Monday, February 27, 2006
Dr. Lavigne continues to insist I find some way to fill out the parental portion of the FAFSA. In a moment I intend to darken the doors of the newly-refurbished Financial Aid Office, which I suspect will do nothing for me, but I might at least have finality with that issue. In August or September the counselor I visited counseled that the University will not consider me an independent student, essentially, unless I either marry or turn twenty-three. Conveniently, I do not turn twenty-three until a month before I would graduate. The counselor handed me a sheet of private loan sources, which, of course, is not helpful, either, because I do not make enough to qualify for any of them.
How amusing, that I make several thousand dollars below the national poverty level, but am convolutedly ineligible for financial aid. Ich haße mein Leben.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:01 PM]
Attracted To Chili-And-Cheese Fries
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Manfred Korfmann war heute nachmittag ignoriert. Ich habe mein Zimmer geputzt. Es war sehr schmutzig.
I woke up later than I had intended and played on Dieter for only about fifteen minutes (just enough to sweat a bit). Then I spent the next three or four hours cleaning the room, writing mail, and organizing schoolwork.
Over the past week I managed to lose four or five pounds, having abstained sucessfully from any soda pop and candy bars. For dinner this evening I consumed chili-and-cheese fries I probably could have lived through the night without, but I could probably burn most of that off, if I stock the Coke vault. That usually requires a significant amount of bending and lifting, for an hour or more, depending upon how well I do the job.
If I am a good little egg, I should knock myself down to one hundred forty-eight pounds of Lauree-goodness by next Sunday, which would set me to the level at which I left high school. If I get that far, I should, theoretically, be motivated enough to lose more weight. If I lose fifteen more pounds by my birthday, I shall feel confident enough to shave my head again. Das wurde wunderbar sein. Maintaining my hair's cleanliness requires too much exertion.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:41 PM]
Ich Woll Den Drucker Zerstorben
Friday, February 24, 2006
Fortunately, my greatest source of stress this past week has stemmed from the intense dryness of my skin, which has in several inconvenient areas of my hands cracked and bled. No amount of lotion-lathering avails.
Manfred Korfmann, the second immediate cause for anxiety, will hopefully disappear from that internal list after this weekend, especially tomorrow, which I intend to devote almost exclusively to him. The current plan is to arise around six or seven, eat some of the Special K April sent (adding a sliced banana), read through the articles I printed out already, work out, conduct research at the library, and work (at six in the evening). I wrote a strong thesis, for which concrete support might come in short supply.
At present I must begin the next Kurzgeschichte, "Templones Ende" by Martin Walser.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:58 PM]
United Takeover
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Between classes this morning I purchased Kailey Marie's birthday present, which the school bookstore had discounted by twenty percent, this being Black History Month. Of course, as I stood in line I thought to myself: Hmmm... does marking down the price on this anthology cheapen the lives of black Americans?
I did not have time to ponder the question too deeply, however, for I had to scurry back to the foreign language building to attend the German readings class, which was delightful as always. It let out early enough that I had time to eat soup and a chicken Caesar wrap (microwaved: muy bueno). Now, unfortunately, I am to interrupt my life with an eight-hour work shift, which ends at nine o'clock. Afterward, depending upon the level of exhaustion at which I find myself, I shall either ellipticize or sally straight to the dorm to study for tomorrow's Greek exam.
Tomorrow I must again be a busy bee, waking up to study Greek, create fliers for the next Classical Society event, write an assignment for German Conversation, and at some point contact the German Club president about t-shirts, which we should have received many moons ago. I also would like to read further in the Schliemann book.
So much to do, and so little Lauree.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:40 AM]
Questioning
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I took an online survey for the Student Counseling Center. The best question: "What is your sexual orientation?" the answers to which were
heterosexualI selected "questioning", more because I am questioning the applicability of sexual terms than because I am questioning my own sexual identity. I shrink from the idea of being pawed by anyone- man, girl, or goat. Touching is icky.
homosexual
bisexual
questioning
I woke up this morning around seven-thirty, ate, showered, and had all good intents of reading for the Trojan/Mycenaean art seminar. The book provides much hilarity, particularly the illustration of a Cycladic bear/hedgehog/cute little animal. However, I found myself incredibly lethargic, and instead settled on a couch upstairs in the foreign language building to doze, mouth hanging open. I arose about two hours later to attend Greek class, wherein we reviewed for the participle and comparatives exam Friday, about which I feel relatively confident. I need to memorize the principal parts of the verb for "to beget/be begotten" and review vocabulary, but I recognize participial forms now with a fair degree of readiness during class.
