Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tonight, if I have finished studying for tomorrow's Greek exam (like a good egg), I shall watch someone (presumably from the music department) perform the organ works of Bach. Mayhaps William will be there, as well; talking with him is always an excellent distraction for my stress-plagued mind.
For the next three hours I must complete the Latin homework and read the last few pages of the philosophy assignment. Then I have classes, including the dreaded swimming course, from which I played hooky Tuesday. We were to have learned the butterfly, as I recall, so now I am behind.
At the moment I have a 3.9 GPA, which can only be destroyed by this swimming class.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:51 AM]
The Return Of The Split Ends
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
I biked to the student recreation center this morning, but finding it rather difficult of a sudden to pedal, I detoured to park at the Education building. There I discovered the front tire had gone flat. Both tires, flat, in the space of two weeks. I am miffed. For the back, I went last week for a No Mor Flats tube, but now 'twould appear I must fork out another twenty dollars for a second. Scheisse.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:55 PM]
Someone Wants To Steal My Bike
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Berna happened to be walking out the door of the foreign language building as I exited Latin class. She remarked that I had a nicer bike than hers, then was off and away before I unclasped my lock [the one on my bike, Louis]. Berna mobilizes herself at four or five times the rate of other people. She has been observed on her bike navigating through traffic wearing heels, toting a medium-sized, sehr chic Puma bag, while holding a coffee.
I halt not at stop signs, for starting up again is still for me an awkward process, during which I might get run over. This biking to class business is going to be the death of me.
The study abroad fair came to campus this afternoon, which again aroused my interest in enrolling in any one of the programs, in any country. I did reject the idea of teaching in Thailand, though: I read through part of the brochure and remain unconvinced that I might not be cast off in some random hut to be used as manual labor during the rainy season.
Der Studium in Ausländer kostet zu viele. But poring over the glossy brochures and reading website course lists makes me indescribably happy, as though I have experienced it all vicariously.
Ich muss deutsch studieren. Danach muss ich Philosophie lesen. Da ist so viele zu tun.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:16 PM]
I Am A Brain In A Vat
Preparing for the day is the time during which I feel most dislocated. Second to this comes the endless work shift, wherein I stand in front of the register with a calm, dispossessed expression as I ring people for chicken strips and fries. I waste every moment thinking about moving forward rather than actually so doing.
Sigh.
Ein Jugend gleicht mich. Er hat rote Haare und er spielt Volleyball. Er kam gestern Abend zur Arbeit um zu "Hi" sagen. Das ist alles er gesagt konnte, weil ich arbeitete mussten. [April, correct my grammar] This is the same guy who asked me last semester where I was staying, and I responded with, "Why?" I am admittedly concerned that someone could miss such a glaring signal. Er ist sehr nett, aber...
The distinction between customers at Sam's who might want to get into my underwear and those who are merely friendly people is at times mightily blurred. I find my state of being severely asexual for the most part advantageous, but when analyzing the motivations of others, I am a bit naive, or I project how I in their position might react (which is, of course, usually to some degree opposite of how they actually would behave).
People are weirdos.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:17 AM]
Stood Up
Monday, September 26, 2005
Bianca cancelled our date, so I elliptized instead. Then I read some German, and then I worked all evening. More than one person came to the register late last night, looked up at me with some surprise, and said, "Wow... you're here all the time!" [This is the exact phrase] Stimmt. Ich habe keine Leben.
Heute während Mitagessen treffe ich mit Dr. Borst um deutschen Hauptfach deklarieren. This means I shall be stuck in the armpit of America for another two years, vielleicht, but my reading knowledge, at least, will be unassailable.
Jetzt ich muss griechisch studieren. Dann habe ich deutsch. Immer deutsch. Ich hoffe Dr. Lavigne hier werde; er sollt heute hier züruck sein.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:00 AM]
Inches Are Better Than Nothing
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Today will essentially reproduce the activities of yesterday, except I work later in the afternoon until later in the evening. Before then, in lieu of ellipticizing I shall play racquetball with Bianca and read a chapter for German class. This last will consume quite a bit more time than one might suppose, for though I recognize most forms, my vocabulary is itself nicht so gut.
I had, in theory, wanted to swim this afternoon as well before work time, but 'twould appear the pool is closed for repairs. Over the summer, I recall something internal broke and shut the pool down for about a week. My swimming instructor said it is to be closed again in late November through the end of the school year to facilitate those repairs (something having to do with the piping system). I might have to swim every week, then, at the pool where we actually hold class, which wurde kein Spass machen, because that facility is always very humid, despite the pool itself being set at arctic temperatures.
