To Be Over-Obsessive
Wednesday, July 27, 2005

I read with laughter something my older stepbrother wrote on his little weblog:

and here i am, stuck with the pale imitations of real people that i call my step-siblings . . .
god, i wish she would quit playing the fucking piano. or at least turn off the metronome

"she" refers to Kailey, who does play the piano with a certain grim, determined vigor that grates one's nerves. She plays well, but militantly. The kid turns everything into a march. Her style is a bit perturbed, and I suspect that anything she ever writes will be in minor key.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:49 PM]



Off To See The Wizard
Tuesday, July 26, 2005

The Father mailed my updated health insurance card, which means I may go doctor hunting. I wondered what a doctor might taste like. The cheaper ones probably cook faster, but drier. I need an eyeball doctor and an earball doctor. Some people might suggest I need a head doctor, but he would be dessert.

A new buddy of mine in Deutsch class wears spiffy, 1950s-style glasses. She recommended the store highly. I loathe glasses, but as I am gradually becoming blind, I suppose investing in a pair would behoove me.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:57 AM]



Moustache Man Seventy-Two
Saturday, July 23, 2005

I am excited that the Department of Agriculture finally concocted a new inaccurate food pyramid to replace the one in use since before my parents were birthed. After I finish updating, I am going to the website to find out where I fit (generally speaking and with several caveats).

My greaseball face feels much cleaner after having used the Clean and Clear goop, which is supposed to suck the refuse from my pores. Most other products merely suck off my skin, which defeats the purpose of cleaning it.

Bianca and I played racquetball early this afternoon, but neither of us was on par, probably because we had just eaten. I hit nothing, which is not exactly unexpected, but I hit far more nothings than usual. To compensate, we played Nertz (a card game) afterward, though it burns far less calories. At Nertz I trounced Bianca thoroughly.

Afterwards I felt bloated (I had been drinking a soda pop), so I journeyed to the student recreation center to ellipticize for an hour. Sweating out a pound dispelled the unpleasant fat feeling, and using the super-fun pore goop afterward made me squeaky clean, so that I am now quite invigorated. Upon vacating the library, I shall pull my laundry out of the dryer and begin working on my Deutsch diary. Das macht Spaß.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:53 PM]



Ich habe meine Hausaufgaben gut gemacht:
Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Eike assigned as homework for each member of class to concoct a new holiday and write him a card for it. Das macht Spaß...

I have an old winter season holiday card sitting in a drawer, with a snowy-white scene of a barn and people bedecked in winter garb ice skating. In the foreground is a frosted tree, which inspired the text of my letter:

Lieber Eike,

Hast du Ethan Frome gelesen? Es ist ein literarisch Stück, daß alles Hochschule Studenten lesen müssten. Die Meistens der Handlung kommen vor dem öden Winter der erdichteten Landschaft. Der Roman falte die Geschichte einer unerwiderten Liebe zwischen Ethan und Mattie, die ein Mädchen, die vieler junger als er ist. Außer Mattie würde den Gefängnisköder sein, Ethans Frau ist ein anderer Hindernis, daß sie müssten überwinden. Wegen der Beschränkungen der Gesellschaft, können die Zwei zusammen nicht leben. Deshalb, während der Städter feiern bei eine Scheune, petzen Ethan und Mattie zu eine Hügelspitze, die sie nach unten in einen Baum Schlitten fahren, zu Selbstmord begehen. Jedoch keine von ihnen sterbt: sie sind gerade schwer behindert. Nachdem passt Ethans Frau ihren auf. Es ist ein bisschen deprimierend.

Dieser Bild errinnerte mich unmittelbar ans Roman. Und mit meinen magischen Fähigkeite, schaffte ich einen Feiertag, während den alle Leute zusammen sammeln durfen, zu erinnen sich, daß zu lieben eine jungere Frau nichts als den Ärger macht. Eine Frau würde dein Lebensblut saugen, Eike.

Viel Spaß!

mit herzliche Grüße,

Lauree


Dear Eike,

Have you read Ethan Frome? It is a literary piece that all high school students have to read. Most of the action occurs during the bleak winter of a fictional countryside. The novel unfolds the story of a love unrequited between Ethan and Mattie, a girl who is much younger than he. Besides Mattie being jailbait, Ethan's wife is another obstacle that they must overcome. Due to the limitations of society, the two could not live together. Therefore, while the townspeople celebrate at a barn, Ethan and Mattie sneak to a hilltop, down which they sled into a tree in order to commit suicide. However, neither of them dies: they are just severely crippled. Afterward, Ethan's wife looks after them. It is a little depressing.

