Chapter 2 — Wishful Thinking
High school’s a slog.
Boring classes with teachers I’ve known since elementary school, homework that takes hours to finish but don’t really complete me the way I complete them.
AP English class with Mr. Reed is the best part of my day. Not only is it my favorite subject, it’s also scintillating in the way most other subjects aren’t. Math is boring, too many calculations, science is just pure memorization, and gym is just sweat and tears.
History’s all right. Can’t complain about diving deeper into why the Civil war shouldn’t have happened.
We’re studying Russian literature this semester. We just finished reading Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy as well as the mammoth epic War and Peace. Tolstoy’s books, as well as books by any Russian literary figure, are long and prosy, and are too hard to read.
Well, too hard to read for the average high school student.
Not me.
My dad taught me how to read when I was 2 years old. Tracing letters in the soil, he guided my tiny hands. Teaching me the letters of the world and of the heavens.
On Saturdays, my dad led us in Bible Study. Going through the New Testament and delving into the life of Jesus was how we bonded as a family. When my dad died, things fell apart.
Addie and Brad are too busy with school and extracurriculars to bother with going to church and bible study, or so they say. Constantly making excuses for not pursuing faith, they have fallen in the trap of secularism. A trap that many Christians have fallen into, drawn by peer pressure and social media trends.
Mom and I are the only ones who really study the Bible anymore. But we study it separately. Sometimes I hear her crying in her bedroom, missing Dad.
I don’t cry anymore. Tears don’t bubble to the surface anymore, and even if there was a purpose to the pain, tears wouldn’t subdue it.
“Sarah Lee? Can you answer the question?”
I lift my head up from my hand.
“Sorry Mr. Reed, can you repeat the question?”
“Yes, what is the significance of Macbeth’s soliloquy in Act 5?”
I glance at the book in front of me.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Sometimes I feel like I’m walking shadows, comprised of nothing but darkness and dusk . An actor moving to the motions of my God, pivoted there, juxtaposed here, and in the moment, I’m playing a part in the grand scheme of things.
All my yesterdays led me to today, but do they mean anything but leading to my eventual death? Everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind, a blight of storm, with the curse humanity descending upon us.
The sound and fury? Macbeth is an empty shell, led by his emotions full of darkness, leading him to acts of sin and tragedy, rebelling against his Creator. This led to his fall.
He gave into the void, devoid of humanity, devoid of a greater purpose above himself.
To give into the void means dusty death, a dearth of eternity, a blight of the light.
I stop my soliloquy to the classroom by closing my edition of Macbeth with a flourish and stare at my notebook in front of me. I’m not much for attention, but I like sharing my thoughts to the world around me.
Mr. Reed smiles at me.
“That’s a unique interpretation of this passage, Sarah Lee, and it’s primed by your Christian leanings, I see. Excellent.”
He would know. Mr. Reed is the most Christian teacher in this school, and that’s saying a lot, because I know of only one person in the school who’s not Christian, and that’s the janitor. Mr. Reed’s the son of a pastor, and he’s the editor of the town’s Breaking Soil newspaper. A newsletter that details the town’s church events, devotionals, and prayer and praise. It also offers a lot of opinion pieces on the state of the world today. I write it for it sometimes.
The bell rings, and Mr. Reed walks to the front of the classroom.
“All right everyone, see you tomorrow. Just a reminder, your essays on Macbeth will be due next week, so remember to hand in your outlines by the end of the week to your writing partner.”
Christine leans over and says, “I still haven’t even started brainstorming yet. How far are you in?”
I pack my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I already finished my outline for the Macbeth essay, and I just need Christine to read it over.
Christine Ryder is not only my writing partner but also one of my few best friends in this school.
Christine Ryder and I were friends since we were 5 years old since Sunday school. We shared a lot of good times, hunting Easter eggs, sharing Bible verses, and attending church together. I remember one time when we were 7 years old, we were competing who would get the most easter eggs and at the very end of the race, Christine pushed me and all my eggs broke. And then I pushed her back, and all HER eggs broke.
It was a stalemate. No one won in the end, but we got to stay friends, and isn’t that what counts?
Christine’s also in a lot of my AP classes, so I see her around a lot. This invites a lot of cognitive dissonance in my head, seeing her both at church and at all my advanced academic classes. But hey, wasn’t Jesus a Teacher too?
Mr. Reed looks up from his book. “Sarah Lee! I’d like to speak to you about something.”
I gulp. He’s going to talk to me about the essay contest, I just know it. It’s surprising that I don’t know something in this school, but maybe the teachers were purposely keeping this news from me.
“Sarah Lee, I have amazing news. There’s a nation-wide essay competition for The New York Times, and you’ve been chosen by our school as a contestant.”
He hands me a piece of paper.
I skim it over in a couple of seconds.
This content’s right down my alley. The title of the contest is called “Self vs Society”. The topic is on the tension between self and society and the manifestation of it in the world we live in today. I have a whole lot to say about that.
I live in a mostly Christian community, but occasionally I visit big cities like Chicago, Boston, and New York when my family and I go on vacation. And it’s completely different in these cities with so much secular influence that it’s appalling.
I know immediately what I want to write about for this essay.
I look up at Mr. Reed expressionless, trying to hide my giddiness and succeeding.
“I’d be more than happy to participate in this contest, Mr. Reed. I’m honored to have been chosen.”
Mr. Reed pats me on the back and gives me a thumbs up.
“I’m looking forward to your submission, Sarah Lee. And good work in class today! See you in CCC after school.”
He leaves me to go back into the classroom, and I stuff the essay contest guidelines into my backpack.
CCC’s the Christian Council Club at my school. I’m president of it and have been since freshman year of high school. We meet three days a week to discuss Bible study, community events, and we also volunteer on weekends at homeless shelters and soup kitchens.