As usual, this weekend is not too exciting. During the week I need to concentrate on studying for upcoming tests and on not eating when stressed. At Stammtisch on Friday I ought to remember to ask Kelly if she knows how to kill aliens. She seems like the sort who might possess the resources necessary.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:30 AM]
Nothing Too Constructive
Saturday, September 24, 2005
I arose at nine to ellipticize, then walked back to the dorm to take a shower. Before working an eight-hour shift in the greasy land of food service that is Sam's II: Chitwood/Weymouth, I shall eat something, probably greasy, but perhaps not, if they still have tuna wraps. Ich esse gern Tuna.
When I get off work, I shall ellipticize again, if I am not too exhausted. Then I can read before bedtime.
Das alles.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:15 AM]
Kids Say The Darndest Things
Friday, September 23, 2005
George W. Bush, on travelling to Texas to head off Hurricane Rita: "There will be no risk of me getting in the way. What I will do is observe." The people living on the Gulf Coast need therefore expect no divine intervention.
"Perhaps they should write their Social Security numbers on their arms in indelible ink." The governor of Louisiana, Kathleen Blanco, makes me happy.
I read Hesiod's Theogeny auf englisch, and am now searching for a decent Latin version. Then I shall return to the Lauree Lair for a restful night of reading. Das macht Spass.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:56 PM]
Altertumskunde
Thursday, September 22, 2005
I left the papers I had printed out last night for an upcoming Deutschkurs research project at work. Scheisse. I decided to collect information on the topic Studium in Deutschland, which ought not be too schwierig. Before work I printed sample exams for the German language proficiency test, plus an application to study as a foreign student at the Universität zu Köln.
I chose the last date to present (sometime in late November, ich denke), so I might have time to write to an academic advisor or two at a few universities about studying zum Beispiel Klassische Archäeologie oder Altertumskunde. Ausgezeichnet.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:04 AM]
Ich bin ein Dusch
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Yesterday I went to the pool for the first time to clock in the half hour of swimming I must complete outside of class. I am supposed to swim laps, practicing class drills. So I stood in the pool at one edge and read the ancient sexuality textbook for about an hour and-a-half. I wrote in the little log book that my stomach hurt, and I practiced kicking instead.
Over the summer I developed a farmer's tan that contrasts quite sharply with my lily-white skin. Thus, I only applied SPF lotion to my face, neck, and forearms, leaving everything else to crispen. And crispen it did. My, how it crispened: it burns. Rolling out of bed this morning hurt more than usual.
I do not want to tan, but if I must have a colour, I would that it be uniform.
Last night at work, one of the "regulars" came in with his friends, as usual. They're all rather loud and obnoxious, and I find him, in particular, to be a bit of a dousche. He is always nice enough to me, but I do not approve of how he behaves. Anyhow, when guys come up to the register, they often joke around with me, or make strange/lewd/bizarre comments, which I typically respond to with my own characteristic bizarreness.
This regular (who I shall henceforth refer to as "Doo-Rag Boy", for he wears a doo-rag) put his food on the counter and asked, "Can I have your number?" I presumed he was joshing, for no one ever hits on me in earnest, so I looked at him with comic incredulity and shrieked, "No!" His jaw dropped, and I then realized, belatedly, that he was not kidding.
Uh-oh.
After a second, he said, "Oh, I see how it is," which made me feel doubly guilty, for I had meant to imply nothing about his blackitudiness- but he probably wouldn't have been any more receptive if I had told him, "Du bist ein Dusch- es tut mir Leid."
I scribbled my cell number for him (on register tape) nevertheless, and I assured him with, "Well, I promise it's real". But if I were he, I wouldn't call me.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:25 AM]
Wurdst du meine Name kennen?
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Ich habe dieses Abend mit meine Freunden an AIM gesprochen. Aber Richard sagte, "Ich muss mit meinen Hund spielen, weil sie breaking everything ist." Jeremy hat bessere Deutsch. Er geht zu Stammtisch mit seiner Freundin, Kelly. Sie hat auch ein Vati, der ein Esel ist.
Wir haben einen Professor, Dr. Grair, der sie heissen "Grair-Bear". Das ist sehr lustig. Mein Professor ist dieses Semester Dr. Bonzo. Er kommt aus Austin, und Kelly hat gesagt, dass er eine Dusch ist. Ich fragte sie (auf Stammtisch), warum sie das dankte. Er hat ein Bisschen Hohe-meinung von (ihm) selbst. Ich finde das auch sehr lustig. Und natürlich, ich heisse ihm "Der Bonzo", "Der Fonzo", oder, wie Kelly, "Bonzie".
