Sunday, July 30, 2006
I composed an ambitious plan of attack for studying Latin and Greek before school begins the twenty-eighth of August. Zwischen werde ich deutsche Grammatik überblicken.
Ich liebe die Deutschen.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:23 PM]
You Of Men The Most Vile
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Today before working at the office this evening, I managed to speak directly to only about four people (excluding guests who came to the office).
First, Davis arrived at ten this morning via bicycle to relieve me from office duty. We chatted very briefly (one of the international graduate students came by for change to do her laundry) and I gratefully left to a long, intense workout of riding Dieter for twenty-five minutes, playing in the weight room for about forty minutes, riding Javier for a little over twenty minutes, and swimming fifteen laps with a kickboard.
Upon returning to the dorm, I spooked Bianca at the bathroom in order to acquire access to her room (for I had stored a turkey sandwich and a burger patty in her refrigerator the evening previous). Later, returning to the office for a broom and dust pan (I shed like a cat), I gifted Bianca with two lollipops. I left her to watch Buffy whilst I continued reading one of the books concerning Greek tragedy I checked out from the library yesterday.
Predicting I would require an unhealthy amount of caffeine in order to remain awake for six hours of sitting in the office beginning at seven, I journeyed across the parking lot to the newly-built dorm "suites", where the Sam's Place at which Serg (a student supervisor I used to work with, before he transferred) whiles away his precious daytime hours. He stood at the counter, before several slabs of a meat unrecognized by me. Upon inquiry he informed me this meat was "heart", which I infer must have been human, as that particular organ from any other animal would be too great an expenditure for Sam.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:24 PM]
It's Time To Dress-Up Right
Friday, July 28, 2006
This morning, after completing the multiple-choice physical anthropology exam (fifty questions bubbled in within twenty minutes), I sat at a library computer noting cross-references from the article I read two days ago about a couple of Pindar's odes. I received a much-unwanted phone call from my supervisor, who needed a last-minute cover for a shift from two to four this afternoon. I had intended to work out during that time, but I agreed, for I was the only person available.
In a slight revision to plans for the afternoon, I immediately afterward checked out a few books on the interpretation of Greek tragedy (with a detour to the bathroom in response to some unexpected, and much-unwanted, bowel movements). These I then lugged rather awkwardly one-handed (my right preoccupied with my medium-sized purse, stuffed with anthropology notes, four thick article print-outs, a Greek textbook, and a twenty-ounce bottle of Coca-Cola Zero) to my usual perch on one of the Flinstone benches in the foreign languages building. I sat cross-legged and serene, in my black JNCOs, black imitation Doc Martens, and a black baseball-style t-shirt, to which image Dr. McClain exclaimed ere she walked by, "Why, you look just like a Buddhist monk!" This I find the more amusing in light of April's recent comment that I am like a cockroach. Perhaps that's what I shall return as.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:31 PM]
If It's Brown, Drink It Down
Thursday, July 27, 2006
This week reading slowed, though yesterday I did read through an entire article about two of Pindar's Nemean odes. I wrote several cross-references that seemed interesting (most regarded the psychoanalysis of ancient texts or the gender anxiety of the Greeks).
I enjoy sitting through the anthropology lectures and labs, but I resent studying for the exams. The lab quizzes are more thorough about certain things than the lecture exams (which are multiple-choice) and require that I, myself, actually recall the material I am passively absorbing during class, rather than find the correct answer via elimination of choices I know to be incorrect. I am more suited to discovering what is "wrong" with something than what is "right" about it.
Two hundred eighty-four cheerleaders between the ages of twelve and seventeen pounded back-and-forth down every floor above my head (I live on the first) last night as I attempted to read the Pindar article. As I possess the authority to do so, I traipsed upstairs to exact from the coaches some assurance that they would muzzle and lasso their charges. I could expect and contend with an occasional thump, but these little girls chased each other for well over two hours, which irritated not only me but also had to ennervate the other guests. Happily, the coaches were perfectly sympathetic, and the little brat children did quiet down afterward.
Ich haße die Kinder.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:43 AM]
You Were Born To Be A Wonka-er
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
A customer (college student) who comes into Sam's often during the school year for energy drinks saw me at the store the other day (reaching for a cup of ravioli) and commented, "Hey- you're skinny!" It made me warm and fuzzy inside. Swimming five days a week equals doubleplusgood for the Lauree Waistline.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:41 AM]
Sidewalk Crouches At Her Feet
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Kathrin and I had pledged ourselves to rock-climb this afternoon at four, but after waiting twenty-three minutes past, I slunk out of the building to walk around campus instead. My face feels crispy, which arouses the suspicion it may be burnt. Schade.
