Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Today after the ancient sports class I shall journey down the street to donate my magical, live-saving plasma. I need the cash.
Rebekah and I will meet over lunch to finalize plans for the holiday trip home. She will drive. I will sit in the passenger seat, making faces at passing drivers and squealing delightedly at every cow, oil derrick, and delapidated farmhouse. People often whine about road trips, but I tolerate them well, especially without stressed parents and obnoxious siblings to contend.
Over Thanksgiving break I lost two pounds. I hope all the people who have doting families gained what I lost. Zounds.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:01 AM]
Hooky
Monday, November 29, 2004
Seeking two degrees, I will graduate in 2010 (without taking any summer school). Up to a year could perhaps be shaved off if I take correspondence and summer courses. I decided I probably will not seek teacher certification- I would rather do research and attain the master's and doctorate degrees.
Amy returned yesterday shortly before midnight. I had felt certain she would simply not drive back. Next year she plans to transfer into the University of North Texas, which is far more exciting than the Tech hole.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:34 AM]
Frances Farmer
Saturday, November 27, 2004
For Thanksgiving linner I ate chicken parmigiano at IHOP. The waitress (a college girl) was nice and I, being imbued as I am with the holiday spirit, tipped her half. Every place else was closed, even the Asian establishments. But maybe next year I'll have whole duck.
After linner I returned to the empty dorm, blaring dark music as I tore my half of the room apart dusting and rearranging things. In August I stored all my books under the bed, but removed the photographs and miscellaneous items displayed on the shelves and placed approximately seventy books upon them. I know the number because I catalogued every book, with the exceptions of language books and dictionaries. This I did because, though I own many impressive books, I have not read several of them. I tend to stack things into piles that steadily accumulate and that never seem to erode until I knock them down altogether. I wish to read more, like I read almost effortlessly as a little kid.
Tonight marks the official beginning of my job-hunting phase, part nine hundred. I walked past three funeral homes and several attorney's offices. Personality-wise I am suited to a funeral home, but it entails contending with both dead people and depressed people. Happy people annoy me enough as it is. Working at an upscale restaurant would be satisfactory, but Lubbock is short on those. The city newspaper voted Chili's the best restaurant. Sadly enough, that assessment has thus far proved verifiable. This town is so pathetic, Starbucks didn't bother building here. In every other town across this sometimes deplorable country, at every other corner Starbucks locations abound, but not Lubbock. And it's a college town! I hope the next rains set the town adrift to the edge of the planet, where it will, with any luck, fall off.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:10 PM]
Tostitos Or Fritos?
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
This morning I spent either sleeping or brooding. Tomorrow and the next four days I shall do much more of the same, in all likelihood.
Turkey sandwiches...
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:37 AM]
Take This And Kick It Up A Notch
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
I went to the ancient sports class because I suspected the professor would grant extra credit to attendees. I was correct. She had us write our names on a slip of paper and answer a question regarding the lecture.
Would you rather be a gladiator or a charioteer? Or, if neither appeals, would you rather own a gladiatorial school or own a team of chariot horses?I chose owning a team of race horses: I avoid physical harm to myself, I earn the winnings, and horses don't talk back.
Emeril Lagasse promised to Talk Turkey this evening, and it had better not be a rerun this time. Marc Summers brought out that 7 Up bottles essence of lemons and limes, not any portion of the actual fruits. And Alton Brown proceeded through grinding and wrapping sausages. The evening has only just commenced.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:13 PM]
Ceaseless Debt
Monday, November 22, 2004
I finally registered for classes:
American Government, OrganizationNaturally, this might change. But as I took all evening tweaking it to perfection, I shall resist the temptation to alter this marvelous schedule.
Comprehensive First Year German Review
Volleyball
Physical Anthropology cum lab
Northern Myths and Legends mit discussion
The Age of Chivalry
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:40 PM]
Progression Versus Regression
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Accomplishments Accomplished Yesterday:
1. A few days ago April sent a box of Lucky Charms. I emptied the entire box, picked out the marshmallows, and put them in a ceramic mug. In my trashcan sits the other ninety-five percent.