I am woefully behind in my research for the Manfred Korfmann paper. I should have a couple of hours this afternoon, with all afternoon and evening Friday and, theoretically, all day Saturday. A rough rough draft is due either Tuesday or Thursday of next week, of a paper expected to attain ten pages by the end of the semester. Depending on the amount of information I obtain, this could be a breeze or a nightmare.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:26 AM]
I'm Chipper All The Day
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I shall listen to Judy Garland as I venture dormroomward tonight. At the moment I am encamped at the Rec, where I rode next to Wolfdietrich another bicycle apparatus. That one, contra Wolfdietrich, has a television screen affixed to its head. Perhaps I ought to call it "Aulus". That seems apt.
This evening I made good conversation with Megan at her apartment as she began sewing the armwarmers I commissioned. I brought along the German book about Mycenaean, Cretan, and Trojan archaeology, which contains at the back forty or fifty pages of illustrations, maps, and diagrams. I set to deciphering for myself/Megan the German appelations, most of which were not particularly complicated, but my ready comprehension of them nonetheless impressed Megan.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:17 PM]
Ich Bin Erfreut
Monday, February 20, 2006
I wrote one page of the next German story analysis, which is due tomorrow. The other page will most likely be penned during the early hours of tomorrow morning, immediately prior to the Troy seminar... perhaps running into it.
I considered paying my housing department tomorrow afternoon, but Rachel informed me she had found apartments on the bus route for $395 pro Monat. Provided the lease does not absolutely require a minimum income or credit amount, I would be pleased as punch to room with Rachel, who is one of the few people on the planet who does not irritate me. I shall have to make room this week to speak with the leasing office.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:16 PM]
Twenty Pounds Too Heavy
Sunday, February 19, 2006
I worked last night from six in the p.m. until two in the a.m., then woke up again for another eight-hour cycle from eight this morning until four in the afternoon. I am not too tired, though, and shall journey forth momentarily to ride Dieter and read Tacitus on Wolfdietrich or Javier, depending upon who is occupied. Natürlich, I brought along Rammstein's Live Aus Berlin as the accompaniment to Dieter, as well as the background music at work. Das hat viel Spaß gemacht.
Now that I am secured a promotion, I anticipate a slightly easier semester. On Mondays and Wednesdays I work from six p.m. to two a.m., but I have now reduced those shifts, sauntering in at eight rather than six, which allows five hours between my last class (German Conversation and Composition) and work. I intend to use this four hours of my life regained to study Latin independently under the direction of Dr. Holland, as well as to nap before work. Viel Spaß.
I ordered two boxes of Girl Scout cookies from a lady with whom I work. They ought to provide a much-needed digression from my usual diet of chips and tuna salad.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:10 PM]
Ameisenhaufen
Saturday, February 18, 2006
On Tuesday I must turn in an essay analyzing either of two short stories: "Wanderer, kommst du nach Spa" or "Seegeister". Everyone will write about the former in order to avoid the latter, which was difficult to comprehend. Naturally, I shall force myself to write about "Seegeister", despite the fact that I did not understand the action, though the most basic meaning (as conveniently discussed in class) is clear enough. Favourably, the professor admitted she really does not know of any "proper" interpretation for "Seegeister", which gives me ample latitude to supply the convolutions of my mind.
Most of my failings (besides grammatical) in writing the first essay consisted of poor or inadequate expression. My English is awkward enough, but trying to write that way auf Deutsch, without a strong knowledge of German sentence construction, presents countless difficulties. The professor wrote that she liked the complex ideas I presented, but that I ought to concentrate more on thinking in German, then writing in German, rather than trying to correlate my English to German. That makes sense enough, and where I did write with what I already knew, I made only grammatical (usually verb tense or adjective ending) mistakes.
For the next two hours, I need to work out my ideas for the "Seegeister" essay as I straighten the Lauree Lair and organize tasks for the coming week or two. I need to prepare better for my German classes, especially Conversation, which I missed a few times (on quiz days, natürlich). Fortunately, the department shows German movies for extra credit every couple of weeks.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:48 AM]
I Will Not Go Climbing
Friday, February 17, 2006
Tim, Sharada, and Matt tried convincing me last night that I ought to try climbing. I make any excuse, but they each swear it is a most rewarding pursuit. Anyone who has ever met me would probably laugh at this next statement, but I shall make it nevertheless: I do not want to look silly. I am just self-conscious enough that the notion of clinging desperately to a wall dozens of feet skyward, with several fit, athleticly-inclined people below half-consciously scrutinizing my unfit, unathleticly-inclined ass, creates an insurmountable mountain of anxiety. Matt says it will burn calories, and Sharada says I don't need to use my arms ("you just step up"), but neither of these things changes the fact that I am insecure.
