Saturday, April 30, 2005
Whitney and I sallied forth half an hour before we were due, in order to volunteer at the animal shelter (basing our progression on the directions posted to the honors society website). However, we were led astray, arriving half an hour late to a facility where the animals are all kept outside; we had presumed this would be sort of like the SPCA. As we both despise and are slightly afraid of animals, we avoided walking any of the dogs or cats, opting instead to wander around and have our pictures taken for the society photo album (when the photographer asked why we hadn't gotten a dog to walk yet, I told him we were hunting for a good one).
Yesterday I mandatorily volunteered to plant things for campus-wide Arbor Day (amusingly, no one was permitted to plant trees), but upon surveyance of the requirements (two hours, hot sun, dirty hands, boredom) I merely registered, collected my free t-shirt, and vanished to attend the German poetry hour put on by the M.A. candidates. Then Rachel finally found me to take me out for a birthday dinner before I had to work; we originally chose Carino's, but opted for some place we had never heard of after the hostesses at Carino's informed us of the forty-minute wait. The alternate restaurant had an excellent appetizer and decent dessert, but the main dishes were unsatisfactory. Oh, well.
Tomorrow I must study for finals.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:14 PM]
Japanese The Manga Way
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
The aqueduct clay has not yet dried (I added water to soften the edges). It consists of a hill through which a green straw runs as conduit, emptying into a sort of tank (castellum) before proceeding to public collection tanks, private residences, or imperial and industrial buildings. I inserted an opaque straw through one side of the tank (which could be enclosed in a vault, though I left it cut away) to indicate how water flowed to the city through smaller pipes. At the end (terminus) of the green straw in the castellum I placed an upside-down Coke bottle lid, as something similarly would have caught the water and allowed it to spin, thereby slackening flow before moving it along for public consumption.
At one side of the castellum genuflects a pink-clad ninja man, who represents the common water thief. Claudius (beginning in the fifties A.D.) established patrols to dismantle illegal taps, which occurred rampantly because premiums were required for private delivery, which, of course, could only be afforded by elites and imperials- thus repressing the plebes.
Rah-rah subversion!
Anyhow, tonight I need to write essentially the above in paper format, three to four pages' worth. Then I'll have time to play with my new Japanese book, which teaches the language through an examination of actual manga. I bought it after class via Vattis annual birthday funding. With it I also purchased the requisite Ancient Greek-English dictionary for the course I'll take next fall. The girl at the counter raised her eyebrows, no less because I was listening loudly to Rammstein as I paid.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:09 PM]
And It All Came Tumbling Down
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
I shall spend the latter half of the day building an aqueduct for ancient technology class, writing a short presentation paper for English, and studying the conjugations of the Latin verb meaning to go. I consumed the first half exercising to Rammstein at the rec center, attending Latin and German classes, and typing a mass e-mail to German Club members, informing them I am their new Secretary and that they must therefore bow to my will.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:23 AM]
Ein Spiel
Monday, April 25, 2005
Ein neu Freund geschenkt mir Rammstein und andere deutschen CDs fur mein Geburtstag. [word order not necessarily correct] I've been listening to them all day (the Rammstein, who I equate to Metallica). After Jeremy (der neu Freund) brought those yesterday, we played Mario Kart, for which I apparently lack any sort of skill. I haven't played video games for many moons.
I miss Road Rash. Those were the days.
This evening I appointed myself Secretary of der Tech Deutsch Klub. Four people appeared at the officer election meeting, and those four people are the officers. I am also the club's Student Government Representative. Tonight the old secretary (Richard) will send member e-mails in order that I may commence evictions and notify the people who did not show up (i.e., the forty or fifty other nominal members) that they have new leadership. Das macht Spass.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:18 PM]
Twizzlers Hurled At My Head
Sunday, April 24, 2005
The birthday progressed well. First, I awoke at 5:45 to shower, read A Wizard of Earthsea for a while, then journeyed to the mass communications building to judge the first round of UIL poetry. Rebekah and I ate muffins there together, for she felt beckoned by a supernatural force as well, except she judged prose.