This picture immediately reminded me of that novel. And with my magic powers, I created a holiday during which all people may gather together to remember that to fall in love with a younger woman makes nothing but trouble. A woman will suck your life's blood, Eike.

Enjoy yourself!

with kindest regards,

Lauree

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:17 PM]



All Stuffed With Fluff

Yesterday afternoon a girl I work with (inconveniently enough, named April) and I explored the upper levels of the Student Union building, part of which is still under construction. We peeked through some double doors to ooh and aah at the bared drywall and unfinished flooring. Piled against one wall was a yellow mound of insulation, into which I was tempted to fling myself and was restrained only by my knowledge that the ensuing body rash would not be pleasant.

We discovered ten or twelve cubicle rooms of perhaps six-by-six feet each, which contain nothing save one floor lamp and between two and three lounge chairs. For a long time April and I pondered the purpose of these rooms. I feel there must be some clandestine intent, but of what I cannot ascertain. We may have to return to hunt for further clues.

Having suddenly an urgent need to empty my bowels, I entered the bathroom and nearly died of ecstasy, for the smell was of clean! The room was bright and shiny, with the reflections and counter-reflections of scrubbed sinks, metallic stall doors, and toilets not yet befouled (though I shortly took the opportunity to rectify that status). April and I exited the room quite dazed. I wish I was strong enough to rip out one of the toilets for my dorm. Running around freely somewhere is some girl who does not sit down to urinate, and when I find her, I am going to rub her face in it.

I also learned yesterday that the cartoonish figures composing the statuary between the Student Union building and the library are anatomically correct (as much as fantastic characters can be). The women have nippleless breasts, and the males have... thingies... which I presume represent penises (circumcized, of course- Texas Tech is a conservative campus).

The figures are tiny not-people people climbing a tall stack of books. Two or three of the males are grasping the book binding and are frozen in Superman flying-through-the-air position, as if blown by the ever-present and ever-irritating Lubbock wind... their little thingies are blowing straight out, as well, which I find a little unrealistic.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:24 AM]



Yesterday Around This Time
Sunday, July 17, 2005

I walked to CVS for sundry items, including a tube of Clean and Clear Blackhead Pore Cleanser, which I had not before tried. I used it after my shower this afternoon and it made my face feel quite dry, which Amy suggested means it is working.

My face never obeys my commands. In fact, none of my body parts concern themselves with behaving in accordance to my desires. My body mutinied long, long ago.

Ich muss jetzt meine deutsche Hausaufgaben machen. Sie sind nicht große.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:53 PM]



Under New Management

My name is Bianca and I am taking over this blog. Lauree is out and about at 2 in the morning and I have decided to take all that is hers as mine. I am not a fork. I am Windex. Bow down before me.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:03 AM]



Heh-Heh

You are a Fork.

You are special, unique... and shiny.... but you just don't know it. Many admire you for your outward appearance, but you haven't truly expressed all of the great stuff inside of you. You have the potential to do great things and help others, and this will help you in the future. When you hold a grudge at someone, however, this can be dangerous. Despite your calmness that most people perceive about you, you keep a lot of feelings bottled up inside that one day can make you explode and stab something. Instead of resorting to that, you can say, "Go Fork Yourself!"

Most compatible with: Knife, and Sock.

Click here -- What Random Object Represents Your Inner Self?


    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:02 AM]



Kaleidoskop
Thursday, July 14, 2005

Today I designated my one sick day from school. I spent that time doing nothing constructive. Es war sehr schön. I worked an office shift, during which I had hoped to study intensely for the German exam I have tomorrow, but between checking a group of tennis players out of the building and listening to my supervisors discuss various housing department scandals, I only copied vocabulary terms. Reviewing those and the readings ought to suffice for the evening.

I made a new friend this summer, a housing staff member named Cody, who graduates in August and is moving to Kansas City next week for graduate school. I rather resent this. After befriending me, no one has the right to do as he pleases without my express permission.

I need the weekend to commence, nearly as much as I need to take up heroin injections. Next week I hardly work at all. It will be beautiful.

Robbie wants school to begin. I laughed at him.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:01 PM]



The Musical Pocket Watch
Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Somehow I signed up for that insane music "service" a couple of months ago, so today I received the CD I purchased at "regular club price" plus a few other CDs "free"... because I am a sucker. They came, of course, with a lovely little invoice. Ignoring that, I am pleased with my semi-high-quality selection:

Ennio Morricone: The Legendary Italian Westerns
The Best of Joe Ely
Marilyn Manson: Smells Like Children
Patsy Cline: Live at the Cimarron Ballroom

Ennio Morricone composed the score for "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly", which is not on this album, which is why it was offered to me for "free". However, it does contain themes from "For A Few Dollars More", which for various reasons I liked best of the few spaghetti westerns I have seen.