2. I neither showered nor combed my hair.
3. I read through two short stories.
4. I revised my schedule to reflect that most of the classes I wanted to take have closed.
5. I flipped between Stepmom, I Am Sam, To Kill A Mockingbird, and For A Few Dollars More.
6. At eleven I watched Home Alone. If only my family would disappear.
7. I listened to an entire collection of classic Disney tunes (five CDs) while pacing around the room.
8. I avoided studying for the art appreciation exam (coming Monday) and completing about five art appreciation projects accumulated over the past six weeks.
Accomplishments For Today That Will Not Be Realized:
1. I will study for the art appreciation exam.
2. I will complete the art appreciation projects accumulated over the past six weeks.
3. I will read three novels.
4. I will murder the obnoxious man behind me who clacks the computer keys entirely too loud.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:41 AM]
The Classes Are Closing
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Today I devote to reading.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:19 AM]
The Shift Key Is Stuck
Friday, November 19, 2004
April sent a phone card which I used to call The Father to ensure he had co-signed my loan application. He mentioned perhaps I am 'chewing more than [I] can swallow' with regard to next semester's course load and my degree plan in general. I retorted with, 'Well, Father- I have no life!' Having no money and no motor vehicle, I rarely leave the dorm. Lubbock provides little diversion beyond the Buddy Holly Museum, so I may as well drown myself in school work and work work (if ever I attain gainful employment again).
A pounding-between-the-eyes headache and exhaustion due to lack of sleep prevented me from fully paying attention during classes this afternoon. This affected Logic little, as a girl demanded the professor review every homework problem in order to subvert his plans to give a lecture over the material covering the next homework assignment (which was originally due this approaching Monday). Rather than hand my paper to the TA and subsequently step back out the door on Monday, I must now remain through the entire lecture (for the textbook reveals nothing) in order to understand the next section. I hope that girl contracts syphilis and her turkey burns the house down this Thanksgiving.
Amy and Robert restricted their schedules next semester to Tuesday/Thursday classes, which means they'll loaf around the room more. I like Amy and Robert well enough, but as with all other people I disdain their company. Next year if the CA plan falls through, I'll try to contract for a single room.
I do not believe in the concept of Hell because I have found it lies in other people.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:53 PM]
Mommy And Daddy Are Mad
Thursday, November 18, 2004
I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas.I want presents. I hadn't purchased nor received anything newish until last night's package from April. The box was too heavy to contain a severed head, so I became excited. It provided pantry-good food, which will sustain me through Thanksgiving. Ausgezeichnet.
Mommy and Daddy are mad.
I'm gettin' nothin' for Christmas,
'Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad.
Silver and gold, silver and gold-
Everyone wishes for silver and gold.
How do you measure its worth?
-Just by the pleasure it brings here on Earth.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:17 PM]
Study A Broad
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
I hope I land a decent job so that I can afford the following things in the following order:
a carIf The Father's bank awards me a loan, I shall take four more hours next semester. I could do lots with four extra hours. I want to take nineteen hours every semester if humanly possible.
summer school
study/internship abroad
a computer
a nuclear weapons arsenal
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:02 PM]
A Phallus Found In Pompeii
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Today in ancient sports class I watched a video depicting phallic symbols found in Pompeii or Herculaneum (I forget which). Specifically, they each appear as a bronze-coloured wind chime (having spheric musical tube thingies and hanging stars) with a humongous hanging phallus. Sometimes the schlong curves upward. When the screen flashed these marvelous artworks, I got so excited I nearly hooted. I might have done so had I been in the mythology class (that professor rather likes me), but the ancient sports professor-lady is a bit dry, as I believe I have previously mentioned. Kathleen Turner narrated this particular film, adding to the hilarity.
I am hiding here (the computer lab) until I feel Amy and Robert may have arisen from their midday nap. I was going to conclude a letter to April and finish some reading, both of which are quiet activities, but I nevertheless feel unnatural about moving around a room with sleeping people.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:22 PM]
Release, Release
Monday, November 15, 2004
I promised Keri tomorrow I would journey back to the mall in order to fill out employee training paperwork she never gave me while I worked there. She said she needs the stuff on file regardless. How this grossly incompetent woman earned a business degree escapes me. Sie ist eine Dummkopf.