The girl I placed first performed three pieces having to do with the identity of a black woman. She had great energy, good body movement, and much better vocal control than the other students. Everyone else performed quite well, and definitely deserved to be at UIL, but they were all on about the same level and were therefore more difficult to rank. One girl did a dramatic piece, with quite a bit of sobbing, but despite pulling that part off fairly well, she did not convey the full meaning of the poems (two). The girl in second affected an accent similar to Sally Field's; she interpreted her first poem with it very rightly, which compelled me to place her second, despite finding the two poems she did a little less interesting than some of the others I heard.
After my round finished, I walked to the Student Union building for a burger and a frappuccino. As I exited the bathroom there, I found the girl who interpreted the dramatic piece, with a friend of hers adjusting themselves in front of the bathroom mirrors. She said, 'Hi' in acknowledgement, and I contemplated giving her some commentary, but decided against it. I ranked her sixth of eight...
I rode with Jared and one of his good friends, Tim, to the elementary school, where we dug spaces for plants as volunteer work for a couple of hours. We then lunched at The Cotton Patch as Jared had the Tech band people wash his truck. Jared and Tim, between them, had enough cash to make a three-dollar donation, which was just as well, because I noticed afterward that the band nerds did not bother to jump in and clean the bed.
At Hobby Lobby I purchased molding clay and small, plastic carving tools for the aqueduct project. Back at the dorm I packaged two small boxes with some books and a few miscellaneous items in prepartion for departure in a few weeks. Then I checked stuff on the computer and went to work.
Work last night was incredibly fun- it was like Clerks the entire evening, because I worked with all the good people, and one of them blared his Offspring CDs on a continuous loop. Between singing along, Kimmy and I contemplated how best to destroy the aliens.
A "boy" comes into Sam's often, but he purchases nothing save an extra-large fountain soda every time, and he always walks out the door sucking on it. He wears glasses and has a large, oddly-shaped head. His card identifies him as "Michael". I thought to myself: That cannot be human; he must be an alien life form! As he left last night I pointed out the above to Kimmy, who agreed wholeheartedly with my conclusion and offered to help me destroy him, using her supernatural powers.
Of course, Kimmy and I are not capable of destroying a race (there must be more- this "Michael" is probably their leader) of aliens by ourselves, so we enlisted the aid of our coworkers, Fisayo and JPat, as well as our manager, Serg (who doubted our possibilities for success). However, none of us could facilitate a plausible course for destroying the aliens, and we therefore sought information from persons coming in to buy food, if they appeared knowledgeable about the subject of eradicating alien life forms.
Though many people who come into Sam's at 12:30 a.m. for munchies seem alien-wise, apparently none of them know how best to kill the aliens in our midst. Several people I asked did not understand the gravity of the situation, which I found rather sad, for they will probably be the ones who are eaten first.
At some point around one a.m. the line at my register extended back about six or seven people, who were all apparently friends, chatting with each other about the party they just returned from (less enebriated, though, then other people I encountered last night). The first guy, wearing a bright blue shirt that read, Horn if you're a honky, looked at me blankly when he handed me his candy bar and I asked, "Do you know how to kill the aliens?" I said it loudly to be heard over the Offspring, and everyone in line stopped in mid-sentence to look at me. Pleased to have full attention, I explained the situation, but no one offered answers. They each exited, laughing, oblivious to their impending deaths.
Close to closing time, a boy came in for cookies and two twelve-packs of Dr. Peppers. Dejectedly, I asked for the hundredth time: "Do you know how to stop the aliens?" He could offer no suggestions, either, to which I simply shook my head and uttered, "Shit." He felt sorry for me, though, and wished me luck.
It is for all humanity that he should feel pity, for we are doomed.
Tonight I work again.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:08 AM]
My Sentiments Exactly
Friday, April 22, 2005
This one is bigger.