Ich habe Eike ergezahlt, das Der Bonzo netten Schuhe hat. Eike hat mich gefragt, was ich tun wurde, wenn Der Bonzo (er habe "Dr. Bonzo" gesagt) hat teueren Schuhe. Ich habe gedankt, dass ich sagen wurde: "Du hast netten Schuhe, aber sie sind sehr teuer. Darf ich sie haben?" Eike hat mich gesagt, dass ich das nicht sagen kann. Ich habe gesagt, "Aber warum nicht? Deine Weg ist sehr langweilig."
Es ist schon eins Uhr... das saugt. Ich muss zum Bett gehen.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:12 PM]
Bishopry
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Last night I rode the bus to Stammtisch, which is the bi-weekly German Club/faculty/student get-together thingy at a "downtown" bar ("downtown" would not be in quotes if I considered Lubbock a real city). I saw Eike and asked him the question which had been plaguing my little mind since the night before last, namely, "Was ist einer Kurfürst?" I knew "der Fürst" meant "prince", but the text I was reading für meine Kulturkurs mentioned "der Kurfürst Friedrich der Weise", which I found nowhere.
Eike cleared the matter by explaining that a Kurfürst was elected (before and during the Reformation period) by certain nobles, or something, as a bishop sort of position. Heredity played a role as well, somehow, but it was not the only requisite. An online dictionary translated the word into English as "elector", which Eike said is correct, but does not connotate for me anything related to the Catholic church and politics, for obviously in twentieth-century America the two do not quite meld.
Berna, the Turkish-German graduate student who taught the first semester German class I took this summer, told me excitedly about a conference she applied for taking place in January. She is worried she may not receive funding, though, for she graduates in December. I sympathized, sharing the tale of this whole aqueduct research fiasco. Her papers would be about journalistic language in Spanish, German, and American newspapers after September 11, 2001- studying the rhetoric used in times of crisis, ich glaube. Das ist sehr interessant, und vielleicht hat viel Arbeit gemacht. Es wurde saugt, wenn sie nicht gehen kann.
Ich muss jetzt zur Arbeit gehen. Es saught.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:03 AM]
Bees Buzz
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I am a busy little bee. I attend class, I read for class, I work four nights a week, soon I shall swim outside of class at least once a week, and every once in a while I meet up with someone for lunch. Today at approximately ten minutes before noon I shall be phoned by Rebekah. Wir treffen mit, ich weiss nicht wo. Ich habe kein Hunger, aber ich werde viellicht ein Eis essen.
Ich habe gestern mein deutsch Lesen lesen vergessen. Das habe gesaugt. Es war uber die Reformation Martin Luthers. Ich liebe Martin Luther. Und die Almosen. Mmm... die Almosen.
Sallie Mae has not yet disbursed my student loan. She needs to hurry up, or I shan't be able to register early for spring. I spoke about a week ago with a real human being (ich glaube), who informed me I need to do nothing further. I went online a few days later to confirm this, but was informed my records are not in the system. I then phoned again, but received a prompter that ran my data through and again claimed I need do nothing else. But it has been over three weeks now since I sent in all the paperwork and such. This makes me extremely nervous, for next week the University begins issuing holds. Argh.
I want to quit school.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:28 AM]
Cuius Cuius Cuius
Monday, September 12, 2005
Dr. Lavigne (the ancient sexuality instructor) left for Florida, having had a "family emergency", to quote Dr. Larmour, which means class this afternoon was cancelled. I considered utilizing this time for my swimming assignment (half an hour in the pool outside of class), but I work immediately afterward until two in the morning, so I would rather wait until tomorrow.
I went with every good intention to the foreign language building, zu Latein studieren, aber Steve hat mit mir gesprochen... und gesprochen... und gesprochen. Then I visited the Germans for a couple of minutes, until Eike had to leave for his class. Now I suppose I ought to finish Latin and read the philosophy text before I scurry off to another horrid evening of asking people if they would like ketchup or barbecue sauce with their fries. Quatsch.
As an afterthough, I shall document as well that I dropped the ancient history course: I never make the trip across campus on time. I bought the books used, so I might keep them.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:23 PM]
Aque-Suck
Friday, September 09, 2005
Dr. Reed spoke with the person who was supposed to have been in charge of undergraduate research funding this year, to discover that a) that person now heads the biology department, b) there is no current vice president of undergraduate funding and c) classics undergraduates get no money. Therefore, I cannot go to the CASUS conference and present my little aqueduct, because I would not be reimbursed afterward.
