Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Christmas Eve consisted of dinner and a gift exchange at The Father and Terri's house. There I received the following:
ironI remained nonchalant through the evening, but I am not certain Terri coped well. She never acknowledged me directly, and I had to sit next to her at dinner, which was slightly awkward. For instance, she would pass me a dish of something, I would thank her, but she wouldn't respond- either out of vindictive hatred or indifference; I couldn't determine. Out of everyone there, Jeremy and Kailey Marie were the only ones who spoke with me and behaved normally, thanking me for the gifts I brought them and such. The Father seemed calm enough, but he's always been so dadgum aloof. Oh, well. It could have been worse.
ironing board
Angela's Ashes
What's The Matter With Kansas?
cell phone
German-English dictionary
various stocking stuffers
The Megabitch made everyone Christmas ornaments that were very lovely, but I might have appreciated mine more had I a tree on which to hang it. Oh, well. Nothing satisfies me.
From April and her parents:
Eloise at Christmastime DVD
Student Driver t-shirt
sugar-free chocolates
stocking stuffers
two phone cards
a check to cash
a place to sleep
Lindsay crocheted a black-and-grey hat that shrieks of craziness. Aunts, uncles, and grandparents donated gift cards to Blockbuster, the GAP, and Borders.
I shall continue at a later date, for April probably wants to sleep sometime.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:30 PM]
We're Only Ordinary Men
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Lindsay gave me a cold. She promised to teach me to crochet, though; if I catch on, I shall forgive her. Grandmother Keith taught Ashlea and me how to crochet when we were in junior high. Ashlea took to it well and made many a doily, but the art frustrated me and I never re-learned it.
The Father did decide to finally cut me off financially. I wish he had done so immediately after I graduated high school rather than drag everything out this long, but oh, well. I think he blew the not-staying-at-their-house situation out of proportion in order to validate the decision. But had he been straight with me from the beginning about the fact that he cannot afford to take out parent loans, or pay for my books, or do anything to help me, then our relationship probably would not be as strained as it is presently. I can forgive him for not being able to afford to send me through college, but I now resent him in particular for stringing me along. This summer, for instance, I told him not to pay for my college if he couldn't afford it, but he then spoke out of the other side of his mouth, telling me- 'Oh, we'll find a way to get you through college'. I wasted my time this semester because The Father was too proud or selfish or something to admit he can't fulfill the one thing he has always promised he would do for me.
April and her parents probably think I'm an insomniac, because every night I've spent thus far at their house I wake up and watch television for a while, because I cannot sleep. Every night I brood about how I'm going to pay for books this semester, plus the myriad other issues now raised with The Father's decision. After finally becoming comfortable with what I've decided to do with my life, I'm going to be too stressed to enjoy school next semester. After showing up Christmas Eve at Terri and The Father's house with a bright smile on my face, I am not certain what I'll do- eat dinner, exchange gifts, kiss the monster children goodbye, and leave, I suppose. If The Father wants to talk to me, he ought to be the one making the phone call. He can afford the long distance.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:57 AM]
Business Majors Have It Easy
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
I finished the ancient sports final in fifteen minutes, perhaps less. I ought to end the semester with a 3.8 GPA- ausgezeichnet. After more revisions (the English class I needed opened up), this is hopefully the final schedule for next semester:
Introduction to Archaeology MWF 9:00-9:50 a.m.The Texas Tech University distance education program offers the other core classes; I will take them intermittently.
Comprehensive German Review MTWRF 10:00-10:50 a.m.
Cultural Anthropology MWF 11:00-11:50 a.m.
Comprehensive Latin Review MTWRF 12:00-12:50 p.m.
Introduction to Fiction MWF 1:00-1:50 p.m.
After returning to the K-hole I should discuss the transfer-to-UTA plan in depth with Lindsay- after I give her her Christmas present. Lindsay, April, and Rebekah will receive generous gifts; everyone else got crap. This was not a lucrative semester.
The Arlington campus offers a Classics minor, but not the B.A.- I would have to enter the Interdisciplinary Studies program in order to earn a B.A. in Classical Studies. With that degree I would probably minor in philosophy. The Philosophy department offers a Philosophy major/Classics minor track, which I might consider. Either way I would take most of the same classes. After deciding to nix teaching I concluded I should major or minor in Anthropology- if I do transfer to UTA, it would be primarily because their Anthropology program has specializations in classical studies. Tech offers one course that can hardly cover the field. At UTA I would major in Anthropology with the minor in German.
