Sacrilege!!!

I know this is quite possibly not the best way to begin a blog, but right now all I can see is red, and all I can feel is a deep desire to murder a certain nun.
For reasons quite obvious, I cannot reveal her name or the instituition I'm studying at, but for want of some sort of introduction, I should point out that I'm studying away from home, in a school run by nuns, and I'm living on campus, which decidedly complicates things and makes for loads of run-ins with said nuns.

The nun I am currently referring to is the warden of my hostel, whom we shall call The Horse, because that is exactly what she reminds me of. Although I do believe horses have better teeth.

Anyway, as a Catholic, I am required to attend Mass every Sunday and Thursday(yes, Thursday, and no, there is no logical reason for this), as well as say the Rosary in the chapel with all the other Catholic girls EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Well, sinner that I am, I didn't wake up in time for mass this Sunday(6:30 in the morning people!!!). Naturally, the Horse noticed. She always notices when I'm not there.
And so I was summoned to her room, stumbling in with my sweater on, wearing a muffler and my sunblock lip balm(makes my lips look as white as Andrew Symmonds' during an ODI), and talking in the croakiest voice I could muster. Of course, I was faking sick - something that could have worked rather well, since when she made her rounds the previous night I was faking sick too, to avoid having to deal with her.

Except on Sunday morning, when I told her I wasn't feeling well, she said, "So?"
Her royal Horsiness went on to say that I should have informed her that I was not feeling well and that I wouldn't be attending Mass(yeah, like I have bell boys at my beck and call) and that I should keep my lame excuses to myself. She decided that she wanted to speak to my local guardian about me, and that she'd like to speak to my mother as well.
Then she made me write in The Warning Book, which is this pathetic notebook she owns and in which she makes us write things like,
I, Naomi, have disobeyed the rules of the hostel by not having attending Mass on Sunday the 7th of December 2008. I am aware of the rules of the hostel, and any failure to follow them henceforth shall lead to my leaving the hostel.
And then she made me sign it.
I nearly pointed out the fact that I am seventeen, and thus, a minor, which makes all contracts within the state null and void since I cannot be held legally responsible for anything I have signed.
I didn't actually tell her that, though.
She was angry enough as it is, and ordered me to attend mass everyday for the next one week. Bitch, I know.

So I went for Mass this morning, pleased with myself for having made it on time(all thanks to my friend M, who has just started her own blog too, and who rudely woke me up by banging on my door). What I did forget was the Rosary after dinner.
And of course, the Horse did note my absence, and when she came on her rounds she got started on me again. I swear, I have never wanted anything to explode more than I wanted her head to at that moment.

Sadly for me, her head did not explode and I was forced to listen to her go on and on about what a terrible Catholic I am, and how there is no point in me staying in the hostel since I cannot incorporate Catholic values into my life, and how they may as well take someone else in my place, and how I come up with lame excuses.
Going into the details of her tirade would only anger me more, and perhaps cause me to break things, so let's just say that I tried very hard not to listen, saying only the occasional "yes" and "no" and forcing my mouth to stay shut, lest the words, "Fuck you sister" come out of it.

Honestly, who does she think she is?
What kind of Christian judges other fellow Christians? What gives her the right to tell me when I should or should not pray and where I should do it? What gives her the right to tell me I'm a "bad" Catholic and that I should atone for my sins?
It's not like the hostel is full of Catholics and I'm the only one who disobeys every rule. First of all, Catholics are a minority in the hostel. And secondly, I'm not the only one playing up.

I suppose she thinks she's some kind of a saint.
Well she can't be one just yet, although I 'd LOVE to help her become one. I'd put all my efforts into it, really, I will.
Because you see, all the saints are DEAD.