I could not keep still. Had anyone passed, I'd immediately flick my head their direction, hoping for a figure I could recognise. I wasn't sure of where I was, and I'd hoped that I'd got the right meeting point. My legs jittered under the wooden table; at one point my leg bounced so high that it lifted up the table slightly with a bang. That was going to leave a bruise. I continued to search through the empty court, arguing against myself as to whether I was meant to be here, whether she was coming, how much she'd changed, if she still saw me as her best friend after all these years separated from each other. "Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ." The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.
"You're a Christian, aren't you, son?"
"Yes sir," the student says.
"So you believe in God?"
"Absolutely."
"Is God good?"
"Sure! God's good."
"Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?"
"Yes."
"Are you good or evil?"
"The Bible says I'm evil."
The professor grins knowingly."Aha! The Bible!"He considers for a moment."Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?"
"Yes, sir, I would."
"So you're good...!"
"I wouldn't say that."
"But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't."
The student does not answer, so the professor continues. "He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?" The student remains silent. "No, you can't, can you?" the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.
"Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?"
"Er...yes," the student says.
"Is Satan good?"
The student doesn't hesitate on this one. "No."
"Then where does Satan come from?"
The student says, "From...God."
"That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?"
"Yes, sir."
"Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?"
"Yes."
"So who created evil?" The professor continued, "If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil."
Without allowing the student to answer, the professor continues, "Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?"
The student says, "Yes."
"So who created them?" The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. "Who created them? There is still no answer.
Suddenly, the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.
"Tell me," he continues on to another student. "Son, do you believe in Jesus Christ?"
The student's voice is confident, "Yes, professor, I do."
The old man stops pacing. "Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?"
"No sir. I've never seen Him"
"Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"Have you ever actually felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelled your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't."
"Yet you still believe in him?"
"Yes."
"According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?"
"Nothing," the student replies. "I only have my faith."
"Yes, faith," the professor repeats. "And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith."
The student stands quietly for a moment before asking a question of his own. "Professor, is there such a thing as heat?"
"Yes," the professor replies. "There's heat."
"And is there such a thing as cold?"
"Yes, son, there's cold, too."
"No, sir, there isn't."
The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested.
The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. "You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise, we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat, we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it."
There's silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer. "What about darkness, professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?"
"Yes," the professor replies without hesitation. "What is night if it isn't darkness?"
"You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?"
The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. "So what point are you making, young man?"
"Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed."
The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. "Flawed? Can you explain how?"
"You are working on the premise of duality," the student explains. "You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it."
"Now tell me, professor, do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?"
"If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do."
"Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?"
The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.
"Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist but a preacher?"
The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.
"To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean." The student looks around the room. "Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?"
The class breaks out into laughter.
"Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelled the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir. So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?"
Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.
Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. "I guess you'll have to take them on faith."
"Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life," the student continues.
"Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?"
Now uncertain, the professor responds, "Of course, there is. We see it everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil."
To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light."
The professor sat down.
"You make me want you."
I'm sure everyone has heroes/heroines, inspirations, aspirations, role models or admirations, whether it be your best friend, leader, celebrity, parents, or even your pet. Heck, I'll even give you your favourite TV show. But I'm sure you get my drift, that everyone has someone or something that they look up to. But why? I'll tell you why.I sat so still, so emotionless; besides my eyes, which welled up with dirty tears. I felt so empty of liquid, so dry; it was as if someone had sucked all the water out of my body, taking care to make sure there was no way I could regain it.
I drank glass after glass of water, and lay back in bed. But sleep would still not come. I was awake for so long, and my body began to reject the water that I had only just consumed. Heat surged through my body; any single movement caused my body to begin sweating. I was uncomfortable where I lay, but I would not move. I was almost frozen with fear. My body's temperature continued to rise, as tears flowed down awkwardly by the side of my face.
I could barely manage to whisper, "God, I'm scared, God, give me peace, God, give me sleep, God what is wrong with me," all under one breath; I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, in hope to rid myself of my consciousness.
The alarm went off three times, and the light was switched on. I lay in the same position, but managed to cover my face with the untidy pile of blankets that I usually slept with. My body temperature was not cooling down at all, and I dreamt; I wished that someone would come into my room. I wished so much, I almost cried for someone to brush their cool fingers across my forehead and down my cheek, their croaky voice managing to make out some form of "It's going to be okay".
Thoughts ran through my head. Thoughts of not understanding, thoughts of restlessness, thoughts of being attacked. I hugged myself tighter, and my breaths were unnaturally shortened; I could almost not feel myself breathing anymore. Upon breaking a sweat, I pushed the blankets of my face. My head was throbbing. I stifled a sniff when the light was switched off again, and the front door swung open and closed.
My temperature was still warmer than usual, but sleep was finally coming to me. But now I needed to stay awake, or evidence of my sleepless night would be too obvious.
~~~
I could only so much as rest as soon as I first got into bed at about 12; and it's not until about now where I might actually be able to sleep.
I'm still scared, and my body's temperature is still quite high, but at least I'll manage to get about 2 hours of sleep.
"Thank you God for Your peace".
Sarah.
I could call myself mature, but then that would be a downright lie, because I still was so inexperienced with so many things, and still so cheekily willing to experiment with the unknown. I also wouldn't be humble in saying that I am mature either. I could call myself immature, but that would also be a lie, because then I'd be implying that I wasn't thankful for the talents that God had slowly molded and shaped for His glory. And I'd be proud in saying that I was immature, thinking that in saying that I was immature, I was being mature.
