Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Jeremy dropped German Culture and Society, the traitor. The two people in the class who I knew from my summer semesters are people who are nice, but with whom I do not speak. Today (the second day of class), MeShawn appeared, but she did not complete the prerequisite sophomore-level course and therefore probably will vanish again.
The professor, Dr. Bonzo [hee], approaches German from a linguistic point of view, which of course makes me happy. I may have to move forward (I sat in the back row), though, because his speech is too soft, which further compounds attempts to comprehend his Deutsch. He allowed ten minutes today for us to read a German text, which I understood the gist of despite my woeful lack of vocabulary. I think I shall find this class most beneficial.
Young Mr. Underwood had us read aloud (about a line each) from a Greek passage, written in Greek (i.e. not Roman) lettering. I had worried I would butcher the pronunciation, but I only mispronounced phi (as ph with a stop, as in "uphand"); apparently phi sounds more similar to the ph in "telephone". Today we learned about the marvelous accents, which was a bit difficult to grasp because we have not learned anything from recognition yet, as it is only the second day of class. The quiz Friday ought to be simple enough, though. We shall see.
Dr. Forsythe gave a background lecture (mostly concerning the Paleolithic era and the emergence of modern man), which I found, unfortunately, boring; the telling of the prehistoric period is as scanty and piecemeal as the evidence available for it. I determined to remain awake, however, and glared disapprovingly at one girl who was reading a newspaper. Irritatingly, people in some of my classes have pulled that sort of stunt even with professors who aren't blind. If I taught a class, I would have those students evicted.
The little girl directing the philosophy discussion section is gentle and dorky, but encouraging and comprehensible. Also, she brought cookies, because, she said, as an undergraduate she used to bring snacks to help her remain awake during lectures. I found that odd, for eating tends to awaken my need to sleep.
The sexuality professor had assigned two readings, which he thoroughly reviewed, causing me to believe, perhaps erroneously, that if I happen to neglect an assignment or two, I shall still pass the course. The readings were modern interpretations about how to analyze sexuality, which I found interesting in themselves and may look up later to finish reading (he had e-mailed exerpts from two books). I printed the third this evening, and shall retire to my lair in a moment to read it and the next chapter in the ancient Near East text for the history class.
I officially leave the dorm office position Saturday and resume my former boring but more financially lucrative role at the campus minimart Sunday or Monday. I befriended all the community advisors (RAs) and shall continue to have them as dinner buddies. Breakfast I eat alone promptly at seven.
Ich muss Latein, Deutsch, Griekisch, Geschichte, Philosophie, und SEX studieren.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:21 PM]
Part Two: Fahrrad
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
I biked to class, for I knew I could not hoof it from the foreign language building to the place where the beginning swimming class meets in under ten minutes.
First I went to the introduction to philosophy class, which is absolutely full of freshmen. I do need to reorient myself to a more philosophical manner of analyzation, so I suppose I shall remain in the class rather than substitute a senior-level German grammar class- grammar, schmammar.
Dann habe ich Latein, mit Dr. Holland. We began translating the first several line's of Cicero's prosecution of Verres. Dr. Holland is adorable, because he reads enthusiastically and with much feeling and emphasis on Latin as a vibrant language. Also, he knows everything. He looked right at the seven of us and asked, "So, what was the basis for the Roman economy during this period [80s-60s BC]?" I wanted to reply, "Ich kann nicht Englisch sprechen."
I genuinely like my six other classmates. A girl, named Adrian, and a guy, named Taylor, both took Latin during the summer with me. Jackson and Megan I had met and spoken with at various classics department functions. Jackson is more uptight than Cameron Frye, but he is amiable enough. Erik, who arrived thirty minutes late, is a little doofy and is apparently the person on whom everyone good-naturedly picks. Seventh comes Robbie/Robert, who works at the bookstore and with whom I took the ancient technology class last semester. When I went to scout out my books, we engaged in a lovely conversation, for he is a French major and, like me, essentially wants to learn every language on the planet.
