Sunday, December 25, 2005
Having updated the links, I thought I might read through some of the weblogs I have not viewed in a while. I usually neglect the ones by the kids with whom I work, for I see them enough to consistently update myself on their doings.
Elliott and Amber recently discussed how they would like their bodies, upon expiration, disposed of. Elliott's sentiments essentially reproduce mine, but Amber also added that the element of guilt disinclines her to be buried, as it imposes constant cultivation upon living relatives.
That sentiment reminds me of the current status of my mother's grave: immediately afterward, The Father set a nice bench in front of the plot, and he planted two crepe myrtles, which he and my sister, Kailey, diligently tended. Her tombstone itself is of a kind unique to the graveyard (in old Katy, by the golf course) and was undoubtedly expensive. It reminds me that burial monuments display as much information about the erector as the deceased. The impish desire creeps sometimes into my mind to plant a sign beside the headstone, reading, "Yeah, but all through junior high and high school, Mark Keith refused to buy his daughter a TI-83 calculator, claiming it was 'extra' and far too expensive." It amuses me to reflect that I would have to die before The Father would lavish any semblance of the attention I require.
A girl I worked with at the beginning of this fall semester (before I returned to Sam's Place, the campus minimart which has become the bane of my existence) commented about the general and almost constant state of stress in which she lives. When speaking with her, though, she seems well-balanced: not overly optimistic, nor cripplingly depressed.
I tend to fall under the latter category, because escape appears impossible. Though I "need" to work right now, I decided I need this break completely, for this past semester I've had three or four miniature breakdowns (in my room, crying on the floor). While ellipticizing a few days ago, I stepped off the machine with tears in my eyes, and not just because I'm still tubby. When I express this to people, I usually feel shallow afterward, since nothing I experience is what I would consider an insurmountable adversity. It distresses me that I am too weak to contend with my obligations.
Jenna Fontenot posted the following senseless, but nevertheless interesting, exercise, which I filled for myself:
Drag Name first pet; first street lived on
"Bullet El Medano"
Movie Star Name paternal grandmother's first name; favorite snack
"Fleta Snickers"
Fashion Designer Name first word seen at left; favorite restaurant
"Subscription St. Louis Bread Company"
"Fly Girl" Name initial of first name; first three letters of middle name
"L. Fra"
Detective Name favorite animal; high school
"Flying Squirrel Katy"
Soap Opera Name middle name; city of birth
"Frances Houston"
Opposite Sex Name father's name; cell phone service company currently used
"Mark Virgin Mobile"
Star Wars Name first three letters of surname, last three letters of mother's maiden name, first three letters of pet's name
"Keiheybul"
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:57 PM]