing to expect from her.

But I told her that there is a thing that she should be expecting: I am coming back.

A home is not a place. It is a state. You’re not in it. It is in you. And so I’m just on a little walk. That’s all.

It was a sad embrace. It was not romantic. It was not hopeful. But certainly it is not empty. It has sense still strange to the both of us. And so my unclear style of writing is not at all a style in this document. Because I can’t describe what I feel of what it is. Because I described it of what it is not.

It is not a goodbye.

09/16/09 12:30p