Dr. Holland released us early, so I leisurely rode to swimming. I spoke with the other girls pretty openly about the small fact that I am going to be the worst-looking person in my swimming suit, which they all found amusing and made me feel better about being in a class with girls who are all more attractive than I am. And perhaps by the end of the semester, I shall look presentable as well. The instructor seems pretty good about getting people fit, without being a Nazi about it. She has a good sense of humor.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:49 PM]
Annual First Day Of School Report
Monday, August 29, 2005
None of the people in Greek class appear interesting, except the instructor himself, Mathew, one of the classics graduate students. He wore a pastel (I think greenish) shirt, textured white pants, and a pink tie, probably to make us think him a spasmoid. I love him. Either he was a GT kid, also, or he has ADHD; he sometimes crosses back-and-forth in front of the chalkboard, or he nearly completes forward lunges as he talks. He isn't adorable like Eike, but I shall similarly stare at him with drool gathering in my mouth the entire period.
Dr. Joshua D. Bonzo teaches German Culture and Society. He is very nice, quite obviously smart, and determined to speak auf Deutsch the entire time, about which I am naturally anguished, for my grammar is nicht so gut. I thought my little friend, Jeremy, had signed up as well, but he did not appear in class today. Das ist schade. I suspect this class might involve something I particularly am not fond of: work (der Arbeit). Pssh. I just want to speak the language; I am not at all interested in learning it.
The ancient civilization (Episode One: The Near East And Greece) professor entered the room with a sight dog, which I had not anticipated. I admired that he simply started the lecture and did not bother making unnecessary excuses for himself. He had someone who I presume is a history graduate student (but not a TA) help him carry in a few maps of the Mediterranean, with all the little mountains raised so he could feel to point them out. I discerned even from his brief geography discussion that he is, as reputed, quite thorough. November 18th an eight-to-ten-page paper describing some book is due. He provided a list of books he reserved at the library, so immediately after class I hustled to secure In Search of the Indo-Europeans: Language, Archaeology, and Myth before someone else dibsed it. Also, I know fully what will occur if I do not begin this project now.
Dr. Lavigne reminds me of the big red alien from the classic film Space Jam, starring Michael Jordan and the Looney Toons. The class involves daily discussions and analyses, and I already designated the girl sitting behind me as The Irritating Person Who Makes Every Point Argumentatively. I don't believe she has that intention, but she still sounds defensive every time she comments. She's perfectly nice, though, and she admitted she had trouble expressing precisely what she meant. Nevertheless, I had a small urge to strangle her every time she spoke. I probably ought to have that checked.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:24 PM]
I Hated Beowulf
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Steve (someone who works in my dorm office) recited part of Beowulf for me in Old English. His accent is fascinating, though reading the book itself with Mrs. Norwood senior year was tedious. Steve also speaks Gaelic, to which he subconsciously reverts when drunk.
Adorably, he nervously anticipates his first day of teaching high school English classes tomorrow. His students are sure to find him eccentric.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:28 PM]
Clay Smear
Friday, August 26, 2005
This afternoon I created the floor for my castellum divisiorum out of clay and set that on the floor. Tonight after a short office shift, I shall construct the walls, and hopefully mold the branch pipes. Yesterday I created larger channels for the conduits leading into and out of a settling tank, which have turned out fine, but I cracked part of the tank wall itself as I attempted to even out the top with a plastic cut-making tool... thingy. Scheisse. Overnight I wrapped everything in moist paper towels to counteract the drying process.
I loathe building things. I'm more an artist than an engineer- and my favorite art mediums consist of things such as buckets of paint + large canvas or markers + Garfield colouring book.
I also resent that I must present and demonstrate this model- I would much rather hand someone my paper and scoot out. I do not sound half as intelligent speaking as I do with information gathered in written form. It takes conscious effort to keep "like" and "um" to a minimum.