The above are photographs of public latrines from the ancient port of Ostia, Italy. Romans wiped their tails with wet sponges attached to the end of sticks. Refuse usually drained into rivers (the Tiber in Rome). There were no stalls and no Playboys.
Yesterday after Latin I attended a graduate seminar for the pre-Socratic class. It bored me somewhat, for I knew little about the topics presented, though I have decided Heraclitus was funny and Xenophpanes must be added to my "I must read this author" list.
Comparing A Wizard of Earthsea to Kafka's stories for the final English exam ought to produce a hilarious work. Le Guin uses much vivid imagery, and her angst is rather more subtle than Kafka's. Also, she seemed to like her father.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:24 AM]
One Of These Is Not Like The Other
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Saturday morning I have volunteered to judge a UIL poetry or prose round at 8:00 a.m., after which I will spend the afternoon with Whitney and her male companion, Jared, at a mandatory volunteer event for Gamma Beta Phi, building a garden at an elementary school. That lasts until four, when I shall journey forth for clay or play dough to build a model aqueduct. I also need one (1) straw to serve as the conduit. If I choose to construct an open conduit, then that requires only half a straw! And the remaining half contains many possibilities.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:21 AM]
I Saw Mommy Tickle Santa Claus
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
I dressed like a girl for the scholarship award reception I am to attend at three-thirty this afternoon. I looked halfway decent, until I walked outside into the wind. Stupid wind.
I studied for Latin the other day and feel more caught up. I should do well on the final if I make a few charts and continue the workbook. For German, I should probably memorize all the things I didn't, such as the perfect forms of verbs and two-way prepositions. I did memorize most of the vocabulary, with the noun articles, like a good little egg, but all the prepositions and certain adverbs slipped away long, long ago.
School must end.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:51 AM]
Farther Away Than Crazy
Monday, April 18, 2005
The paper I wrote discussing Siddhartha and As I Lay Dying received a 100. I again am perplexed, for I wrote the last third the morning of the due date; that part connected loosely, if at all, to the first section. The professor scratched, "Interesting" to the side of my relating Faulkner's choices for character and plot development to American isolationism. I felt confident as I wrote that he would appreciate the linkage.
The English final is to be a comparison of the two books I have not yet written about- the Kafka stories and A Wizard of Earthsea, which I am currently reading. He allows notes, which means I shall outline most of it prior to the exam, copy and embellish the remainder, and finish within an hour rather than stress through the entire two and-a-half hour period. The class periods before the final consist of five-minute reports about topics relevant to the novels read, I suspect as a manner by which we absorb different perspectives. I might mention certain references from classical mythology or history I noticed.
I called The Father the other day, and he informed me he opened the mail I had gotten only in order to put it into a smaller envelope and thereby avoid the extra postage expense. He swore he looked at nothing.
Oh. Well, gee, is my face red. But, then, how could he expect me to react? Oh, well.
During the conversation he mentioned The Megabitch sold a few art pieces to a gallery owner/dealer person in Houston, who commissioned a few more, as well. I am genuinely glad for her; we've never gotten along, but I would not deny that my sister has always been a talented artist. She deserves success with it. The Father sounded pleased, but still dubious about her career choice. I hope she becomes a filthy-rich, cultural icon, just to spite him.
Not bitter- I am not bitter...
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:32 PM]
Green Eggs And Ham
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Friday afternoon the German Department hosted a guest lecturer, a Lutheran pastor from Houston, who spoke on the importance of second language acquisition in business (though he digressed to its relevance as part of his current occupation). I wrote my notes for Eike (I need some extra credit to boost my test average) in stream-of-conscious style, for his amusement. I mentioned something Robin Williams said in a sketch once about Lutherans being "Catholic done light", which Eike found lustig.