Having no television, I probably shan't get around to viewing more films anytime soon. With no stereo, I also never listen to the radio. I know nothing about the news, I haven't heard about movie or television storylines (not that many coming out lately have plots, anyhow), and I haven't heard any of the music about which Bianca gushes. I am Amish in most respects, except I do have a microwave! I bought one last fall, since Amy brought the television, a DVD player, and her laptop. Investing in a thirty-dollar microwave was the least I could do... literally.

I drank some cold coffee drink that has settled unnaturally in my stomach and has, therefore, only exacerbated my lethargy. I don't even like coffee drinks (except the cold stuff, which reminds me of ice cream). I only drink the crap because it makes me look cool, and now it is ruining my life.

Ich muss jetzt Latein studieren.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:32 PM]



Überraschen?
Monday, July 11, 2005

During this morning's office shift I took much time to thoroughly complete meine Hausaufgaben, like a good egg. Coming to class somewhat prepared alleviated the consequence (namely, poor concentration) of my exhaustion.

My current options consist of ellipticizing or napping. Either would be beneficial and would consume about the same amount of my afternoon. However, I do have an office shift at six, which I would like to avoid having to shower prior to. Nap time it is, then.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:59 AM]



Why Did I Get Stuck With The Broken One?
Sunday, July 10, 2005

Ich bin immer im Stress. I enjoy nothing in the present, because I dread the next thing. I marvel that other people, who have as much to do or more than I, manage to accomplish everything, while every day I struggle to finish just one thing I make plans for. Most days this involves little stuff, such as reading a book for at least an hour or so, like I did easily enough when I was in junior high. Now I cannot read a paragraph without falling asleep or becoming distracted by something else.

The Father Situation compounds my inner problems further, especially since he determined I do not fit his new family and am therefore not good enough to be a part of it anymore. He and Terri also decided that I am broken, but not worth the effort of fixing. All I have ever wanted out of him is some stability, emotionally if not economically, but apparently his love has short limits. Anyhow, he cannot/will not provide the means under which I can rehabilitate myself, which adds to that running list of his general faults that I keep.

I genuinely try not to be perpetually negative, for it is not a trait I admire in other people, so I certainly would avoid displaying it myself, but nevertheless people I meet usually don't have to talk to me for more than five minutes before figuring out that I am fubar. During the fall I successfully avoided making more than two friends, but especially since working, an increasing number of people have indicated they find me somewhat likable, and I cannot spurn them all.

I feel it selfish of me to want to have any friends. Depressing people are burdensome piles of poo; everyone else has a thousand plaguing troubles of his own without having to be delicate about mine. Depressing people who are also full of shit are irritating as well.

Then, of course, there is my natural aversion to other people, which exists whether I am depressed or not. People smell.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:48 AM]



Die Bibliothek Saugt
Saturday, July 09, 2005

Ich möchte in einem Moment zu spanieren. Dann ich wurde gern bis Arbeit zu lesen. Ich liebe noch immer meinen "kaputt-Deutsch". Es schmeckt mir gut! Ich wünschte, daß April hier war, meinen Deutsch zu checken. Wo ist April?

Bianca and I played racquetball this afternoon- she being extremely lethargic, I almost beat her in one game. I still cannot hit the ball when it flies into the corner, but I am improving everywhere else, sort of (I more often master the concept of "hitting", but my skills in "directing ball movement" require further development).

My scalp itches. I scratch it raw sometimes, for it is always dry, and I am always nervous or stressed. Maybe someday my skin will fall off. Then I probably wouldn't have to wash my head as often.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:24 PM]



Ich Habe Nicht Gern Gym

As a daily assignment this semester, Eike stipulates we must keep diaries, entirely auf Deutsch. That ought to be painful for him to read. I wrote a full page this evening, with word order and perfect participles misapplied hither and yon, to be sure:

8.Juni.2005 sehnlichst Eike [hee-hee]:
Heute morgen habe ich um 06:23 Uhr aus meines Bett einige Linie von Der Aeneid zu übersetzen, wegen ich gestern es nicht gemacht hatte. Zwanzig Minuten später hat der Feueralarm tönen. Während ich meinen Büstenhalter und meinen Krümelmonsteren Hausschuhe gezeihen an habe, die Lichten haben geflagt und dann haben ausschließlich gegangen hinaus. Ich habe in die Halle gegangen, mildig besorgt über die behindert Gäste, die in dem Gebäude bleiben- mehrere sind blind, ein oder zwei dürften autistich sein, und eins hat "Down's syndrome"- aber sie haben in Ordnung geschienen. Jemand mit einem Gefühl von Humor hat "Für Elise" im oberen Stockwerk in die Klavierlounge gespielt, der die Atmostphäre (mit dem Blitz, dem Donner, und der Dunkelheit) vergestärken hat. Weil ich in dem Studentenwohnheim Büro arbeite, ich bin für alle Stunden auf Anfrage; deshalbs ich die Gäste zu richten gehilft habe. Ein Genie hat aus seiner Handy angeruft, zu fragen daß ich die Lichten machen an. Ich habe den Begriff der Elektrizität erklären, überdem, ich überraschenlich keine Kraft habe. Wenn ich zu meinem Zimmer zurückkommen habe, ich habe eine Schüssel von Golden Grahams in Schokolade Milche gegessen... dann ich habe mir schön für die Deutschkurs gemacht. Ich hatte noch immer eine Stunde, so ich zur Union Food Court gegangen habe, eine "soda pop" zu trinken, während ich meine Latein Hausaufgabe gemacht habe. Nach vier Stunden von dem Kurses, in dem ich vielleicht fünfundvierzig Prozent vergestandt habe, was hatte gesagt sein, ich bin zu die Bibliothek gereisen, mein E-mail und mein Weblog zu checken... ich habe mehr gemacht, aber ich bin jetzt sehr müde. Du bist wahrscheinlich auch zu müde mehr zu lesen... und es ist jetzt meine Bett-Zeit.

I spotted already a few mistakes, but am too tired to look through my textbook to determine correct grammar usages. I'll get something back with much redness.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:07 AM]



Es Tut Mir Weh
Thursday, July 07, 2005

Ich habe alles Tag ein Kopfschmerzen gehabt. Ich kann nicht [an?] meine Hausaufgabe konzentrieren. Ach.

Someone with ADHD or something similar appeared in Deutsch class today and did not stop talking or moving the entire time. He kept asking about what was going on, or making comments about how difficult it was to follow along without a book or about how taking a semester off between this class and the last level had been a bad idea... having a headache already, the urge to kill definitely had to be repressed several times, especially when this guy returned (late) from the break and knocked over my can of cat urine/Full Throttle. I wouldn't have minded so much, had I not been shushed by Eike after I tried to calm the guy down (he was making a long apology and moving around a lot as Eike continued the lesson). Dann ich war ärgert.

Since German I have been cranky, what with the headache pounding the inside of my skull, and I desire nothing more at this point than to nap. However, I must complete the aforementioned homework zuerst, danach ich habe ein Gymkurs Bianca and I are torturing ourselves with. It combines cardio, kickboxing, and a few other things, which ought to be advantageous in the event I become bored with one element.

Jetzt habe ich Durst.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:33 PM]



The Friendly Campus Rent-A-Cop Has ADD
Tuesday, July 05, 2005

This would be my favourite block of lines from The Aeneid thus far:

From far away I shall come after you
With my black fires, and when cold death has parted
Body from soul I shall be everywhere
A shade to haunt you! You will pay for this,
Unconscionable!

Heh-heh, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'... vengeance, thy breath is sweet.

My substitute supervisor, Leigh (the assigned guy is on vacation until mid-July), ist im Stress, und wir finden daß ein bisschen lustig. Sie weiß, daß wir finden ihr lustig; deshalbs, sie ist ärgert... she probably has a lengthy, dramatic spiel planned for the staff meeting tomorrow evening, for which I have already developed an idiotic, non-plussed expression to plant on my face. Because my left eye is much weaker than my right, and I wear no corrective lenses or contacts, if I stare at something for a time, that left eye sometimes wanders. It unnerves people a little when they talk to me, so I'll stare at Leigh just to drive her inexpressibly insane, if she does berate the office staff for us all missing shifts this week.

Leigh liked me, until I forgot my shift yesterday (she had to come in to cover for me, because the other office staff ignored her phone calls)- now, I believe she wants to commit bodily harm to almost everyone. I should probably chew gum, despite my intense dislike for the habit, in order to assure myself I shan't laugh. Ah, apathy- thy breath is sweet...

Today is the first day of school. When Ashlea, I, and Michael were wee, our mother made us dress up and pose for pictures somewhere in or in front of the house, postured a bit awkwardly with over-stuffed backpacks and holding the standard boxes of tissue we always had to bring for general classroom use. Newness of surroundings and the shift from summer to school, school, school again genuinely excited me.