At the beginning of the week, I was severely stressed, but at the moment I am at least neutral. In the past two or three weeks I lost eight pounds, which amount I need to lose three times more before I shall feel like a normal person, physically. I'm burning more fat, but have been doing less exercise than I did at the beginning of the summer, which is sehr gut. I discovered I shall never arrive across campus at my swimming class from the foreign language building (LAT 4302- Composition) without bicycle aid, which ought also be beneficial.
The student assistant job at my dorm pays $5.25 wages, with no chance ever of advancement, so I quit this morning in favor of returning to work at the campus minimart, which is a not-unbearable nightmare, and where I might at least have a slim chance of rising to super Student Supervisor status. A higher income with greater hours means I might qualify to take out my own loans my "junior" year, which is the only way I can pay for all of it.
Either this or next weekend I am going to catalogue the junk I have that is sellable, such as CDs and books. I know the bookstore across the street buys CDs, and I think they accept books, but that may be only for store credit. We shall see.
Now I must vanish to find Vitruvius.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:58 PM]
Batman Returns
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Several zits appeared on my cheeks this morning, a noteworthy oddity in consideration of the fact that I never break out on my cheeks (though the rest of my face is a veritable oil field). To compound this problem, the sun reddened my pasty face the other day, to the extent that no amount of full coverage Mary Kay foundation conceals it adequately.
My gimp left foot finally healed- it had been misbehaving for more than a week on account of stress from using the elliptical machine, but now all is well again. I have kept off about five pounds for the past couple of weeks, going to the rec every morning and every couple of nights.
Tomorrow, though, I must play hooky to attend a scheduling meeting for the Student Assistant position in my dorm. I had heard the office needed to hire a couple of people, so I applied, with the thought that working in the office during the week would provide ample enough study time. Unless they grant at least thirty hours (which is laughable, according to Bianca), I shall probably supplement with weekend shifts at Sam's or elsewhere.
I must call The Father tonight to discuss whether he might yet be persuaded to co-sign a loan for me. He rejected the one I got from Wells Fargo (I really just applied through them because that is the institution through which I have the Stafford), at which point I believe we essentially ended that conversation.
For the past month, therefore, I haven't been entirely certain whether he has now decided that not only will he not take out loans himself, but will also never agree to co-sign for mine, which would most decidedly put me up Shit Creek. Now I must be direct (i.e., talk to him), unfortunately, because no one else in our extended family is in any sort of position to come to my aid in this regard.
This stress needs to disappear. As long as he says, "Yes" to something, everything will be peachy keen. If not, then it would appear as if apartment-hunting I shall go. Yay!
It would give the excuse to move out of Lubbock (I am always one to view the positive aspect of situations).
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:56 AM]
Like We Did Last Summer
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Interpreting graphs projecting the ideal average gradient for a hypothetical aqueduct preoccupied me this morning, when I awoke at approximately two-thirty to urinate and could not fall back asleep. First I paced around the room, listening to a Disney album for about half an hour, then I read and took notes from Roman Aqueducts and Water Supply, which admittedly bored me until I reached the descriptions of construction methods. I am now at "Chapter Eight: Hydraulics", which is going to be out of control.
I went to bed again around six, perhaps, and left at ten-thirty to take a shower at Stangel (which does have hot water, sing praises to a Lord who I shall still only mention hypothetically). I ate a sandwich and cookies at Subway (chocolate chip = ungood, oatmeal raisin = doubleplusgood), to and from which I walked only a short distance, my new residence hall (Horn) lying just across the street. I hope the jalapenos do not make an ugly encore.
Aside from aqueduct research, the grandest project preoccupying me this week was creating a tent bed, in which I have slept fabulously the past two nights. I paid for a "single room", but I received a double without a roommate (no complaints), and therefore two of everything, all movable (except the sink- it remains in place, despite repeated yanking). I stared at the twin beds for several minutes, thinking, Two beds for one Lauree... two beds for one Lauree... this does not compute.
So I did the natural thing, which was to haul the mattresses out into the hallway (I still had boxes of belongings piled in the center of the room) and pull both beds by their headboards longside-up. I set them across from each other against one wall, double-stacking the mattresses on the floor between them, with comforters and sheets draped across the upper structure.
