My sister's friend's class. The friend was fortunately on maternal leave. She's supposed to return to school in four months time. I don't think so.
A schoolmate of the shooter had went to the police to tell them take the guy's firearms licence off of him after he showed them the YouTube videos. The police chief it wasn't necessary. Guess who will be torn apart in the internet discussion forums and on the newspapers?
My little brother's class (high school) was having lunch in the nearby junior high cafeteria. They got a call from the headmaster to leave it and return immidiately to there school. They were locked up there for two hours.
"Three in the prize of one: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit."
"The Pearly Gates Pizza Perfetto: choose the teachings you like and enjoy! Don't forget to spread the word to all your mates!!!"
The God that Christians believe in is schizophrenic, not only physically but mentally as well. There are people out there who consider the Bible to be the word of their God, His genuine and perfect will. Whatever is written in the Bible is correct. All Christians who believe this of the Bible must therefore be either schizophrenics or ignorant. The so-called Good Book is full of paradoxes. God gives the Ten Commandments and strikes down the Tower of Babel giving people numerous languages so they can no longer co-operate (and did a good job at that, I might add). Love your enemies but throw women to men to be raped to death to protect your male guests ("but hey, women aren't me enemies, they're me servants; I mean, you're not gonna tell me to bugger off if I sell some other piece of furniture, are ya?").
I am a perfect Christian. I cite the Scripture and the lines that fit my view of the world and then preach my truth even–or perhaps especially- to those who don't want to hear it.
-----
"I hate God. I hate whatever made this world, I hate whatever made the human race, made men like Caliban possible and situations like this possible.
If there is a God he's a great loathsome spider in the darkness.
He cannot be good.
This pain, this terrible seeing-through that is in me now. It wasn't necessary. It is all pain, and it buys nothing. Gives birth to nothing.
All in vain. All wasted.
The older the world becomes, the more obvious it is. The bomb and the tortures in Algeria and the starving babies in the Congo. It gets bigger and darker.
More and more suffering for more and more. And more and more in vain.
It's as if the lights have fused. I'm here in the black truth.
God is impotent. He can't love us. He hates us because he can't love us.
All the meanness and the selfishness and the lies.
People won't admit it, they're too busy grabbing to see that the lights have fused. They can't see the darkness and the spiderface beyond and the great web of it all. That there's always this if you scratch at the surface of happiness and goodness.
The black and the black and the black.
-- It's as if I can't feel any more. I see, but I can't feel.
Oh God if there is a God.
I hate beyond hate."
It's been a while since my last posting, hasn't it? I've been relatively busy with tutoring and with university. I just came back from an exam, which against all odds, I might pass, which in turn means that I don't have to go through the same course for the third time, which means that I'm now two courses short of getting my Bachelor's degree!
- - - - -
Apart from studying to a seemingly unbeatable examination, I have also been building up my gradu panic which has now attained astronomical levels. By 'astronomical' I don't of course mean that it's *that* important; it's not. It's the panic part that's getting out of hand. I'm not afraid of writing the thesis: that's going to be the easy part. What I do fear is the selection of the subject. You see, it's not only the grade that will be in the final record but the title of the thesis as well. And with this record I am supposed to apply for work. Hence, the title (and therefore the subject) is supposed to have certain requirements filled before I start writing anything. The subject is supposed to be up to date in order to be taken seriously and to have some kind of prestige and so that the thesis will appear to be worth something. The subject is also to be preferably media sexy (to get the study some attention amongst all the other theses) and it should be possibly provocative (for standing out, as well as to create conversation within the academic circle close to me, that is supervisor and the department staff etc.). The subject should also be something I find interesting myself. The subject is to also be something I can develop further one way or another in my forthcoming lisenciate thesis, perhaps also in the doctorate (becoming a PhD is the highest accomplishment I can achieve, so I thrive for that; and if I'm going to bind the Master's thesis somehow to the doctorate, the subject should be something that can be taken seriously and something that gives me prestige as an expert in that particular area). What else should the subject be? A lot of things, I'm sure, but right now I'm out of options. But don't worry, I'm sure I'll come up with a dozen qualities more during the weekend. But as a conclusion: THE SUBJECT SHOULD BE BLOODY GOOD!!!
- - - - -
On Thursday I had a relatively bad day and I ended up neglecting my cool exterior by having an argument with a male exchange student. He was looking for the Student Union premises and I happened to be one he encountered. I agreed to show him the place as I had to go there myself anyway in fifteen minutes time. All would have been well if he hadn't started asking my place of residence and my name and my e-mail address and so on. Plus he had -as most exchange students tend to have- a very uncomfortable way of coming very close to me and what's worse, touch me. I think I told him twice not to touch me before he got it. Anyway, he asked if we could be friends and I right away told him that unless you're gay, the answer is no. I ended up ranting and raving about why I don't want to be friends with men. He just couldn't see my point, but I suppose he -like other men- are raised in a way it's impossible. Now his talking to me every time he sees me. He just won't get the word no. Next time I think I may end up shouting at him and making a scene with the worst kind of sarcasm I can come up with. Perhaps he will then get my point.