Matt and Dr. Lavigne both teased me about riding the bike that goes nowhere and the elliptical machine that also gets me noplace, because they do not understand the triumph over mental adversity I made to even do those things. My body has always connived against me. It never does what I want it to do, and it seems to constantly break in odd places, such as my ear, my shins, and my thumb tips. The stuff I am doing right now is easy and painless- I need to build my strenghth and coordination with the bike and with equipment in the weight room before I would feel confident enough to add a "real sport" to my fitness repertoire. Of course, this logic is entirely impractical, but... I doubt I would enjoy rock-climbing, anyhow.
In other news, Ali (the head manager at Sam's) met with me the other day to discuss my recent two weeks' notice notice. I had assumed he merely wanted to determine why I was leaving and wish me a semi-sincere good-luck, but he instead offered to promote me to Head of Training, along with another guy, Duane. Duane originally would have been the only person promoted, but Ali might convince the people above him that he employs enough people to warrant a second trainer.
I love Duane to pieces. He is very direct, and colossaly more practical and clear-sighted than I am. But I do have more than a semester over him, and if they had not promoted him, it would have been any other guy the managers felt they wanted to buddy-buddy with on weekends. I quit before I even knew who my managers were scrutininzing, because I did not have to be told it would never be me. I almost quit last semester, after they promoted JPat, a guy who only does something different every other day to get himself fired. I suspect my main disadvantages are my naivete about certain things and my tendency to act on decisions without considering every factor absolutely (e.g. quitting my job without securing another one first).
Another reason I wanted to quit, as I expressed to Duane last night: I have worked at Sam's over a year, and still do not know how to do certain minor things, such as change the dumpster, wash dishes (the bulky, odd-shaped things), make coffee, etc., that everyone ought to know how to do. I told Ali I had taken that as another indication that I would never be considered for a promotion. If I am not being trained fully, then I must not be worth employing. Why keep around someone who is undertrained? Der Arbeit ärgert mir.
At the moment I intend to play hooky from Stammtisch, in order to ride Dieter and Wolfdietrich and perhaps visit the weight room (depending on the volume of people therein). Then I need to fill out a few scholarship forms and make some headway on the next Greek assignment. Tomorrow I should devote to German (reading the next story) and expanding my research on Manfred Korfmann. With midterm fast approaching, I should finish reading the sections necessary for the Troy seminar.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:16 PM]
Here A Palace, There A Palace
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Dr. Lavigne, who is a nice person, advised that I ask The Father to fill out the parent information portion of the FAFSA. I tried expounding the reasons against this proposal, they namely being that a) The Father would refuse to do so and b) I would not have anything to do with him. All he wishes to do involves hurting me in some way, which is sick, wrong, disgusting, et cetera, all because I do not want his wife to do my laundry. I often fail to make nice people understand this situation. Ruinous though it is, I would drop out of school and live in a cardboard box before I would consider speaking with The Father again. He is utterly incapable of loving anyone, not even himself. I honestly hope Terri figures this small fact out and divorces him, before he irreparably damages her life, too.
Prior to the conversation with Dr. Lavigne, which we had in his car as he drove me back to the dorm, I ate a lovely Indian dinner with most of the Classics graduate students, Dr. Lavigne, and a few undergrads. I cannot remember what I ordered, but it filled me immensely and was muy bueno.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:55 PM]
Der See Ist Einer Gang
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
The skin to either side of the nails on both my thumbs cracked open this week, causing occasional bleeding and general aggravation. At work grease, disinfectant, Windex, smoothie syrup, and any number of other aggravators accumulate within the crevices, which resulted, I suspect, from the dry air. This latest incident again demonstrates the manner by which Lubbock, Texas is ruining my life.