Hopefully during the holiday I'll earn some schoolbook money working at the Katy Fuddruckers, which I urge everyone I have ever met to patronize this winter so I'll have something to do. I probably shan't acquire a Lubbock job before then, because employers now only want holiday hires. Scheisse.
I do not want to do schoolwork.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:01 PM]
If It's Not Baroque, Don't Fix It
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Yesterday prior to work (the very last shift ever) I wandered through the misses section at Dillard's, collecting about twelve shirts and one skirt. After trying each on in the dressing room, I decided a) I am never eating again and b) Dillard's needs a layaway policy. Half the shirts I pawed cost eighty dollars apiece. Two shirts = the amount The Father alots me at Christmas. I considered e-mailing him about releasing those funds, but I might as well wait until I lose more of my mid-jigglies (translation: lovehandles).
I owe a thirteen dollar fee to have the College Board send Texas Tech my AP report. Dadgum all this inconvenience. When I first took the exams, I only had them sent to Mizzou and UT. Dadgummit.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:09 PM]
You Are Not What You Own
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Keri tried suckering me into working tomorrow. Apparently she does not understand the meaning of 'I quit'. It is not my responsibility to cover her mismanagement, especially at $5.50 wages.
This morning over brunch I decided to major in history with a German minor in addition to the first major/minor plan. I already have twelve hours of history credit (American and European), which makes nearly half of the basic history BA. As I intend to continue German courses for proficiency, I might as well make a minor out of them. Now all that remains is grant hunting.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:13 PM]
Er Ist Sehr Heiss, Ja
Friday, November 12, 2004
The applied linguistics department advisor baked a pumpkin-chocolate chip cake, which made the effort I exerted (walking to the English building) in order to attend the meeting worth my while. I chatted with a couple of anthropology graduate students for a few minutes then finally introduced myself to the department lady. After finding the Classics advisor (with whom I had intended to meet this week) I vanished.
Nancy Cartwright was a five foot-tall blonde delight. I sat transfixed watching her utter Bart Simpson's voice. She threw Butterfingers.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:57 PM]
Maybe They're Asian
Thursday, November 11, 2004
I fell in love with my Logic TA. He wears glasses and is not in the least bit sexual.
Having forgotten the scantron and a pencil, I leapt from my chair in the ancient sports classroom and scurried back to the dorm to retrieve them. Upon my return I found the exam less difficult than the ones previous, due to the intense studying in which I engaged fifteen minutes prior. Though uttering it may well jinx me, I dare write: I might have gotten an "A" this time.
Before attending the Nancy Cartwright lecture, I shall crash (by myself... and invited...) a linguistics student social. They provide refreshments.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:07 PM]
Splurge
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Items purchased yesterday that I do not absolutely need:
dark blue Airwalk shoes
jeans
The Stepford Wives DVD
a Flogging Molly CD
two pairs of earrings from work
an apple-walnut tuna sandwich (deliciousness)
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:34 AM]
A Female Gladiator Versus A Dwarf
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
The ancient sports professor showed an entertainingly brutal video about the development of Roman gladiatorial events. Between British doctorate holders discussing various aspects of the games flashed scenes of fire, animal slaughter, and blood being rinsed down drains. The film was spectacular as compared to others I've watched; nothing was marginalized. Gore makes me happy.
Nancy Cartwright visits Texas Tech University Thursday night. She's the biggest thing to journey here since Metallica came last summer. I absorbed enough of The Simpsons over the years to warrant attending, though I largely ignored the past three or four seasons.
All week I must spend completing the projects on which I procrasticated: five art appreciation journal assignments, the final module for the computer class, and exercises in logic. Then I must study for the ancient sports exam held Thursday.