We also have book of the month where we (meaning I) choose a book that’s centered around Christian faith and discuss it during club meetings. Right now we’re reading Soul Care by Dr. Rob Reiner, and it’s been enlightening.
Today we’re going to be talking about repentance and breaking out the cycle of shame, which is kind of a touchy topic, and I’m glad we’re going to be opening up about it in a group setting. We don’t talk about repentance at church, it’s the pink elephant in the room.
I can’t wait for after school.
But first.
I need to find Brad.
I have a free period after English class, and while I usually spend it at the school library, today I’m going to be helping Brad out with one of his pet projects. He’s been bugging me about it for ages. I don’t really have that much time as I am in my junior year and will be applying to colleges next year, and this year is about juggling my AP classes along with my extracurricular activities.
Which consist of being editor of the school newspaper, CCC, town chief resident baker, and a few more that I don’t want to disclose as of right now.
I’ve finally relented to Brad though. He’s been down about losing his robotics competition at states, and that along with all the drama with Addie has made him a ticking bomb. And I should defuse this bomb, and if this is the cross I need to take, then so be it.
I take the stairs and head down to the cafeteria. Greeting the lunch ladies, I take my baked goods out of the fridge.
This occasion calls for cake.
Specifically, a German chocolate coconut cake with chocolate buttercream frosting and toasted coconut flakes and almond pieces.
I take a picture of it with my iPhone and consider posting it on my Instagram. I think I’ll save it for later.
Hoisting it carefully in my hands, I carry it to the chemistry lab. Entering through the double doors, I see Brad sitting on the lab bench, lab notebook in front of him, beakers of chemical reagents organized in a neat line on his table, and a frown on his face.
“Hey.”
I greet him.
He looks up and grimaces.
“What’s that?”
I grin and settle the cake on the main bench, away from his chemical toxins.
“A cake.”
He groans.
“Not this again. What is your obsession with cake and all things baking?”
“It’s not an obsession.”
“Yeah, it’s an addiction.”
“Not an addiction.”
“Then what is it.”
I sit down next to him.
“A business idea.”
He folds his hands in front of him.
“Sarah Lee, I did not call you here in order to discuss the baking business that you’ve wanted to start since you were ten years old and thought that baking meant stuffing my face into banana cream pie every pi day.”
I roll my eyes. That brings back memories.
“I brought you here, not to discuss YOUR business idea, but MY business idea.”
I lean my head on my hand, all ears.
“Which is.”
He pulls out a whiteboard from against his seat.
“I want to start a company.”
My mouth falls open.
“A Company?”
“Yes. A company.”
“Like a baking company, and you want me to bake for it.”
“No jokes Addie. It’s going to be a robotics company.”
“And what do you want me to do? Make a robot? Because I can’t code.”
“You can’t code, but you CAN sell. I want you to sell us.”
I frown. Selling like a salesperson isn’t my area of expertise. Selling with words however, and pictures, and music, (and baked goods) are though.
“I want you to direct a commercial.”
He gestures to the whiteboard in front of him, and I sit closer to him as I inspect the scrawls.
“My band’s going to be singing and it’s going to feature my robot. I want you to tell a story with words and cinema, a love story between me and my robot.”
Somehow, I’m not surprised.
“That’s going to be hard, Brad. Really hard.”
“But sure. I’ll do it.”
I can picture it already in my head.
Brad and his band, making love with their song, to a robotic muse that is unreachable yet tangible in space and time.
Pygmalion at his finest.
Let the angels weep, Brad. Your love might be unrequited, but at least you have me. And cake.
I hand him a slice of cake.
“Eat it. It’s good.”
-
Robots and companies and cake aside, I really need to get to my part time job.
I had CCC already. We discussed what it means to repent as a Christian, how to best do it, how to work around shame in our daily lives, and why Soul Care was the best book ever.
Wednesdays are busy for a reason. I have my part time gig to get to, which lasts until 9 in the night. Usually I would have spent my free period doing homework but filial duty called.
Now it’s time for music.
Clocking in at the radio station, I settle my bags down and head into the recording room. I nod to Tom, who’s on stand by today, and plop into the DJ seat.
I’m a DJ for my town’s local radio station. I usually get a lot of requests from fans for Brad’s band, and I feature a lot of his songs. But I often pull up a lot of pop songs, like Taylor Swift, and also a lot of Christian rock and pop, which is always a fan favorite.
Today though is special. I’m feeling uppity, and it’s time for an original.
By yours truly.
I pop in my recording CD for the day and wait for the clock to turn.
It’s 7pm on the dot.
I turn the mic on and turn it on a few notches.
“Hello everyone, this is Break Out Time and I’m your local DJ Sarah Lee. Hope I’m not the only one tired from the long work day behind us. Get settled in your couch and make yourself comfy in your PJs with some chips and guac or cake and beer, because it’s time for some hip music. First song of the day is an original by a local singer who wishes to remain anonymous, it’s called Wishful Thinking. Wish I could sing like her, here it is:”
It’s Saturday night and I haven’t got all night
To think about a guy who I know isn’t right
I wish there was someone out there for me
But I know that true love isn’t meant to be.
It’s sunday morning and I’m in the driveway,
Waiting for Jesus to take my wheel and highway,
I wish there was another route for me to take,
But I know that this isn’t a choice for me to make.
Wishhhhhful thinkinggggg,
I want to stop thinkinggggg
Wishfull thinkingggggggg
I can’t stop thinkingggggg
Tom gives me a thumbs up, nodding his head to my song.
I smile at myself and let the music go.
Now, it’s time for music.
And I can finally stop thinking.