As foresworn, yesterday before work I read a book by some since-deceased German classicist, which compounds the problems with reading a classical scholar with the problems of reading a classical scholar who writes in another language with the problems of reading a classical scholar who writes in another language and who published his work in 1956 and therefore writes in a slightly antiquated style as opposed to the ever-more colloquial language of the current literature whence my learning. But I concentrate on the text steadily enough that the hour-long bike ride to nowhere on Wolfdietrich passes quickly.
I rode Wolfdietrich again this afternoon prior to the SGA budget meeting, where I, Dr. Bonzo (Deutscher Klub advisor), and Brian (Klub Treasurer) were interrogated by two mild young men about the annual allocation of our funds. Afterward I copied portions from the preface of the aforementioned German book (which is about "Kreta, Mykene, und Troja") in order that I might look up the unrecognized words at some other time. Presently I shall read the final portion of "Der Seegeister", die nächste Kurzgeschichte für meine deutsche Kurs fällig. Das erste Teil war verrückt.
Unless I am especially tired, I might again return to the rec late this evening for the purpose of yet again riding Wolfdietrich, but rather this time with a shiny translation of Tacitus' The Annals of Imperial Rome, whose historical writing style is at the least entertaining if a bit inauthentic. It reads more rhetorically, as a series of stories (the German word for "history", "Geschichte", is also the word for "story", hence, "Kurzgeschichte". Sehr deutlich.).
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:30 PM]
Eigentlich Ist Es Mir Egal
Monday, February 13, 2006
I composed a lengthy, action-packed entry detailing the tribulations concerning my research into the work of Manfred Korfmann (German director of excavations at Troy, who died of lung cancer last August), but Blogger neither published it nor saved it in draft form. The entire world loses as a result, for I am too upset and too tired to recall everything I had intended to convey.
In lieu of checking out books I might need for research (these all either nonexistent or unavailable), I sticky-fingered three tomes of classical scholarship written by Germans, with the intent to read these first in their entirety without looking up the words I cannot immediately translate. I also took something by Heinrich Schliemann, the first fifty pages of which I read last night in my tent bed and have already found to be quite a comic exercise. Without expounding too much, suffice it to note that the Hellenic and Roman ruins Schliemann coincidentally found in his digs for "the real Troy" were never destroyed by him accidentally. He was always either "forced" or "obliged", by what or whom he leaves unmentioned.
Tomorrow I must be a busy bee, with classes until twelve-thirty, a meeting with representatives of the Student Government Association around two forty-five, and sometime afterward a get-together with Megan to work on our Trojan War research paper bibliographies. Presently shall I vacate the library to fetch one of the German books from my dormroom, whence I shall scurry with said book clutched nerdily to my chest to read it on Javier at the student recreation center. Scandalously, I did find another bike machine that I have come to favor more than Javier. As of yet it has no name, but I think "Wolfdietrich" might be suitable.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:04 PM]
Be Vewwy Quiet...
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Last night I informed Robbie that I no longer want to work (which did not particularly phase him), then added, 'Seriously. So what do I need to do?' I agreed to serve a final two weeks, ending with an eight-hour shift Saturday, February twenty-third. Sometime this afternoon I must notify Paul and Ali, who write schedules and are in charge of firing and hiring. Paul should arrive at Sam's around two this afternoon, so until then I shall remain in the adjacent computer lab, researching information about Manfred Korfmann for the Trojan War seminar.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:05 AM]
Makes Me Feel Like No Other
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Last night, as I walked dormroomward through gusty-winded coldness from Sam's II, clutching a cup of hot cocoa to my breast in manner similar to that a eunuch might take holding his organ jar, I contemplated ever strongly the notion of voluntarily abdicating my position at Sam's II Chitwood/Weymouth. The work exercises absolutely none of my intelligence faculties. The coddled, ignorant, obnoxious little brats I serve make me want to slash my throat, or theirs. Granted, I chose a forty-hour week, but it leaves me too physically exhausted to study properly most of the time.
That I rarely study or read distresses me of late, because the skills derived from such pursuits are the ones I would need and desire- not my current adeptness at making sandwiches and smoothies. The other students in my departments (though, of course, their lives are not handed to them, either) work less, study more, and are therefore farther ahead than I am. I am just competitive enough to be thoroughly frustrated by my failings in academic scholarship, unlike the frat-rats and sowhority girls who get plastered/sloshed every weekend and certain week nights, coming into Sam's for the sole purpose of further embittering me.
