Wallpower

Sigh.

I was rinsing out my glass after having some strawberry soy milk and I remembered the Catholic retreat I had to go to in grade seven for a weekend. It was out in the middle of nowhere in an ex convent or private school, what's the difference really...

It was run by 3 creepy creepsters, one being 300 years old and stinky-Rex. His big deal was word art. Word art to inspire the love of Jesus. And not changing his clothes ever.

Bizarre rules were all over the place. No leaning against the wall. "Wallpower!", they would shout if they caught you doing it. Wallpower? Bloody hell. Unsaintly weakness, like wanting to rest your back since there are no goddamn chairs, will ultimately send you screaming and flaming to hell. How about Fuckyoupower.

Another useless rule was that you were not allowed to rinse your glass out to refill it. They served milk for all meals, and if you wanted water after, you had to drink milky water. Everyone knows a dirty glass with a blend of remnant liquids brings you closer to god than a clean one.

They kept you busy all day and night and made you get up at 6 in the morning. Not surprising that I've blocked most of it out of my memory, except the little bits that were more or less innocuous. Let's not even go into everyone sitting in a circle in the pitch black dark and passing a candle around while confessing a shame. Ok well, let's go into it a bit. I utilized cunning to avoid this "healing confession" by working with the dark. When the candle came 3 people away from me, I got up, moved to a part of the circle that had already had their turn, shoved myself between 2 people and threatened murder if they told on me. As for listening to kids helplessly confess their shames, I tried to just block it all out by singing Duran Duran songs in my head.

Did I mention how godawful the food was? It was godawful. Dishes called: "Teenager surprise." and the like. Things made with carob.

Not a word about anything that happened that week to anyone was mentioned by any of the kids in my class when we all got back to school the following week. Everyone just wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened. I could think of waaay better things to do with an empty convent. None of which would involve milk or stinky old men.