Ich muss zum Arbeit gehen.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:30 AM]
One Baby To Another
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Rarely do college students in Lubbock become incensed enough about anything to protest, but a girl (Whitney) on my floor informed me she witnessed people sitting at a couple (in the most literal sense of "two") of tables in front of the Student Union building, in defiance of Killer Coke. Whitney got a bumper sticker, a small poster, and a cause. She gave her two "You win a free 1-liter Coke" bottle tops to her boyfriend, Jared, who stood beside her, unmoved, as she listened to an anti-Coke rant. The guy dressed in a bear costume did not deter Jared's convictions, either. But Whitney claims she will never again purchase a Coca-Cola product.
I introduced Whitney to the wonders of the Chitwood/Weymouth dormitory complex computer lab, for her laptop has not Microsoft Office Access or Microsoft Office Publisher, which are required for the material she must complete for her computer class. She caught me at work (though not working; I went there for a drink after working out) and begged me to help her figure out how to print a mail merge.
After reflecting inwardly that I know little beyond how to resize a window, I agreed to help, though thus far I have merely directed her to the lab, which, as mentioned above, supplies the required programs. I brought along Funshine, the Care Bear doll I have carried around since the age of three; she sits atop the CPU, watching the activities of everyone else in the lab (for Whitney and I are sitting in the back row).
I ought to have thought to bring my Latin or German books- I am far behind in both classes, although I caught up a little in Latin. So long as I attend every class until the final, I ought to do well. However, my neglect of German now poses serious problems, for I confuse adjective endings and never memorized the perfect forms of verbs. Ich habe keine Zeit! I might inquire of Eike or Brian for private tutoring sessions next week before class. I also have more direct questions for Eike, such as:
How did you get suckered into attending university in Lubbock, of all the cities in the United States?Dr. Holland noted that someone from my Latin class will take the summer courses, as well, and will be with me for the composition class in the fall. I am in ponderance at the moment of who this mystery Latin fellow could be. I desperately hope it is not someone who is much more intelligent than I am, for in the face of serious competition, I tend to give up.
Different countries have different peeing systems- for example, my aunt, who visited Japan, said the seats are set significantly lower than in most western countries, and in Morocco, she squatted over a hole (while six months pregnant). How does one pee in Germany?
If I cannot find a museum job, do you think I can afford to rent a flat based on income earned working at Starbucks?
You mentioned you are an only child (das Einzelkind). To what degree do your parents and family resent that you choose to live on a remote continent? Note: this may not be expressed verbally, but may be strongly implied.
I referred parenthetically to working out; upon exit of the recreational building I collided (not physically) with a boy, named Jeremy, and his girlfriend, who is nice but whose name I cannot recall, both of whom suggested I play racquetball. They claim it requires little actual effort, but I remain unconvinced. I tire easily playing Ultimate Frisbee. But we shall see.
Whitney received the same e-mail I did about a week ago, referring to a job tutoring students with disabilities, but, unlike me, she followed through with the application. Just now she added, "But I don't know why I applied, because I have a touch of ADHD myself." She made no note of this on the application, however. I told Whitney I would like very much to sit in on one of her tutoring sessions.
I suppose I should put myself to bed.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:21 PM]
Abilene
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
The Classics undergraduate advisor (Dr. Holland) squeezed me into the summer Latin courses (which had filled up before my registration date); I therefore switched the Latin II fall course for Latin Composition. Dr. Holland informed me we are to read Cicero.
I dropped The World of Rome for Modern English Syntax, for that occurs on Tuesdays and Thursdays right before Latin Composition. Gender and Sexuality in the Classical World I may drop: nineteen hours, when nine of those are language courses, might be a bit much.
I love school.
The Department of Housing and Residence Life feels so grateful to have me back in the dorms next fall and spring that it offered a free, refillable coffee mug. Every time I use this mug, it will cost me thirty-nine cents. But I am unconcerned, for I do not drink coffee.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:59 PM]
Only When One Is Empty
Monday, April 11, 2005
I registered for classes. I might switch around a couple, but this is mostly complete.
FALLI am too tired to elaborate.
