Monday, March 05, 2007

The Saints Mean Nothing

It was the most beautiful building that I had ever seen. Marble everything, the most beautiful windows and statues. It had this gorgeous silence (odd how silence can have beauty...). St Lucy's Church seems to reach the sky with it's scary pretty gorgoyals and domes and marble. It was the type of church I'd get married in. The sign says it is designed in French Gothic style. It's perfect. Pretty and perfect and breath taking. My Grandfather's church. he picked a good one. It's almost a privilage to stand in this place. My dad tries to ruin it by saying that the money could have gone to something good rather then building this doesn't matter. It's sad to leave it behind. I watch it from the car windows, trying to hold on to the image for as long as I can. I'm not sad because it's beautiful but because I wish that church ment something to me...I wish I could believe in what it teaches. I wish that I never lost faith, that I never saw the things that made me lose faith in the first place. I wish, that just this once, I could believe in the symbol of that breath taking church...that I could believe in something, anything...because if i could i might believe that everything would be alright.

-Keep The Faith

Faithless Viola

Sunday, February 18, 2007


Friday, February 09, 2007

The Sporking Of The Eyes

I have been conned into sharing my feelings with a group of people I really don’t know that well…. It’s like 40 minutes of hell. Someone up there really hates me. I NEVER expressed any desire to “share my feelings”. I was pressured. I was conned. I feel like a loser. A soft loser. A pansy. I am a pansy. It’s like torture. I hate. I hate it with a passion. I would rather have my eyes sporked out.

My eye sporking theory is that it is easiest to spork out an eye because you just have to stab and scoop rather the drill and chisel with a fork or knife. Disturbing, I know.

I’m trying to be like the squirrel…from the White Stripes song Little Acorns. It’s not working out so well. Its actually really really bad advice. Its shit advice really.

Do not take advice from songs. It will never end well.

I am planning a protest. There is a chance I may get suspended. Is it strange that I care for all the wrong reasons. I care about what my parents will think and it makes me want to do it to show myself that I don’t care and that I can stop being afraid of being in trouble. I can get in trouble every once in awhile. I think 16 years of trying to be perfect will make up for some rebellion and delinquency…that and its for a really good cause…my rights which I love and am always willing to defend. But am I really ready to take it to that level were it becomes huge and blown up? Can I stand my ground no matter how much trouble it gets me in?

Standing My Ground (or trying to anyways)- Viola

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Rest In Peace

It’s funny how the last time you see someone becomes etched into your memory. I can remember the last time I saw my uncle before he died. I can remember the last time I saw my Grandmother. I can remember these simple days when I had no idea that I would never see that person again. Knowing what I know now I would have said so many things to these people. .I would tell them that I loved them, that I was sorry that things turned out the way they did. I would remember exactly what they looked like and the way they talked. I would remember what they were wearing and how they wore their hair. You don’t think to yourself this is the last time I’ll ever see this person. You don’t think, “I better say a really great goodbye because It’s the last time I’ll talk to so and so.” You don’t stop and think about how much your going to miss their presence no matter how small. Believe me, when you get that dreaded call in which some unsympathetic relative who you’ve never met tells you that someone you loved, someone who was in your blood died, you will wish that you could talk to that person one last time. There is no such thing as closer. You will always think about things you could have done or said. You will always remember how that person died alone or in pain. In truth, closer is a lie we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better. We don’t want to think about this deceased person after they are buried. After the funeral, we want to forget. So we perform some warped burial service in which no emotion is shown so that we can wipe the dirt off of our hands and say, “so that’s that.” Closer is a joke, a sad excuse for what closer should be. The writers of 6 Feet Under were smart people. They get what closer really is. Closer is screaming and crying until you pass out. Yes…that is closer.

Still Looking For Some Closer-Viola

Friday, December 01, 2006

The Bright Side: So Bright It's Blinding

The bright side? Well, I was completely left out of the play, I have a crush on a gay guy, my mother is moving into an apartment owned by my dad and his girlfriend…really, must I go on. There is no bright side. The bright side has gone cloudy and I forgot my umbrella. Yes, that’s correct my friends. I have given up. Apparently there is someone up there who really, really hates me and is going out of his/her way to make my life a living hell in which I will gain nothing, have nothing, and, due to the play audition results, be nothing. I am officially just a smart girl. That’s it. When someone describes me….I am smart. No and, no but. Just smart. Smart and the only competent person in my lab group because apparently no one other then me knows how to use a scale. I give and give and give and what do I get back? A call sheet without my name on it. You want to know the really sad part: I actually planned the rest of my year around these stupid, frigging play practices that I can’t take part of because, apparently, I suck. So yes, I have given up on the bright side and my bet is that if you had a crush on a gay guy you would too. Yes, you would be suffering from a seething rage that is so intense you want to stalk right in and beat the living crap out of the producers of your high school’s idiotic and poorly casted production of West Side Story because deep down you really thought you had a chance of being casted, even if only for ensemble. So yes I have officially moved over to the dark side because at least over there, they have cake.

Card Carrying Member of the Dark Side- Viola

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

6 Things I Would Love To Say To Kristen

  • I do not care about your problems. Just because I'm in Peer Leadership does not mean I want to hear about your cousin breaking her spine.
  • I do not have time for whinning, pathetic liars. Get a life. Go away.
  • Most of the time, when you talk, I don't really listen.
  • Putting up with you does not mean that I am your friend.
  • When I hit the ping pong ball over your head, it means I'm trying to distract you from talking. Take a hint.
  • When I go through long periods of time without speaking, I'm invisioning shooting you with a taser gun.

Day Dreaming About Slapping People- Viola

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Viola The Pessimist

I am a very negative person. I’m the first to admit that I am a pessimist (hence the title). However, in my defense, look at the world today. How can you not be a pessimist? It’s fairly obvious that we are losing Iraq. Headline: Insurgents Gun Down 21 in Iraqi Village. Everyday the headline read 21 killed, 30 killed, 200 killed. More and more people are dying and we are listening to a man who wants to stay the course and thinks that everyone hates us because of our freedom. No, they hate us because of the president. The truth, the sad truth, is that our country is in the pits. There is no longer a government for the people elected by the people. We have a mass voting scam, Republicans that are only for rich, white people and Democrats who are no longer what any sane person would consider liberal. Our Democrats are the new Republicans. Face the facts. In today’s world, it’s better to be a pessimist because it seems that pessimists really see what is going on.

Pessimistically Yours-Viola