I might wax further on this subject, aber jetzt muß ich arbeiten.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:16 PM]
Am Wochenende Mache Ich Nichts
Friday, February 10, 2006
Several weeks ago, I offered to cover for Mandy a shift this Saturday from nine in the morning to four in the evening, without considering the small fact that my regular Saturday shift runs shortly thereafter, from six in the evening until two Sunday morning. Then, of course, I wake up to work from eight Sunday until four in the evening. I forgot entirely, until last night as I perused my planner, that I had planned to find someone else to cover all or part of this nightmare, for I have much to do that I need to take time this weekend to complete. Schade.
This morning I arose especially early to straighten the room and study about two hours each for a Greek quiz and the German test. I ate a satisfying bowl of strawberry oatmeal, which for some reason did not settle well, opting instead to shoot straight through my digestive tract. I later, while studiously poring over my German vocabulary list, compensated with my favorite disgusting energy drink. That kept me awake long enough to get through my classes, though by the time I had to take the German test at two, I felt about ready to crash. I probably did well enough for at least a "B", but grammatical errors must have been copious. Afterward, I hobbled straight dormroomward for a brief doze with Kermie whilst awaiting Jared's forsworn phone call.
We had planned to watch a film directed by Tommy Lee Jones, until Jared discovered, to our joint dismay, that his latest movie will not be played at theaters within fifty miles of Lubbock, which is about five hundred miles from anyplace. I tacked that onto my ever-growing list of reasons for despising this town. We nevertheless had a decent enough time eating again at McAlister's Deli, though Jared did not venture into the bathroom.
Lately I have been internally navigating employment options, all prospects of which are daunting for various reasons. I could attain a library position rather easily, I would suspect, but my paycut would be significantly high. I think I might wait until the end of the semester, then apply for a summer stint, which would supplement working for the housing and residence life department again.
I also vacillitate between whether I ought to keep the contract to live in the on-campus apartments (a year-long lease) or if staying in my current room might not be the better selection. I lean toward the apartment, since I would have my own bathroom, despite living with two other girls. As I am only ever in my room to sleep, anyhow, other people occupying the same environment might not irritate me as much as having a roommate sleeping five feet away did freshman year.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:47 PM]
That I Might Rest
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
I spent about two and-a-half hours this morning calmly studying Greek. This process involves reading the chapter, copying the vocabulary, and copying the exercise sentences (handwriting practice). I neglected to bring blank flashcards with me to the food court (I work best in a food environment, or on the toilet), but I may make some later.
Having completed Kosmos, finally, this morning I picked up Tacitus' The Annals of Imperial Rome, but have only gotten through the author's foreward as of this point. After updating the weblog and checking my bank statements, I shall sally forth to read for forty-five minutes before Greek class. Then I must study German for an hour before that class commences at two in the p.m. Viel Spaß.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:51 AM]
Mein Herz Sagte Mir Nichts
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
I finished reading "Wanderer, kommst du nach Spa...", for which I need now to look up certain key words, but the gist of which I understand. The ending proceeds thus:
...ich blickte an mir herab, und nun sah ich es: sie hatten mich ausgewickelt, und ich hatte keine Arme mehr, auch kein rechtes Bein mehr, und ich fiel ganz plötzlich nach hinten, weil ich mich nicht aufstützen konnte; ich schrie...I am now eager to read other literary works of Heinrich Böll, who apparently wrote prolificly. Ich habe diese Kurzgeschichte gern.
During class, die Lehrerin delved into background for certain aspects of the story, namely references to the former German colony of Togo and Friedrich der Größe. Then she had printed two copies of an article (one for herself and one for moi) about a Greek inscription dedicated to the remembrance of the battle of Thermopylae, this for the purpose of demonstrating turn-of-the-(past)century attitudes toward classical ideology. When she approached the part with the actual Greek inscription, she had me read it. Wie suß, ja oder? I stumbled, though, because it was written entirely in capitels, but the passages we practice with in class are written mostly in lowercase, with certain modern punctuation markings inserted for clarification.
Am Freitag mache ich eine Prüfung für die andere deutsche Kurs. Es hat viele Wörter, daß ich errinere an mußen. Ich tippen und drucken jetzt diese Wörter. Viel Spaß.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:29 PM]
Eigentlich Ist Es Mir Egal
Monday, February 06, 2006
Yesterday afternoon I began the earnest study of Manfred Korfmann, who led excavations at Troy from 1988 until his death of lung cancer last August. He being German, most of my searches result in sites auf Deutsch, which intimidates me little until I scan through them and recollect that I do not speak German.