Fine. I still have all my teeth.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:48 PM]
Eye Crusher
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I went through a full morning and afternoon of classes yesterday on four hours of sleep, then spent the evening with a compadre (Jared), who helped me put air back in my bike tire, after we replaced the inner tube. I rode the bike to Sam's, but upon riding back, I discovered the tire had gone flat again. An entire evening wasted.
At work I developed a massive stress headache, which caused my right eye to redden and water. I probably frightened people.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:22 AM]
Feeling Jiggly Again
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
I spoke with Dr. Reed for about twenty minutes concerning the conference trip. I shall miss all classes except Greek, in which I have a quiz. Friday afternoon the three of us (Tim, Erik, and little me) present our models to Dr. Reed and some of the other Classics faculty (I doubt they would all put in appearances...). Optimally the paper will be finished tonight, tweaked tomorrow, prepared Thursday, and presentable Friday.
Erik hasn't even started his model yet.
I met Rebekah for lunch. She expressed much joy at the gift card, which made me relieved. I am pleased to know her style. We chatted about our classes, hers, being retailing, being especially pointless. All the material is either self-evident or to be gained from experience, except the instructor presents it on slides. I would not arise at nine-thirty for such nonsense, and Rebekah loathes it.
If I taught a retailing class, I would bring in piles of shirts and have a student detail-fold every one of them, arranging them on a display from left to right, light colours to dark. I might have her place a sign or two. I'd stand back, perhaps offer some critique, and then I would run up and knock down the entire thing.
"Put everything back the way it was, in two minutes, starting... NOW."
Heh-heh. That is the world of retail.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:42 AM]
De Aqueductu, Protection
Monday, September 05, 2005
Throughout the empire the Romans seemed to spare little expense constructing aqueducts, supplying cities prosperous enough to afford them with a lavish system of water distribution that could potentially realign urban structures. As exemplified at Pompeii, an aqueduct was not necessary to support the water needs of many Roman communities; most domi incorporated a well or cistern collecting unpolluted rainwater as a matter of course. The public fountains at Pompeii itself were positioned such that the majority of its citizens carried water no more than fifty meters. Plenty of large cities, especially those of Britain, never acquired aqueduct-supplied water. Aqueducts were introduced to some important urban areas, such as the port city of Ostia, only much later in the empire in relation to the nine established at Rome itself by the time of Frontinus, who wrote De Aquis Urbis Romae in AD 97.
An aqueduct, then, was a luxury good, not an essential commodity. However, its service to a community signified an important connection to Rome, for it made possible the construction of more extravagant baths, fountains, and gardens. Baths, for instance, could and did exist without an aqueduct supply, but this lacking limited size and the volume of water available.
Additionally, households received a constant, unending flow of fresh water, displacing sole reliance on stored rainwater. Collecting rainwater usually sufficed, but could prove inadequate during particularly dry months. Though it is difficult to precisely assess accurate amounts, a typical Roman household might consume in one day what a modern household consumes in two months. Notions of water conservation did not occur to the Romans, who at any rate did utilize excess water to flush city drains and streets. Less potable water, such as that of Rome’s Alsietina aqueduct, could be diverted for gardening or irrigation.
Visibly asserting a community’s importance and considerably the most recognizable feature of an aqueduct, arcades were usually constructed within the final several kilometers of the channel’s approach to a city. Interesting studies of this particular element abound, but I nevertheless found myself asking the question A. Trevor Hodges states many modern students of classical technology ponder, ‘How did it all work?’
The evidence for the answer is sometimes complicated, at least for someone such as myself who is of minimal engineering bend, and certainly scanty, there existing only two main ancient literary sources devoting works to the subject and a very limited archaeological record. These have their own restrictions, which I shall discuss as I encounter them, and perhaps, as a result of those limitations, Hodges’ Roman Aqueducts and Water Supply is the most detailed recent English publication to probe the matter. It is also, as I have discovered, the one most paraphrased on classical websites illustrating the Roman aqueduct system, which were therefore not at all useful to me in my model conceptualization.
I shall address first, then, the notable omission of an arcade from my model, with the simplified explanation that it is an element about which one may find information more readily with a website search engine. My brief explanation should not be viewed as a dismissal, but the arcades are nonetheless nonessential to my overall theme of how the Romans used gravity to force water from source A to city B in a day or less. Also, the arcades were brilliant architectural marvels which I could not hope to recreate, for I have never molded anything beautiful with my own hands. My model effectively demonstrates the principal of constant throughput, which is my aim, but I shall not pretend that it does so with any finesse.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:36 PM]
Ich Bin Kaputt
The camper cooler (which I bought at the beginning of the summer in lieu of an actual minifridge, which would have been more expensive) died last week, which impedes my lifestyle in the sense that I must eat at the dining hall more often, for it provides the cold drinks I require. I may commence hording fountain water, after acquiring a suitable vessel for it.