Jim (the person from whom I am renting the apartment) insists on helping me find a queen-size mattress (to fit the base the previous resident left) and gently ordered me to compose a list of other things I "need" for him to scavenge. Hilariously, the things I need to spend money on at the moment- undergarments and tampons- are of an entirely different nature. I could live without sleeping on a mattress; Jim also wants to help me find cooking pots and utensils, but I still probably won't cook often enough to have need of them. Even coming free, most of this stuff would only clutter the room, unutilized, when someone else could be using it. Sharada donated a television that I never watch and have decided to give away before I move.
I merely want to situate my worldly belongings and not spend any more money than I have to this semester.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:33 PM]
Modesty Does Not Become You
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Having secured an apartment to live in for at least the fall semester lessens that constant stress I am under considerably. I already own most of what I would need for independent living, so I should be able to concentrate on tuition and paying credit card bills. I love the bills. They make me feel like a grown-up.
How many classes I take depends on whether I receive any amount of financial aid, the decision for which I have not been notified due to the incompleteness of the application. I await a required recommendation letter from one of my aunts. She is very busy, but she has had the form for over a month now. I may have to look for someone else, if she doesn't send it after this weekend.
Other than the monotony of waiting around for things to happen to me, this summer I have enjoyed being able to preoccupy my time with the reading of books. I decided that if I must drop out of school this fall, or if I must knock the hours down to three, I would have that much more time to read, or to study Latin and Greek uninterrupted with class assignments and tests. Since I might not receive any aid, I reconcile my disappointment with the above consolation. Besides which, having only one class would open whole days during which I might find a position of employment somewhere that would not require me to sell fried food to coddled, bratty university freshmen.
I wonder when I will begin doing things.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:50 PM]
Eyes Without A Flesh For Fantasy
Friday, July 21, 2006
Sometime this afternoon or this weekend I shall visit the apartment to assess space and begin a move-in strategy. Fortunately, I should not have to purchase a great many things- perhaps a few pots and pans, a bathroom rug, a broom, devices (nails, ticky-tack) with which to hang things, et cetera. I might need a little red wagon, if I have to walk down the street to do laundry.
I did neglect to account for the fact that I now have a yard, which will require minimal upkeep (the neighborhood is relatively "safe", but admittedly not well-preserved). This yard also provides un-heretofore thought-of storage possibilities (confer: content of parantheses, previous sentence). It strikes me as just the sort of holding pen for a vicious, neglected animal, such as a pit bull or a tiger. I would prefer a black leopard or a howler monkey, but I may have to save nickels and dimes for a few more months before I consider such an investment.
I swam regularly the past several weeks, minus Jenni, and have concluded that I almost enjoy swimming. If I did not have to wear body-clinging attire or get wet, I would love swimming. Currently, I kickboard between fifteen and twenty laps. That is all. My arms do nothing. I do not put my head under the water, unless I must duck under the ropes to exit the pool. I more than suspect that I provide much amusement for the lifeguards, who are all very nice (a little too nice). The gradual but noticeable slimming of my waist impels me forward.
Ich muß Griechisch, Latein, und Deutsch studieren. Oi weh.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:35 AM]
Cracked Squamosal Suture
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I over-studied for the lab quiz over parts of the human skeleton and the bones of the skull. Ich hatte keine Ahnung, what one of the bumps on the thoracic vertebra sample was called, but I answered everything else confidently. Afterward the lab focused on aspects of primate bone structure characteristics. If I were to have a pet, I would want a Galago. It has a "cute" skeleton, anyhow.
Another student mentioned hearing of a place in Austin that pays upwards of six hundred dollars to remove people's wisdom teeth in order to test anesthetics. I briefly considered looking into bus tickets, until the TA said, 'Of course, it sucks if you get the placebo.'
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:10 PM]
Du, Ferkel, Hast Keine Mut
Monday, July 17, 2006
Heute am Morgen und nachmittag hab' ich weiter Pu der Bär gelesen. Pu ist einer Bär, der keinen Verstand hat. Aber Christoph Robin liebt ihm sehr viel.
Ich möchte jetzt Honig, aber ich es nicht finden kann. Schade. Eines Leben ohne Honig ist keines Leben zu haben.
Last week Dr. Grair saw me reading the book about Nietzschean poetry. This afternoon when he came over, ich habe gesagt, 'Das ist etwas schwerer als das Nietzsche-Buch' as I held Pu der Bär out. The expression on his face as he read the title is precisely the sort of thing I live for.