News sites, of course, are relatively simple, with headlines such as, "Manfred Korfmann ist tot." Apparently, German newswriters are not usually any more ambitious with stylistics than Americans. I recognize action in narrative texts a little easier, the Germans using a separate past tense for formal writing than that with they speak in conversation. As noted previously, however, I need to continue reading anything and everything in order to expand my vocabulary.
The official Troia Projeckt site contains links to discourses about Korfmann's work at Troy, especially the reactions to his stance that his research refutes the position of those who disbelieve Schliemann's Troy as that which inspired the Homeric (and related) epics. The gist, to my current understanding, is that despite most, if not all, evidence being circumstantial, his evidence is, still, evidence, whereas critics merely use the argument that his evidence is circumstantial, but usually present nothing to contradict it. However, the English version (the two main teams come from the University of Tübingen and the University of Cincinnati) notes that the articles are too copious to have been translated from their original German, which further complicates my life.
The bibliography and an outline being due Thursday, I made a cursory online catalogue search of the library's holdings of Troy-related or Korfmann-related books, which I diligently copied and promptly arose to seek out. However, upon perusing the shelves, I found them devoid of many books I might need, including the two authored by Korfmann. I had, of course, previously ascertained none of my selections had been checked out. They simply either do not exist or have been relocated, an enquiry into which I might make when I return to the library this afternoon after German Conversation.
Not desiring to leave the stacks containing thousands of tomes of literature empty-handed, I sticky-fingered four books, one of Schliemann's epic narratives being the thickest. The other three are of subjects relating to classical scholarship, written by Germans, which I took more for practice at reading German than to glean any information for this massive project, though that might arise incidentally.
Last night after a brief doze (I literally did rest my eyes, drooling on my pillow for about twenty minutes) I read about fifty pages of Schliemann, which (for reasons upon which I intend later to expound) was hilarious. Suffice it at present to note that when Schliemann destroyed Roman or Hellinistic ruins in order to dig further toward "the real Troy", he never did thus accidentally. He was always "forced" or "obliged", by what or whom he leaves unmentioned.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:20 AM]
That Is The Field
Last night, against normal inclinations, I watched Superbowl XL, but in the company of other people who do not watch football on a regular basis, either, which meant I devoted more time to either eating or laughing at things than watching the actual game. We ate chips and queso with either soda pops or Koolaid- perfectly kosher, with no beer. Daniel's fiancee made fresh Rice Krispy Treats, which were muy bueno.
I am almost through reading the essays in Kosmos. I had last week set it aside, with the commencement of school, school, school again, but this morning I selected it as the literature to accompany my bicycle machine ride. I had ridden Dieter previously, and afterward I dutifully attended weight training class, wherein I discovered this thingy, the "back press", which I found most entertaining. As I plummeted backward through my hips, I thought to myself, Wheeee... ow. Wheeee... ow. Viel Spaß.
I had missed the latest weight training class (Wednesday) on account of my aversion to the idea of emerging from my tent bed on about four hours of sleep, so the instructor explained I have a workout schedule to write and a body composition test due this coming Wednesday. I suspect the results of the body composition test would be something to the extent that I have moderate body fat, and might be healthier if I ate less fatty foods at work. If I stopped bing(e?)ing right before shifts, I would probably lose "hella weight".
I also need to expand my exercise regimen, which currently consists of riding Dieter and Javier (Amy suggested the latter as the affectionate name for my most-favored bike machine). The two have kept me fluctuating around 156, but I usually drink back what I sweat out (I drink fountain water prior to and after exercising, but usually buy a Powerade with or without something to nibble on afterward). I also, of course, need to work out the rest of my flabby body, which means making friends with the equipment in the weight rooms. I like the back press, the rower, the leg curl, and the toe press. I am less animous toward the machine thingy that works the thighs, in addition to anything that requires upper-arm movement. I shall designate polemic appellations for the latter and more upbeat ones for the former tomorrow, when I return to the Rec after classes to write out the workout schedule and take the body composition test.
I did accomplish half the items on my "weekend to-do list", with the major exception of meeting with Megan, this design having been subordinated to spending quality time with Jenni, Daniel, their respective romantic attachments, and Cecilia (who was one of my student supervisors until she graduated last May). I went to the bank Saturday around three, to find it had closed at noon, which is ridiculous.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:20 AM]
Identify A Foundation To Approach
Saturday, February 04, 2006
I did my laundry, finished Greek homework, and attended the work meeting. Last night I received April's Christmas package, which contained, among other things, a box of cereal, some ravioli, and three microwaveable bowls of soup. She also sent a book about Roman life, of which I had heard but not yet perused.