If I remain at Tech I'll major in Classics with Greek concentration and either a Latin or a philosophy minor. The second major would still be Anthropology with German, but I don't feel it would be as comprehensive as the major at UTA. The UTA program requires linguistics, philosophy, and sociology courses for the major, whereas the Tech program simply requires x anthropology courses at junior and senior levels.
Why do I complicate everything?
Rebekah invited me over for a fajita dinner. This might not be wise, for we will ride in her car together tomorrow for at least ten hours. But if she's willing to cook, I'm willing to eat and not complain.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:48 PM]
Where Are Your Tongs?
Monday, December 13, 2004
Bored bored bored. Bored. Last night I watched Horsefeathers; the night prior I watched The Cocoanuts. Tonight I shall probably have a viewing of Les Miserables. I am nearly through reading Gladiators and Caesars- after I finish this afternoon I must study for tomorrow's ancient sports final.
Rebekah and I leave Wednesday around eight, after what will surely be a delightful breakfast sponsored by McDonald's.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:30 AM]
All I Want For Christmas
Sunday, December 12, 2004
If anyone loves me, he or she will get this:
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:19 PM]
We'll Follow The Old Man Wherever He Wants To Go
Saturday, December 11, 2004
The final mythology exam took twenty minutes to complete. We relocated to an unused room because the lock code on the door to the regular meeting room changed, with no notification to my instructor. Last week some hoodlum broke into the classroom and attempted to steal the ceiling projector equipment, which meant the last several lectures contained no amusing slides. I was intensely disappointed.
Last night Amy and I watched White Christmas and made a jolly time of it, with boisterous singing and such. I intend to introduce this enchanting film to April, though she will likely not find it as entertaining as I. But, as always, I shall contribute embellishments of sorts to enhance the viewing experience.
At lunch marinara sauce spilled onto my shirt (specifically: the right breast)... and the crotch of my cargoes... and my shoe... each at different times during the course of the meal. The sweat stains under the armpit of my shirt make for a lovely accentuation.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:57 AM]
Being And Nothingness
Friday, December 10, 2004
My roommate and her boyfriend irritate me as concepts. I do not sleep well when they are in the room. I cannot concentrate to study because Amy turns on every piece of equipment she owns and talks to Robert or pounds away at her keyboard. I could hide in the closet, but that might be conceived as "antagonistic" (among other things).
Dormitory food disrupts my stomach specifically and my entire digestinal tract in general. I fell asleep around two, waking up at approximately seven and lying in bed until eight-twenty. I arose reluctantly and threw on a sweater (and my bra) to eat breakfast, which consisted of eggies and potato bits with gravy and some cinnamon danish thing and, to drink, a Diet Coke (juice hits my stomach harder than wine). Now the tummy rumbles.
I finally met my other half: she isn't April! Her name is Jen, and she is one of Rebekah's charming roommates. Jen is a space cadet in every way that I am. I want to marry her. She told Rebekah, delightedly, that she and I must share the same brain. I then commented, 'Yeah- and we each got half.'
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:54 AM]
The Land Of Ut
Thursday, December 09, 2004
The past four hours I spent researching the degree programs at the Arlington campus. The highly-tailored program thus concocted involves an Interdisciplinary Studies B.A. in Classics with a Linguistics minor, plus a second B.A. in Anthropology with a minor in German. This requires less hours than my degree plans at Tech, and it more closely reflects my career aims of classical preservation, research, and excavation.
At Tech the anthropology department has specialists in Native American and Mexican/South American studies, but nothing for classical excavations. In contrast the program at "uh-tah" provides specialized classical courses. Tech only offers two undergraduate linguistics courses, but uh-tah offers several classes specific to the area. At Tech I would have had to paste the minor together primarily from other departments.
I am looking at Arlington because Lubbock blows. I've made a few good friends through Rebekah, but the town is numbingly dull. The academic departments at Tech are all excellent, but they don't coordinate well to fit my interests- "uh-tah" is much more flexible.
Then there is the little matter of money- "uh-tah" tuition (for a liberal arts major) is cheaper and the school tacks on less fees. If I apply for next fall, I could acquire on-campus apartment housing for relatively cheap and thus spare The Father that immediate expense. Then maybe he would love me again, sort of.
Speaking of which, he had dadgum well better love me this semester. I should end with four "A"s and one "B".
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:20 PM]
Would It Help You If I Slit My Wrists?