It's still too many thrills a minute in Lauree Land.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:14 PM]
Everyone Wishes For Silver And Gold
Monday, November 08, 2004
The Father called back tonight and apologized. I said, 'Terri told you you were a jerk, didn't she?' In a nutshell, he agreed. At least Terri is perceptive enough to understand I am upset without speaking with me. I loathe her for her bossiness, but I applaud her for prodding The Father when he needs it [though that must get tiring, as he requires much attention]. He made my mother so mad once she hurled a coffee cup at his head. It hit the wall (fortunately/unfortunately), chipping off its handle. Rather than throw the cup away, she put it back in the cabinet and used it periodically, just to remind The Father of his mortality. That's my favourite anecdote to relate about their relationship.
This time around we held a semi-normal conversation during which I brought him up-to-the-minute on school and other things. I mentioned the very brief Kevin Affair. I also told him about the first night I consumed a little alcohol (very little: half a cup of punch and three or four Jell-O shots), discovering I must possess the tolerance level of a five year-old. Three Jell-O shots and my cheeks turned red- that cannot be good, though Rebekah and Jen said it means they should take me out to party more.
The Father seemed not to mind when I noted I probably wouldn't graduate in four years. He said it was all the same to him, as I'll ultimately be paying for my education. He advised I not take more than one five-hour language course per semester, because the work load will murder me. The Father's counsel in this regard is fairly sound.
This afternoon I walked down the street bordering campus to the bank for to make a tiny deposit. I then splurged at The Dollar General on a single-serve container of apple-cinnamon oatmeal, two cans of tuna, an eight-pack of double-A batteries, and Suave cucumber melon body wash. How I stand all the excitement packed into each day defies comprehension.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:36 PM]
Endless Disappointment
Sunday, November 07, 2004
The Father called this evening (because I sent him an e-mail requesting he phone for a tuition matters discussion) at 7:55. I started to tell him about the classes I wanted to take next semester, but he cut me short, telling me how to secure more student loan money through his bank. Then I explained the job situation. He grunted replies and appeared disinterested. I meant to expound on several other subjects, but at 8:05 he said,
'Well, I have to go now.'
-Oh? Where are you going?
'I'm not going anywhere.'
-Oh? Why do you need to get off the phone?
'It's getting late, and you know this is a long-distance call to Lubbock.'
-Um, Daddy, it's eight o'clock.
'Yes, but I have to go, what do you want?'
-Well, I thought you would want to [here I sighed audibly] ...fine, you know, nevermind. Goodbye. [click!]
The Father is not stupid, and I respect him more than he might be aware (or deserves, I am coming to realize), but...
HOW CAN HE BE SO FUCKING STUPID?Must I spell it out- I am begging for attention. He cannot bring himself to pretend he cares about anything other than whether my next action will cost him something. But when I tell him I don't want to stay at The House of Usher over the holidays, he'll feign injury. He's pulled that sort of hokum every time I've tried to have an adult conversation with him since I moved out.
He still has no clue about what parenting entails. The Father mentioned he hasn't sold the old house, and that they are 'hurting for money'. Every few weekends, though, he and Terri make trips to Austin for football games or to visit her parents. Ritually every Friday night he and Terri "escape" the children to eat out together. But somehow he cannot afford to spend more than ten minutes on the phone with me.
I want ice cream.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:33 PM]
Tomato Florentine: Four Times Better Than Plain Tomato
Saturday, November 06, 2004
The dining hall offers soup. After crapping my pants (which sag now- yippee!) at this discovery I loaded a bowl, fastidiously replacing the lid that some nebish had left open. Then I sidled down the salad bar toward the tuna, to which I customarily add shredded Cheddar cheese (it also complements the soup well). I placed my drink cup in the upper right corner of the tray. Coordinating a balanced lunch constitutes the highlight of the day, because all afternoon I must devote to completing homework assignments before riding the bus to work this evening.