Oddly, I find myself this year invited to two Superbowl parties- one with Rebekah and the other hosted by Daniel, a manager (newly this semester) of some level between my shift supervisors and Ali, the main manager guy. I opted to accept hospitality with Daniel, since Jenni offered to take me, and there will be little to no boozing. If I went to Rebekah's fete, I would only sit around whilst everyone else had fun. Plus, I never do anything with Jenni, and Daniel is pleasant enough and seems to think highly of me (he's only known me two or three weeks, though; it will pass).
Last night I took Kimmy (she drove) to the bi-weekly Stammtisch, though we did not remain long and spoke no German. Afterward we picked up her loverboy, named "Ramzi", from the airport. He appeared more reserved than she, but then, he was probably tired from the flight as well. Seine Namen errinert mir an "Rambo", hee-hee.
One of the basketball players was talking to some girl in line as they checked out this evening. The girl was saying something about how she couldn't afford this or that, and the guy responded with, "Oh- well, don't you have academic scholarships?" His ride through college being free, he apparently assumes everyone else receives funding somehow, too. The girl didn't say anything, she just gave an embarassed shrug.
No program at Tech receives the kind of support the football and basketball teams do. Tech concerns itself only with recruiting as many people as it can and slolloming them through meager academic programs in exactly four years (five for architecture majors). The system thoroughly nauseates me. I only remain because I committed myself to the programs here; I am tired of moving around; and I spend less of the money I do not have, there being nothing to spend it on. The atmosphere and the student attitudes do not correspond at all with what I had envisioned my college experience to be. The lady who taught my swimming class last semester told me I would be much better suited for an east coast school, and I would agree.
I stay because I would be just as miserable anywhere else at this point, since I must work as much as is humanly possible around school hours. Having discovered that I am not at all acclimated to "work" as such, I merely want to graduate, fly into a fellowship-funded graduate program, and hope then that I might actually learn something, and read my little books and build my little models of the Parthenon or the Pantheon, and write my little essays in little scholarly publications. That's all I want- with a multi-million dollar house to shuffle around in.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:33 AM]
Ich Habe Meine Griechische Hausaufgaben Gemacht
Thursday, February 02, 2006
I regret I offered to cover a shift this afternoon for a girl (Mandy). I could be reading, but instead, I am serving people sandwiches. A blonde came to the counter, leaned on the glass, and continued talking on her cell phone. I ignored her, which made me feel like a big man.
Over the weekend I must do many, many odd things.
send tax stuff to April
watch Megan sew arm-warmers
attend a mandatory work meeting
finish the next Greek assignment
read the next German story
read chapters for the other German class
copy Megan's notes
begin researching Manfred Korfmann
deposit checks at the bank
pay some bills
cancel some subscriptions
do laundry
finish a book
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:26 PM]
The Slashes Go The Other Way, Charlie Brown
This morning I accidentally missed Trojan class to finish einer Referat für die Deutschkurs. Es war über Heinrich Böll, der schriebte nachdem Zweiten Krieg. Ich fand ihm interessant. Seine Kurzgeschichte, daß wir jetzt lesen, ist ein Bißchen kompliziert zu verstehen. Die heißt, "Wanderer, kommst du nach Spa".
Jetzt muß ich meine andere Deutschkurs Hausaufgaben machen, weil es am morgen fällig ist.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:26 PM]
The Blossom Embraces The Bee
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
I finished typing the vocabulary list for my German professor. It essentially consists of the words I found in my dictionary; anything unlisted, I simply never looked up, online or elsewhere. But she reviewed unknown words during class meetings, so no one would miss out on much if I neglected a word here and there (hin und her).
Today Dr. Holland scheduled the first Greek quiz (over three chapters), which last night had me somewhat anxious, but upon an hour-long review this morning, I feel much better. Young Mr. Underwood paced the class last semester ever much too quickly, but Dr. Holland is less stringent. Ausgezeichnet.
I look forward to watching "Satyricon" tonight. I invited lots of my little Facebook friends, ones I haven't seen all semester, and several already replied that they would, indeed, be interested in watching a free movie, even without food provided. I'm glad some of my real friends are coming, because most of the undergraduates in the Classics department are either tightwads or überdorks.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:57 AM]