MWF 10:00-10:50 a.m. Beginning Course in Greek I
MWF 11:00-11:50 a.m. German Culture and Society
MWF 12:00-12:50 p.m. Ancient Civilization I
MWF 1:00-1:50 p.m. Second Course in Latin I
MWF 2:00-2:50 p.m. Gender and Sexuality in the Classical World
MWF 3:00-3:50 p.m. The World of Rome
R 6:00-7:50 p.m. Volleyball
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:27 PM]
He Drinks And He Cusses
Sunday, April 10, 2005
April invited me to stay at her apartment after I take my finals next month, so this afternoon I ventured online to find bus tickets to the A-hole from The Buttcrack of Texas.
I despise Lubbock, for the most part. Though the skies, when clear, make one euphoric, I would still appreciate a tree or two to hide underneath. I am a creature who prefers shade, plentiful water sources, diverse flora and fauna, and Taco Cabana.
Everything closes Sundays- everything but the churches and IHOP. There is not a Katz's in Lubbock. If I ever wanted to do something, there is nothing to do.
Moaneth I.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:26 PM]
Whistle At This
Saturday, April 09, 2005
I wrote a thank-you letter to the endowment representative of the scholarship I am receiving, after working this afternoon to cover some girl's shift; tonight I close again. Then I must arise early Sunday to pick up the German dialogue I donated to my partner, because I need it myself to memorize before Monday.
It is archaic of me to write checks, but I am proud of them. They make me feel like a grown-up.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:07 PM]
Sergeant Pepper's One And Only Lonely Hearts Club... Something
Friday, April 08, 2005
The Latin instructor notified the class, 'You ought to put the third test behind you and focus on everything from now leading up to the final,' not realizing I, at least, had already done that before I took the third exam. I looked at the paper and could not remember my name or the date, let alone recognize perfect passive participles.
But that is all behind me.
This weekend I shall read quite a bit. In English we began a new novel, A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin, which seems a simpler read than the others. The plot may be more complex, but the language itself is relatively straightforward, perfect for the end of the year when the class wants to analyze no longer, if any had desired to do so in the first place.
I arose at four-fifteen this morning to write the proposal for September's classics conference I am to attend. This endeavour took less than an hour; I ought to have done it last month. Oh, well. The professor needs to edit the paper, and then I shan't have to concern myself about it much until summer. I intend to present something on the Roman aqueduct system, which happens to be the subject of my final ancient technology project; the research will therefore be mostly complete.
It is also, admittedly, an easy topic to research, though that makes it somewhat difficult to present something informative to people who probably familiarized themselves already with the material. Oh, well. I achieved my primary goal of avoiding some subject that requires building, at least- I cannot very well construct an aqueduct, unless in static miniature.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:26 AM]
The Fat Lady
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Yesterday in the mail I received notice that I am to be awarded five hundred dollars for the next fall and spring semesters' tuition. That comes from the academic scholarship; the other one for which I applied is, I believe, need-based and usually awards more. The fingers remain crossed.
Upon reading yesterday's Latin exam, I thought to myself, Hmm... what's my name? What year is it? Where am I? I do not think I did well, even having reread every chapter the night before. Others in the class expressed likewise opinion.
But that is all right. Finals.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:31 AM]
Nothing To Fear
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
I take the Latin test in less than three hours, officially. The anticipation makes me dizzy, for I am not prepared. Oh, well.
I smell like cigarettes, because Amy's cigarette ashes spilled out of the trashcan, onto the floor, and onto my shoes. The soot also collected on the curtain attached to the sink (it hides the trashcan), which apparently brushed against my leg as I readied myself for class this morning. Since The Father quit smoking and I am consequently no longer constantly surrounded by cigarette smoke, I tolerate it much less ably than I used to. As a kid, I think the smell of cigarettes accompanied me like Pigpen's cloud of dirt, but I never noticed unless someone happened to mention it.
These three tests will not be good, but I ought to compensate on the final exams...