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
I am spending this week in a constant state of "miserable" because The Father keeps trying to find an excuse to cut me off. It irritates me. If he didn't want to take out loans for me to get through college, he should have not taken them out. Now he and Terri are banding together to find some excuse to cut me off, because they have apparently discovered that raising a million kids in her house is not economically viable. The Father's old house hasn't sold yet, and he meanwhile must provide for its upkeep.
He tells me that because I do not want to spend Christmas break living in The House of Usher, I must not want to be a part of the family and must therefore be prepared to "accept the consequences", which I take to mean he will stop financing my college. There really aren't any other consequences I can conceive of, seeing as how he never does anything else for me. As of right now, both my bank accounts contain less than fifty dollars. I am being very conservative with my meal plan. If I asked The Father for an emergency loan, he would just tell me to "accept the consequences". But I am the jerk because I do not want to live in his house and commute to the University of Houston, without a car.
Fine. If he gets his way, I'll drop out of school and find a job and find a place to live. That won't be stressful or scary. And of course, I'll still call The Father every night to tell him how many cockroaches scampered across the floor that morning, and every Thanksgiving and Christmas I shall return to The House of Usher with a bright smile on my face, gifts for everyone, and warmth in my heart.
Ho, ho, ho.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:17 AM]
The Art Fart
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
I must only take finals for two of the five classes in which I enrolled this semester. Those are in my major and are not cumulative, which means I shall not make an especial effort to study for them. However, my art appreciation journal is due tomorrow: I procrastinated on five assignments and am completing them this afternoon and evening. I scribbled notes from a few websites and must now compose the project material, which consumes time but is not particularly difficult.
I researched the work of an African artist, Kwesi Owusu-Ankomah, who lives and operates out of Germany. This piece is entitled Sonnenprinz:
For another assignment the instructor instructed us to locate a subcultural artist. I visited an artist directory and clicked on all the Hispanic names until I came across Rene Trujillo, who lives in Los Angeles:
More of Owusu-Ankomah's work may be explored here, there, and everywhere.
Rene Trujillo has said, 'I couldn't be essentialist even if I wanted to be," due to his mixed ethnicity and range of artistic influences.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:30 PM]
No Sleep
Monday, December 06, 2004
I wrote something for the old Geocities site. It is rather lengthy, but the last three or four sentences are golden.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:02 PM]
Oh, To Laugh Again
You're Night!
by Elie Wiesel
You've had some truly horrific experiences, especially recently, and you can barely stand to discuss them. While many people are afraid of getting close to you because of this, it has also built a fascination and admiration of you that is hard to rival. You know that things are about to get better soon, but that the trauma will be impossible to forget. You are short, but powerful.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:36 PM]
I See It Needs Sweeping
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Last night I read part of Gladiators and Caesars (one of the required texts for my ancient sports class) for entertainment purposes. I learned things, such as: prior to the imperial period of Rome (which began with Augustus), gladiatorial contests could only be held as part of funeral rituals. The deceased person, if he left a will, often included instructions for his funeral procession. However, the gladiatorial contests provided entertainment for the populace and were manipulated, eventually, for political means. Julius Caesar withheld his deceased father's memorial service for twenty years, as he established himself politically and sought popular support for his elections to official positions. People remembered gladiator fights (in part because Roman citizens also received grain alotments).
If for some reason I become executor, I would withhold The Father's memorial service for twenty years, out of spite. And I would include naked men fighting each other (Roman gladiators did not fight nude, but I feel some modernizing would be in order).
Rachel took me to the mall, where I bought a couple of over-priced gifts for people who need them. Right now I am reflecting on the fact that I do not have the money to buy more. Last year I had some extra cash and went bananas with the gifts, but this year I am penny-pinching as a result of the AfterThoughts episode. That wasted my time.
However, my stepbrother and the two blood-related brothers will accept and be grateful for candy or chocolates, which is what I intend to get them and which will not be terribly expensive. That leaves The Father and April, plus more candy for Amy and other satellite friends.
I am ready for Christmas.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:30 PM]
The Shit's So Deep You Can't Run Away
Saturday, December 04, 2004
I spoke with Kailey Marie (my little sister, age fourteen) last night. She told me Terri and The Father had gone to The Megabitch's (my older sister, age twenty-two) art exhibition at the University of Houston, leaving my siblings alone at the house to fend for themselves. I asked why Terri and The Father didn't bring Michael, Kailey, and Eddie along, and Kailey replied that Terri felt some of the art might not be "appropriate".
First, Michael is seventeen, Kailey is fourteen, and Eddie is twelve. They know the difference between art and pornography and they are quite old enough to begin learning how to comprehend deep or dark subject matter. Second, and more telling, The Father took them to The Megabitch's art show last year (before becoming too attached to Terri).