Last night/early this morning I worked at Sam's, to which the freshman football players apparently frequent, they living at that particular dorm. They all admired the football shoulder strap necklace thingy I've worn since high school, and one of them (the white guy, notably) told me my necklace was "tight", a term I thought well-antiquated by sixth grade. But he was a nice enough boy.
Sometimes people wonder aloud if my necklace might not be a spatula. Or they inquire as to whether it is from Africa, or if it has spiritual significance. Perhaps it does; I suppose I must allow for the possibility of there existing African football gods, to whom the boys pray for success in such a classic sport film as Remember the Titans.
Anyhow, I came to the computer lab to write the ten-page aqueduct report for that conference I shall attend soon, but encountered the following obstacle: I forgot my pen drive. Also, the printer appears unoperational. Thus I have decided to type here an entry, walk next door to Sam's for a soda pop, then return to the dorm room to construct a very detailed outline, which I may then draft tomorrow morning before meeting Rebekah for lunch.
She turned twenty-two, I believe, this past Sunday, so when I went out with Bianca this weekend, I purchased a gift card to New York & Company, the sort of place Rebekah would frequent. I went there for the first time when I lived in St. Louis, following my cousin, Krista, who shops there because their pants run long (Krista is five-eight, or thereabouts). For occasions when I must appear presentable, I find this store supplies decent tops.
Having diverted myself long enough, I must vanish.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:17 AM]
Yet Another Stolen Template
Saturday, September 03, 2005
I spent an undue amount of time searching for a better template.
I did find, with Bianca's aid, a purple-and-black swimming suit at Academy. It was not a costly item.
We also found a few paints for the aqueduct, though I forgot the potting soil. It would be cheaper to steal dirt, of which Lubbock is not in short supply.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:53 PM]
Mein Kopf Tut Mir Weh
Friday, September 02, 2005
The past several days have been spent on minimal sleep, which gradually erodes my brain tissue, makes me break out with numerous zits and red facial marks, and turns my eyes bleary red.
Tomorrow I need to journey forth for acrylic paints to seal the aqueduct and potting soil to bury it in (the money for which I do not have). Then I shall darken the doors of Academy to find a onepiece bathing suit (an additional expenditure).
I'm an expensive little thing.
Sunday, one of my Sam's managers (Paul) assured me, I shall be informed of my schedule, which I shall then incorporate into the rest of my weeks, so that I may then finally schedule an eye doctor appointment and an ear doctor appointment. Going blind or deaf would impair my life plans.
Ich bin zu müde zu schreiben.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:20 PM]
A Drowned Sewer Rat
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Today I borrowed a shirt from the coach to wear over my bikini, which I must replace with a sporty onepiece by the next class meeting. Fortunately, I did receive meager payment from having worked during the interim for a few office shifts (I may afford the swimsuit). Unfortunately, more dinero will not arrive for another two weeks, which could spell "scariness" when the time arrives to pay my lovely credit card bills... but I ought to be fine.
Dr. Reed caught me as I entered German the other day (she teaches ancient Near Eastern art in that same classroom), to mention she had sent the program itinerary via postal mail, and to remark pointedly that presentations occur next week. I did not mention that I have not written my ten-page presentation yet, nor that I am still not finished building my little model. These dadgum classes and office shifts keep obstructing progress.
Erik, who is supposed to enlighten conference attendees as to the mechanical operations of ancient temple door openers, tapped my shoulder after class today to inform me he has not even begun building his model yet (again: we drive to Riudoso September sixteenth). I double-fived him, delightedly feeling better about my own procrastination. Tim, the grad student (and, therefore, the adult of the trio), wrote his paper long ago and has revised it several times during the summer. I earnestly wish I could motivated myself to do likewise, but I admittedly approached this entire situation in a far-too-relaxed manner.
But Erik attended last year, and he seems perfectly nonchalant. And at most, I might be telling seventeen people about the hydraulics of the Roman aqueduct system. With a miniscule likelihood that anyone will have too much background knowledge, I ought to be fine. No one will stone me to death if I err or neglect something, but I will nevertheless aim for a fabulous presentation, replete with water effects.
Maybe I'll drown.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:03 PM]