Whitney, convinced it will collapse, said, 'Your bed is going to be the death of you.'
Bianca noted, 'You can't have sex in that thing.' I had to laugh at this, for I imagine no relationship will ever progress far enough that anyone will see my bed and think about The Nasty. I am content to sleep with Kermit for another year. The bed is that cool.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:28 PM]
Why An Aqueduct?
Monday, August 08, 2005
Tomorrow I shall journey forth for an eyeball exam. Then I might have to purchase glasses. I do not want glasses. Glasses hurt my face.
Now it is time for aqueduct research. I need to write a two thousand-word essay and construct a model within the next two weeks. Rebekah has agreed to help in regards to obtaining and using materials. How does one make a static model of an aqueduct interesting? I kind of want to make it fall down- perhaps have the Goths come in and stomp on it.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:23 AM]
My Stress Rainbow
Saturday, August 06, 2005
I set up my planner for the fall, with classes colour-coded in neat array. Jessica and April O (two girls I work with) were impressed that I even incorporated times each weekday morning to ellipticize (represented by a block of sunflower yellow). The planner is as yet incomplete, for I must next integrate a work schedule, which I have not coordinated with Ali, the manager at the campus minimart to which I shall return for the fall (at least initially). Work will probably be blue, it being the bane of my existence.
Yesterday after the German final, I telephoned my aunt Debbie, who inquired as to when I should next return to the K-hole. The soonest opportunity is Thanksgiving, which I might manage if I have cash on hand for the bus tickets. Otherwise, it will again be winter break before anyone sees my hopefully-slightly-thinner face.
Then I called my aunt Pam, hearing much background noise of rambunctious little monkey children. 'Twould appear my mother's older sister, Barbara, is getting remarried today; I had called as Pam was getting dressed for the rehearsal dinner.
This is more scandalous than The Father remarrying. Barbara and her husband divorced when I was in third grade, and though she might go on the sporadic date, she dislikes people and therefore does not habitually engage in time with them. I would describe Aunt Barbara as a coldly beautiful woman, austere, with piercing blue eyes (sort of like mine, perhaps a bit lighter). She and my mom both were very pretty, but uptight and self-conscious to the point that neither exacted many benefits from it. Barbara is with all sincerity probably the world's hottest grandma (she is only forty-seven, but her eldest son, Caleb, has two hatchlings).
I wonder who the handsome young man might be, who could turn such a stubborn, willful, slightly-deranged (my mother and her four sisters are all batty, no denial) soul. I rather hope Barbara finds herself in the family way- that would be hilarious.
Anyhow, I must hold curiosity until tomorrow, when I shall call Pammy back to be filled with further gossipy detail.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:08 PM]
I Do Seek Italy Not By Desire
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Yesterday I travelled alone to purchase a bathing suit, as I am taking a beginning swimming class this fall. Possessing little foresight I meandered first through Dillard's, having forgotten momentarily that Dillard's is for monied little girls, which I am not. I tried on three two-piece suits (onesies are for ten year-olds and old people), two of which were quite obviously meant for tubby girls, and looked that way on me. The third is a brown bikini (the top and bottom match, but did not come together) that ties at the neck and behind the back. The boobies have thin blue, black, and pale yellow stripes. I felt comfortable in it, despite being jiggly, so I closed my eyes tight and let the girl at the counter take my magic swipey. Then I looked around other places at the mall, but nothing comparable or better appeared.
So for the next three weeks, I am not eating, ever, and I will do two hundred sit-ups every morning and before bed.
This morning I took the Latin exam for which I had studied at a devotion level of approximately "medium, well-condensed". I recognized both passages well, and Sharada chose relatively easy words for us to parse. I ought to finish with an "A".
About the German I am not as certain, for I scored mere "B"s on two of four essays, with low "A"s on the tests. A "B" on this final ought to be easily cinched, but an "A" would require that I study, which I as usual am not at all prepared to do.
But after tomorrow's German final there will be no more teachers' dirty looks for three weeks. Ausgezeichnet.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:48 AM]