I did have all intents of writing a post more profound and insightful, but I must memorize all the bones and sutures of the human skull for a lab exam tomorrow. Of course, this weekend I had plenty of time to read through the notes and stare at the pictures and diagrams until my eyes bled, but naturally, I never bothered to glance at a single page. I operate better under the influence of adrenaline.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:48 PM]
Lange Wörter Verwirren Mich
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Heute nachmittag hab' ich zur [nach... oder?] Bibliothek ein dickes, gelbes Buch entdeckten: Pu der Bär. Freunden Pus sind Känga, Klein-Ruh, I-Aah, Tiger, Ferkel (das ein Schwein ist), Kaninchen, Eule, und natürlich auch Christoph Robin. Ich liebe Winnie-der-Pu. Christoph Robin nennt Pu "dummer alter Bär". Armer Pu. Dieses Buch ist jetzt meines Lieblingsbuch.
At eleven-thirty this morning I awoke Bianca to eat lunch with me, which she apparently found torturous, for a) the food selection was scanty and b) she had been prematurely aroused, having worked until four this morning. Seven hours would have been more sleep than I might have gotten, and if I would be miserable in any situation, anyone else ought to be. Bianca hardly deserves peace.
Rebekah I do not begrudge happiness; she worked all year long to visit Norway this summer. Nevertheless, my selfish nature demands her return. I already designated (without Rebekah's knowledge or assent) that she replace Jenni as my swimming buddy. Pu ißt gern Honig. Ich auch.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:27 PM]
Manhood Shamed
I called a gentleman yesterday about his advertisement for an efficiency apartment a few blocks from campus. I walked over and, while it is definitely dumpy, the place would be livable for a Lauree. It has "Lauree Lair" potential, replete with weedy, overgrown yard.
The room is an attachment on a relatively old house- very plain (white) paint, but recently re-painted. The girl, who had to leave abruptly (both her parents had heart attacks within a month), left a nice, round wood table and chairs, plus the bottom to either a queen or a full-size mattress. Jim (the landlord) mentioned he would help me find a top mattress, and that he still had sheets from when he worked for a hotel, if I might be interested (I immediately envisioned stains, both visible and hidden, but we shall see).
The old sink has a few rust spots, which appear to be undergoing a covering-up process. On either side are a stove and a half-size refrigerator (with a small freezer portion). I saw no washer or dryer units and neglected to inquire about where to do laundry, but presumably a coin-op is located nearby. I might need to invest in a rusty Radio Flyer.
The bathroom and closet are narrow, but long. The bathroom has no tub, only a shower unit, about which Jim expressed initially some anxiety, but I assured him I only take showers, anyhow. Sitting in my own filth has never suited me. The girl left a sizable number of clothes hangers, which I consider an added bonus. All along one wall are closed cabinets reaching to the ceiling for further storage. I therefore should not need to purchase shelving, but I shall examine the upper-level doors for whether they might be safely removed (my books and suchlike could then be on display).
The place is old, but not dingy. The tile floor is, I expressed, "gorgeous"; Jim apparently had it replaced recently. This floor impressed me enough that I agreed to a deposit, with further arrangements to be made over the next several days/weeks. I assured Jim I would cover through at least December with funds from my savings account, which suited him well enough.
I hint not at Jim's personality, because that would consume the entirety of another post, and possibly then some.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:25 AM]
Jelly Babies
Monday, July 10, 2006
I just learned Tim found a job teaching high school Latin near Philadelphia, and that Mathew teaches at another suburb in the area. Neither of them have actual teaching certification, so the prospects of finding a position somewhere were initially dim. I am relieved for them, and glad as well that they are near each other. I told Tim I would consider dropping out of school to move to Philadelphia, for I have been told I would be suited to east coast living.
I am not suited to armpit-of-America (Lubbock) living.I only took summer classes because I had received a grant to cover each semester, but last week I received an e-mail stating I had unpaid tuition (neither grant went through) and a hold on my transcript. This afternoon I tip-toed trepidatiously into the financial aid mega-facility, to be informed the grants would, indeed, go through sometime this afternoon: the computer had me logged for six hours (the amount the grants were for) each semester, but I had only registered for four. After the nice secretary lady alters my hours this afternoon, all should be well. Ausgezeichnet.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:26 AM]
Illusions About Which One Has Forgotten
Sunday, July 09, 2006
It made my early evening to read about Nietzsche's criticism of Poe (specifically, "The Raven") as too depressing and as a willing victim to poetic formality. Reading this book about Nietzschean poetry has also induced me to add, "Es gibt kein Ziel!" to my stockpile of answers for the ever-constant hounding: "Classics and German... so... what are you going to do with that?" Ich weiß nicht. Vielleicht nichts. Perhaps I'll publish literature with regard to Nietzschean poetry... or the ungeheuerlich blister on the pad of my foot that erupted last night in so much pus and needling pain.