Now, of course, I am quite a bit more jaded by the whole system, though something I feel that would alleviate this reluctance to leave my bed every morning is a gigantic sandbox, with monkey bars and swingsets, set in the currently dirt-filled space between the philosophy, foreign language, food sciences, and library buildings. It would also make an excellent depository for the cigarette butts of the students (and occasional faculty) who smoke behind the foreign language building during class breaks. After the build-up of a goodly-sized stack, people could play massive games of King of the Mountain.

I have more ideas, lots, lots more, but for now I shall guard them, lest someone else profit by my genius.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:47 PM]



I Trim My Nails

Browsing weblog templates recently provided many ideas about a design I could actually make entirely myself, for once... I want something having to do with the Marx Brothers, natürlich, for of the Marxes I never weary. The project will have to be postponed at least until this weekend, however, for I must settle into the second session of summer school before attempting anything extraneous.

I celebrated the nation's declaration of independence by reading about the persecution of Christians in provincial Roman spectacle arenas. Das macht Spaß. Then I went to bed for a full night of fitful sleep, finally interrupted around six-fifty this morning, when I arose to ellipticize with Rammstein (mehr Spaß).

Now finding myself in a state of mild hunger, I shall journey forthward for vittles, to be consumed as I devour the final chapter of the gladiator book. Then I ought to continue The Aeneid, which I began a couple of weeks ago but neglected as finals approached... arrived... and have since long passed.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:28 AM]



I Am Too Good For This
Monday, July 04, 2005

Having evaded me the entire past month about co-signing for the private summer loan I took out, The Father finally acknowledged, after I forced the conversation during a phone call yesterday afternoon, that he does not want to co-sign for the fall loan. With the summer loan, he had put off signing it for a month, because he swore he had no time, when in reality he only wanted to stall. He fully intended to torture me again for the two months until fall tuition is due, but I essentially told him he had to make up his mind jetzt.

He pointed out that the interest rate for the private loan is nine percent, which is much more than the three percent assessed for the PLUS loan he claims he cannot afford. My reply to this was,

'Yes, Daddy... but I can't very well take out the PLUS loan, can I? "P" stands for "Parent", and I am not my own parent. I don't know why you keep bringing it up [when it isn't an option].'

In this, as in past conversations, he then mentioned, with an accusatory tone, the Stafford loan I received- according to him, I ought to have received more money somehow, and the fact that I didn't indicates I am doing something purposefully wrong. I explained, for only the upteenth time, that the Stafford loan is set at fixed amounts, increasing with classification. Maintaining the 3.9... GPA ensures I shall continue to receive it, but grades do not determine how much I receive. At senior status, with scholarships, the Stafford might cover all of tuition, but definitely not everything with room and board (though I plan to be in an apartment by senior year).

The Stafford loan and scholarships this year cover all but about $1400 of my fall tuition, but after room and board, I have to take out private loans. For some reason, The Father refuses to grasp this reality, and he insists I'm doing something maliciously wrong... because I want to pay more for this horrid education I'm getting. I don't qualify to take out loans without a co-signer, the reasons for which I have outlined repeatedly, but The Father insists I do (irregardless of the bank notices I have received informing me otherwise); I must be doing something in order to shift responsibility to him. That frustrates me more than anything else- that he honestly believes I am trying to shaft him, somehow.

Granted, this comes from someone who wears Cookie Monster underwear, but one of the two people in this equation needs to learn how to act like an adult. The Father should have told me nein from the outset, rather than forcing me to wait anxiously for any kind of reply as the deadline approached. I had to pay an extra twenty-five dollar fee for an emergency enrollment loan to cover the first semester of summer tuition, whilst The Father sat around concocting wild, off-base excuses.

I called him this weekend on his cell phone, as he is in Austin celebrating the Fourth of July with his new family that I am not good enough for. Lubbock is perhaps another five hour drive from Austin, I think, but it is laughable to suggest he would even consider making a side trip to visit little Lauree, who he has not seen since Christmas. Not to sound vindictive, but I hope the barbecue gives him food poisoning.

Ich muss Deutsch studieren.

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:46 AM]



Spielst Du Racquetball?
Friday, July 01, 2005

I owe Texas Tech University twenty-five cents for second summer tuition, so I need to hobble back out into the burning sunlight before the office closes. I arose early to study for the Latin final (it was painfully easy), finished the final in fifteen minutes, ate lunch at Jason's Deli with Rebekah, joined her for a Wal*Mart run, and am now thoroughly exhausted.

Aber ich kann nicht schlafen- ich muss deutsch studieren! Ach! Schade!

    [Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:31 PM]