.. Well, you get the point.
---
Storytime!
I suck with imagination, so why not use real life instead? That's as imaginative as my writing can get. Aside from that other story of course... which was kinda creepy, I must admit. But all I really did for that was smoosh all the elements of reasons of murder and create a story out of it. Not so much descriptive... definately from a third-person point of view. Which obviously, I suck at now. But who cares? I get to write. And that's good enough for me.
Although now... the intricate detail that I put into my pieces, I think is too much. I don't even think that previous sentence made any sense... I just wanted to use intricate in something. That's my daily word for today. Intricate.... mmm.
I still like Derogatory though.
By the way, I've taken away names, to relieve suspicions, haha :D
---
I appraised the almost empty room, particularly towards the empty seats that were neatly lined up in an only slightly curved arc. In front of them were stands, only a few inches taller than the chairs, idly holding numbered folders that contained sheets of annotated sheet music. Walking in, I just about threw my bag on the ground, in front of a Torque, ignoring that it had my laptop in it, and placed my guitar case on the window sill. I opened the case, and the glint of the sun caught my eye on the black glossy surface my guitar. My baby guitar. It was one of the most precious things to me, but I had not been thinking by now. I took it up, taking the necessities (a lead, and my tuner, of course), and took my usual place next to my friend, another female guitarist.
However, as we set up, I could not help but think that this scene was different. Surely, everything was still in place, the rest of the chairs stacked, a stand rack at the corner of the room, Behringers and Torques all awkwardly spaced between the wall and the chairs. There were enough chairs for everyone there. But, oddly enough, not everyone was there. I hesitated to think that I would be, yet again, alone on the part I had to play. And right I was. However, that wasn't what worried me now.
My guitar sat loosely on my lap as I fumbled with the ends of the leads for the input on my guitar as well as my tuner. It would have been easier to actually look for the inputs instead of feeling for them, but I was too focused on my surroundings, and who has encompassed the spaces next to me. I eventually found the two holes anyway, and hastily and clumsily plugged my lead in. I began tuning.
I was in no mood to be properly tuning my guitar. I was too distracted by the person who was wrongly sitting next to me. I wasn't even meant to be sitting next to her (being one of the 3 guitarists who were female, including me) either, but I was intrigued at the seat that was taken not by who was usually there, but by him. I allowed my mind to wonder why, but I didn't get very far, as Sir interrupted my thoughts, confirming that my usual "part three partner" would not be here. Inside I groaned, knowing my emotions would get the better of me. I thanked God for my composed face, despite the panic and fumes of feverish heat under my cheeks.
After everyone got set up, he asked around for a pick, glancing around at the students present in the room. I looked down at my upside down guitar on my lap, and turned it around, revealing two picks cunningly slotted between the space between the humbuckers and their exterior border. I was reminded instantly of the week before, where I'd lent him one of my picks. I would have thought that he would learn to bring one to guitar ensemble now; I'd always had the feeling that he had a strong dislike for me. I did well to ignore him, and forgot to take my pick back at the end of the day. Luckily, I had other picks.
He was still looking for a pick by the time I'd finished ranting about him not bringing a pick, and took the thinner, yellow pick from inside the slot I'd cunningly used as a pick holder, and held it out for him. Hesitantly, of course. He looked at me (that made me flinch already), took the pick, and turned around, muttering a slight thanks. Just as I was about to turn around as well, he'd turned back to face me again, and I struggled to lift my already humiliated eyes to reach his face. It was normal for me to stare people in the eye when making conversation, even though it sometimes got awkward. Today it was awkward when I tried to look at him, and by then I hadn't realised that he was talking to me.
"Hey, are you sure I can?"
"Uh yeah..."
"Like, don't you need it?"
"Oh, uhh yeah, I have one already." I ran my fingers gingerly along the strings of my guitar, and found my second pick in the second humbucker slot. "Oh, okay thanks."
And he sat down next to me, and I was immediately thankful that we were half a metre apart. I couldn't stand being any closer than this. Not like that time in the canteen, where I was right behind him, and I had to turn my back to him just to keep myself from dying of embarrassment.. or something. I knew for a fact that I didn't like this person. He just intrigued me, I was sure that this was all it was.
And then Sir began us with our song, Knights of Cydonia by Muse. I played lead vocals. I thought it was pretty awesome, although when he stopped playing, I could not be sure, but I most definitely felt his eyes on me as I played the verse where he didn't play. My face started heating up feverishly again, and I was again thankful that my face showed such blankness and composure. He never smiled either; a blank look on his face, and wondering eyes. His face especially intrigued me also...
It was now that Sir decided to pick on me, just after I had played one round of the vocal soloing part as well as the supposedly background arpeggios. This is what he commented.
"X and "Y", you guys at the moment are way too loud, and you are overpowering Sar. However, you guys should be underneath her".
Scattered laughs came from the other students as I, for a split-second, in my heart nodded in agreement with Sir. Instantly, I glanced my friends' way, and met her cheeky gaze. She was giggling, her cheeky smile broad across her face. I could not comprehend the reason behind her smug face, until Sir had made a comment about students having dirty minds.
I instantly hung my head down, chuckling slightly. My eyes made towards the left, where he sat, chuckling also. I was embarrassed, and continued to play the song on cue...
---
By the way... This is exactly how I think, exactly how I relay the thoughts in my mind. So basicly, my mind tells me the story, and I just live it. Interesting huh? I don't know if you understand me, but doesn't matter, as long as the story is cool eh? Sorry that it might be boring...
LOL, Sarah.