It made my early evening yesterday when Bianca called from the office with a crisis: one of the little girls in the volleyball camp had not been able to sleep the night previously, for written on the ceiling above her delicate little head, in glow-in-the-dark letters, glared the word, "FUCK". It occurred to my mind that, had I been a ten year-old at volleyball camp, I would have been the kid whispering, "Hey, Peggy Sue- come give me a boost so I can write 'FUCK' on the ceiling in glow-in-the-dark letters!" Es ist traurig, daß heute die Kinder phantasielos sind.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:02 PM]
Who's Afraid Of The Big Black Bat?
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Croix and I were eating pizza at the office, he at his laptop and I at my Nietzsche. Croix found these irresistible distractions:
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:46 PM]
They Brought Back Cinnamon Toast Crunch
Last night I finally deigned visit Martha and Bonnie (andere deutsche Studentinnen) at their apartment for a birthday celebration in honour of one of their other roommates, Melissa. I watched while everyone else played a JENGA drinking game. Initially I drank only tea, but finally I allowed Martha to fix my very first margarita.
Ich hab' es gern gehabt.
However, I limited myself only to the one, though that was enough for Traci to exclaim, ere she entered casa Bonnie/Martha: 'Lauree's drinking?!' I had not realized I had garnered any notoriety as the only person (besides Dr. Bonzo, der "Mormon" ist) in the German Department who does not drink. When one says and does the sorts of things I do when sober, one hardly needs to intoxicate oneself.
I neglected "Bahnwährter Thiel" in favor of another book I found in the same aisle: The Poetry of Friedrich Nietzsche. It begins with his juvenilia, die ich am liebsten finde. Heute nachmittag lese ich weiter.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:34 AM]
The Definitions Of "Pity" And "Terror"
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The paper Travis read for his comparative literature seminar last week discussed tragic catharsis from an Aristotle text, with the viewer of the tragic play suffering "pity" and "terror" (this is a very general, one-sentence summation). In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man the protagonist and another character discuss aesthetics first in terms of an examination of definitions of "pity" and "terror" (according to the main character's view). I am proud to understand the reference- I study the classics, I have realized, for no ultimate purpose other than to prove myself a smarty-pants.
Last night Bianca and I checked rooms to ascertain whether items had been stolen, needed replacement, et cetera. I scored about a dollar-thirty in change, approximately twenty wire hangers, and three disposable razors (which, as I explained to Bianca, translates to three whole months of shaving my legs for free). The graffiti of girls, I have discovered, is wholly dissatisfying- scribblings of "I love Bubba/Billy Joe/Javier (or: I love Bubba, Billy Joe, and Javier" and the Greek initials for sorority houses, for the most part. I did open one drawer upon a usual scrawling of "I love so-and-so", but dated "4/23/1985", the exact date of my birth. I hope the little slut wrote that as I slopped out.
The library had odd hours for the fourth of July weekend, but this morning I finally had time to drop off my overdue books so that I could check out the collection of short stories by Gerhart Hauptmann Jeremy tipped me onto. Unless a hurricane comes through, I aim to begin reading them tonight on the recumbent bike at the rec center. This week I finally knocked myself down to about the weight I was when I graduated high school. Ausgezeichnet. I probably lost between a half and one inch just from swimming more often.
Class (physical anthropology) begins tomorrow, but before then I have many errands to run and loose ends to tie. This morning I returned the entomology text, receiving a meagre seven dollars (half of which I spent on a banana mocha frappuccino at the campus Starbucks). Das anthropologisches Buch ist sehr teuer. Ich haße die Schule.
Grander projects for the afternoon and early evening include completing laundry (whilst listening to Björk, to whom I had never paid much attention until very recently), finishing the James Joyce novel, and studying Latin. Tomorrow I hope to find Kathrin after class so that we might rock climb, before I forget how to tie in.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:36 AM]
When The Moon Hits Your Eye
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Over the weekend I mourned the loss of Sharada and Jenni. I went to the pool, Jenni-less, and had to explain to the lifeguard that I would be checking out only one kickboard, for my friend had graduated and left Lubbock forever. Yesterday I swam the usual twenty laps all by my lonesome, but felt better for having gone regardless. One of the lifeguards tried to seduce me, but he failed to impress. His friend laughed.
I am on the final chapter of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the third having been the best: mostly a long soliloquoy by a priest.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:13 AM]