People around campus are touring with their families, as it is Family Weekend and the school hosts Baylor's football team. A girl in the elevator complained to me that, as she has no roommate, her mother stays in the dorm with her. A seven flight ride is too short for me to give the stock "my mother is dead and my father could care less whether I live or die" spiel, so I just laughed with her as though I sympathized. The Father wouldn't put in any sort of appearance, irregardless of distance. For one thing, this weekend marks The Latest Wife's parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary, for which they are hosting some shindig at one of their estates. Because The Father places his repute with Terri and her family above all else, I could be laid up in the hospital with a debilitating injury or chronic illness; he would forgo a bedside vigil for an old-people party without second thought.
People who somehow find out express surprise that I am remaining on campus during Thanksgiving. First, I don't have money for plane tickets and The Father won't feel like driving twenty hours both ways; I won't bother asking. But primarily, a tense dinner with The Brady Bunch From Hell is a memory I would like to avoid adding to my banks. Terri can probably cook as well as anyone else, but that, of course, is not the point. If I pass the rolls the wrong direction (from Terri's vantage it must be clockwise), I'll get rebuked with an "oh, you're a silly little idiot" laugh in which The Father will join, which will make me want to murder everyone. I cannot sit in the wrong seat or take the wrong glass. I cannot make jokes unless Terri will find them funny and I cannot tell stories or anecdotes unless Terri will understand them. I'll sit, shovel in the food, and sulk until the nightmare ends.
Thanksgiving should involve a comfortable family meal in which everyone, from me to my socially repressed brother to my attention-starved sister [I won't list everyone] feels loved and welcomed by everyone else. The Father and Terri might have a grand Thanksgiving, but their kids will get left out, if what happened during every regular meal I ate in that house over the summer is any indication. Even if The Father hadn't remarried, Thanksgiving and Christmas especially mean little since my mommy died. Her presence made those holidays, and the only way for me to recapture any semblance of that warmth is for me to start my own family, which is bloody unlikely! I'd have to have children, which would mean having sex, which entails letting someone touch my naked body, which is icky.
I am not bitter. I am not over-dramatic.
I want ice cream.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:53 AM]
Back Sweat
Friday, November 05, 2004
Tonight ought to mark my second-to-last shift at AfterThoughts. I haven't applied absolutely everywhere on campus yet, thus I will have no job probably for a week or two. Argh.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:57 AM]
Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Lauree's response to Bush's claim that he will work for bipartisanship:
Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!Bush said in his 2000 acceptance speech that he represented all Americans. Now he feels he has a mandate of supreme power over all of them.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:26 PM]
I Voted For The Other Guy
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Voting for Kerry made me feel dirty, but part of the logic behind that action was: Well, if he wins, I'll have someone different to make fun of. Instead, for the next four years stores will continue pumping out Bush-ism calendars.
Pathetically enough, besides the nation's apparent honest belief that Bush makes this country great, eleven states voted that homosexual love tears this country apart. That sort of rationale is one of the core reasons I couldn't vote for Bush. His administration propagates fear, which is revolting and horrifying and many other negative things to me. Of course, everyone utilizes fear tactics, but deconstructing someone's civil rights is abhorrent. The Republican running to represent Lubbock in Congress televised ads stating he would pass measures to keep marriage "between a man and a woman"- and he won! Four more years everyone has to live with this sort of nonsense, and they're willingly accepting it. Gag me with a spoon.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:47 AM]
Third Grade And Chapped Lips
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Snow fell the entire morning, not thickly, but constantly enough to slush up the grass and slick the sidewalks. For once the wind did not blow and my face was thusly spared that aggravation. Rachel mentioned the need for rainboots, for the street we cross to get to class always floods. This sounds like a Christmas investment for The Father. From my stint in the heart of the Midwest I probably have more warm clothes than other people; I saw several guys wearing sandals with jeans, shorts with sweaters, short-sleeved t-shirts, et cetera. They need their mommies.
I kept forgetting to visit the recreation center for early voting last week, so now I must find Rebekah or Rachel to take me to the nearest polling center posthaste. Upon my return I shall induce vomiting, then study mythology.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:41 PM]
Maybe This Is How They Built Stonehenge
Monday, November 01, 2004
Aunt Pammy sent photographs of her daughter, Rowan (a name which only makes me think of Mr. Bean):
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:59 AM]