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:08 AM]
World's Biggest NASCAR Fan
Monday, April 04, 2005
Last night around seven I drank a Full Throttle, which kept me awake until two this morning. It tastes similar to Mountain Dew, except Full Throttle contains more caffeination than carbonation.
Beginning last Friday night, I have worked out every day on the elliptical thingy at the student recreation center. I feel better now that I am doing something about my weight, rather than moaning about it. This past evening, I believe I finally discovered the perfect workout album: From The Muddy Banks of the Wishkah. If Kurt Cobain had a grave, he would probably be rolling in it, but that's just tough noogies for him.
I finished As I Lay Dying last night in preparation for the final lecture today. The next paper, due the fifteenth, is to be a comparative between two of the past four readings, for which I intend to use As I Lay Dying and the Kafka selections (In The Penal Colony, A Country Doctor, The Metamorphosis, and a couple of others). As the professor spoke during this afternoon's lecture, I contemplated some thesis along the lines of both authors addressing repressions of creativity, the self, and sensuality. All reading assignments have concerned individuation to a greater or lesser degree; I find my English section interesting enough. This paper has high potential, provided I complete it this weekend rather than procrastinating until the night before.
Tomorrow I have a Latin exam, for which I must study all evening. Wednesday I am tasked to complete an exam in German and an exam in Latin and Greek terminology, which means I ought to perhaps consider looking at those notes as well. The adrenaline is good for me.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:40 PM]
Amoebas on Fleas on Rats
Sunday, April 03, 2005
People creep me out.
Case in point: a few weeks ago at work a red-headed boy I handed food to struck up a small conversation with me, the icebreaker for which being he had seen me around the language building (wherein lies four of my five classes; I live there) and wanted to know my major. So I told him, and I gave him his chicken strips, but I could tell he had a desire to continue, simply finding nothing else to say.
People who speak to me for longer than is absolutely necessary (especially when I am at work) aggravate my mind in no small way, because I sometimes cannot discern between whether they might be genuinely friendly or genuinely looking-for-a-new-stalk-victim.
Friday afternoon after my last class I felt exhausted, went to my room, and napped through the meeting about selling credit cards as a fundraising scheme for the honors society. Upon waking I went to the library to conduct some recreational research, then sat looking over notes at the campus Starbucks. Afterward I journeyed west toward my dorm, and encountered along the way the red-head, who at first I did not recognize from anyplace. Upon spotting me, he caught up (in a few strides, for he is tall-ish) and asked, 'Hey, do you live in Coleman?'
This I responded to with, 'Why?' After all, I would like to avoid being raped and/or murdered.
Looking at me now with slight trepidation, but keeping his voice confident, he said, 'No reason- I was striking convo.' Dadgummit, thought I, the kid is just being nice- a creep wouldn't have registered my reaction as odd.
In compensation I then asked, 'Oh... so, what are you up to?' He replied jovially, mentioning he was off to a weekend volleyball tournament out of town somewhere. We then parted paths, he heading toward the parking lot and I heading toward my room to bang my head against the wall.
People creep me out.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:04 PM]
College Is Not Like Animal House
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Yesterday I received confirmation that I have been accepted as a summer guest assistant on campus; it entails little more than office work. The main bonuses include free room and board during summer school, plus a monthly stipend (not huge, but money is money). That leaves me to account for tuition and myriad tuition fees, relieving half of that stress. Das ist sehr gut.
Now I must concentrate on earning enough to pay for upcoming textbooks, as well as a new set of socks, for I have about worn down the pairs I bought whilst living in St. Louis.
Upon waking this morning, I found Kermit's lips to be on top of mine. What a little sweetie.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:44 AM]
Lord, I Apologize
Friday, April 01, 2005
Just when I get to thinking, For once, I am not awash in bitterness, The Father manages to recomplicate matters. In his latest act of irrationality, he recently forwarded mail he had received at his house... and he opened it. He has never opened my mail before; all the time I lived in St. Louis, he waited for a substantial amount to accumulate, then packaged it all into a larger envelope for sendoff. That was fine.
