Sections (Long).

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.

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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

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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...

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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.