Monday, June 13, 2005
Bianca reads information about Cuba and Honduras from her Espanol textbook as I type; officially, revolucion is my most favourite Spanish word. Bianca teaches me about strange, new things: for example, "moving"- to me a foreign concept that I am now learning via our racquetball practices. We pass the tennis courts as we head to the racquetball-playing facility (the campus student recreation center) and have considered beginning tennis sprees as well (at times nocturnal).
I would like to initiate a Texas Tech University croquet team, but first, I must learn to play croquet. It correlates to my scheme to live in Japan- first, I should probably bother to learn the language. Well, I'll consider that, after mastering the three others, plus English, which I neither speak nor write as well as I ought, either. My writing is so vacuously pretentious, it even gets on my nerves.
A young man, who works in my hall, the other day, upon viewing my room, asked rather simply, 'So... what do you do?' [commas interspersed inordinately, I am aware] He had noted my lack of television, stereo, computer, iPod, car, et cetera. Troublingly, I believe I spend more time planning for things than doing those things. Yesterday, for this time I had planned that I would be studying for Latein, from which I have obviously been side-tracked.
I did go by the bank for to determine the reason my loan has not been dispersed, then I did call The Father about the income verification he needs to send as resolution to that problem. He accepted my phone call rather tersely; I could not ascertain whether he was simply busy (I called him at his place of business) or behaving in puerile (if I'm paying so greatly to take Latin, I may as well use the vocabulary) manner.
When upset with something I have done (or have not done, or had no idea I was supposed to have done, or was supposed to have done according to him), rather than inform me directly, The Father plays the "I'm-going-to-ignore-you" game. He all but hung up on me this afternoon, which I doubt I might be blowing out of proportion in light of the fact that in the last e-mail I sent a few days ago in reply to something he wrote me, I had responded quite angrily to an attack he made upon the Kourys. They can't help being kinder than he- nearly everyone is. He can't very well browbeat everyone on the planet.
Lauree will not rant, Lauree will not rant.
Good Lauree.
Study time.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:29 PM]