This episode worries me. The Father has always been explicitly against censoring things from us children. He bought Kailey a Playstation game entitled Bloodrayne for her twelfth birthday. She didn't ask for it, either- the gift sprouted entirely from his desire that she have something to play that involved a female lead. Bloodrayne's main character is a half-human vampire who drains her enemies' blood for life energy. But now Kailey is too immature to view the work of college art students.
Kailey and Eddie are far too timid/passive to speak up for themselves. They live in that house and they know who's the boss- it isn't The Father. He willingly subordinates himself, because actually performing parental duties scares him. He pulled this sort of crap sometimes when our real mommy was around, too. But Michael, Kailey, and Eddie are far too old for Terri to become a surrogate parent to them; they aren't seven, four, and two. The Father should be the one instilling values, not this stranger.
Kailey, the brave little soldier, said, 'Well... I have four more years.' Yeah, kid- and you'll probably end that period hooked to crystal meth, like Terri's oldest son. She didn't let her kids watch programs such as The Simpsons and she took them to Disneyland at least once, but The Megabitch and I are more intelligent and more successful than her precious boys.
I really wanted to avoid associating Terri with The Evil Stepmother, but I cannot help doing so when The Father willingly allows her to dominate the household. That, of course, does not imply he ought to be making all the decisions, either, but he could make some of them!
I am utterly relieved and grateful that April's family is housing me during winter break. Her parents know how to prioritize.
Sheesh gamungi.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:23 AM]
Crazy For Feeling So Blue
Friday, December 03, 2004
I spend an inordinate amount of time brooding and devote far too little effort to my escape from inner darkness.
Translation: I need to get out more.Griffin acknowledged me today during the mythology class. He'll probably call next week to schedule a study date for the final, which, blissfully, is not cumulative.
The TA granted my most recent logic exam an 89, which raised my cumulative grade to an 80. This means I will not stick around for the final, which pleases greatly. I believe the art appreciation final is also optional- I just have to make an appearance to receive my journal back. Ausgezeichnet.
I revised my entire spring schedule, because the Latin section in which I desperately needed to enroll either dropped a few people or opened a few seats. The courses now consist of the Latin review, the German review, American Government, Latin and Greek Terminology, and The Age of Chivalry. I probably could have taken another core in place of the history course, but I decided to take something writing-intensive because I haven't written a paper since high school. Writing requires practice.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:54 AM]
No TV And No Beer Make Homer Go...
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The other day at lunch I missed Rebekah, thus thwarting my intent to establish home movement. The plasma people could not let me donate because in October I donated blood and must therefore wait an additional four weeks. Oh, well. Tonight I plan to sell ice cream with the Classical Society. The club will probably not make any money, though; I saw no fliers anywhere. I was too busy this month to attend meetings, or I might have suggested a little advertisement, which I would have thought to be self-evident. If this event cancels unforeseeably, I shall be moved to anger/crushing disappointment.
I slept perhaps six hours total of the past forty-eight. I could not fall asleep until after one, and then I tossed intermittently until dawn. Shortly thereafter I arose for breakfast. Stress prevented slumber, for I have been conflicted about precisely how I am to pay for summer school this year (I need to take German and Latin) and where I am to live during that period. At the beginning of the semester I mentioned to the Father I would need to enroll during the summer, but he adamantly opposed the idea because it meant he would be compelled to take out more loans. I suppose I must, as usual, do this myself. Hopefully next semester I'll work and donate enough plasma to secure a summer lease on the apartments near campus.
In addition I tormented myself about whether I fit the degree goals I set. I decided to fairly nix the idea of teacher certification, because I would rather be a professor than a high school teacher. I plan to achieve the Classics M. A. and doctorate from the University of Texas (if I receive enough fellowships, grants, and scholarships, though, I would rather attend graduate school out-of-state), which does include an optional teaching certification track. Ultimately I want to live and work abroad in Germany or Japan (preferably Japan), just because I believe it would be crazy fun.
For about two seconds I considered majoring in international business, but that requires senses and drives I simply do not possess. I could make an "A" in financing, marketing, and managerial classes, but I doubt I could competently apply any knowledge thereby gained, when unleashed. I suppose it's fear, really- to succeed I would have to be especially aggressive and gutsy. I prefer analyzing frescoes; granted, it is a less financially lucrative route, but if I am destined to become rich I want to achieve that status with as little personal effort as possible.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:56 AM]