He opened envelopes containing a refund from the College Board for a fee I overpaid, a refund from school for a fee I overpaid, and a letter from the IRS containing my income tax results. He cannot pretend naivete, especially about what he thought might be in that last.
Amy happened to be in the room as I opened these, and she suggested I write him a letter. I did, and I am very proud of it: [caveat: if you happen to be anonymously thinking, Lauree is a crazy, unforgiving bitch, then perhaps you ought to find someone else's retarded weblog to haunt- there are plenty out there]
Vatti,
While I genuinely appreciate the prompt forwarding of my mail upon your having received it, I must mention I would appreciate this service you perform on my behalf quite a bit more if I received the mail addressed to me UNOPENED, in its original condition, por favor. This is not an issue I have felt necessary to raise before; all the time I lived in St. Louis, you never sent my mail to me already opened.
I cannot conceive what has suddenly inspired the notion in your mind that it is acceptable for you to open my mail, except perhaps that Terri opens Jeremy's for him routinely, and you now feel, therefore, that you have some parental right to open mine. Of course, this scenario might well not be true, but after my confusion at receiving my income tax results and check refunds not in their original envelopes, it was all I could think of, again because you did not open my mail before you remarried. Whatever your reasoning, I guarantee there is never any instance for which you may do so. No mail I receive is pertinent to you in any manner, with the lone exception of the Bank of America savings account statements [The Father and I jointly own that account]. You have my permission to open those, and if you find the numbers to be unsatisfactory, by all means feel absolutely free to contribute.
Thank-you for sending the Texas Tech refund check- any money I may deposit back into one of my accounts is always desired. The University sent fifty dollars because I paid for my first summer school session application, and presumed the University required an additional fifty dollars for the second session in July. But they do not need my money this time. This paranthetical information was not included in the envelope you opened; I thought I would clarify the remaining half, in case you were wondering, since you obviously were curious enough to open the letter in the first place.
As you also read, I earned ---- dollars last year, for which I may expect a refund in taxes of ---. When I found you had conveniently opened this set of news for me, I again at first pondered why you would need to know my income information, but then it dawned on me- you merely wanted to calculate how much money to send! Let me thank you in advance, for I cannot get enough of money. I must admit, initially I was furious that you would honestly believe how much I make is any of your business, but I then remembered you do still consider me a member of your household, which means you still provide at least half my support. This past year you paid for my food and housing through the PLUS loan, but as next year I must take those loans out myself, it naturally occurred to you that I might need extra cash here and there for toothpaste, textbooks, shampoo, et cetera. I did acquire such items this year, but at the expense of bigger things, such as having my wisdom teeth pulled, going in for an eye exam so that I may wear glasses again or get contacts before my sight deteriorates further, making a down payment on a car, et cetera.
Well, now I am glad you deemed it necessary to find out precisely how much I earned baking hamburger buns last year, for now you may help me budget how to pay for all of the above based upon what I will make this year, which will be substantially less, because last year I usually worked between thirty-five and forty-five hours per week at a higher hourly rate.
I apologize for withholding how much I make- it was rather selfish of me. After all, I always tell you about something immediately when I perceive you need to know it- my bowel movements, my grade point average, my having consumed three Jell-O shots at a Halloween party and thereby discovering I have a low tolerance for alcohol relative to most other people, what I intend to do in preparation for grad school and my nebulous plans for how I will preoccupy myself after graduate school, and letting you know the address for my retarded weblog I maintain so that the people I am away from can remain current on what I am doing or avoiding doing. Considering my openness, you must have felt hurt that I did not share my income tax results with you. I am truly sorry, and I hope never to disappoint you again.
So, when do you plan to begin supplementing my meager income? I don't anticipate needing money immediately, but it would be nice to have my books paid for when summer school starts. Call or e-mail me so we can work something out.
And thanks a million times over! I consider myself lucky to have a father who doesn't begrudge his daughter the occasional handout.
Love,
Lauree Frances
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:37 AM]