Thursday, March 08, 2007
Monday as we walked back to the foreign language building from the arena where University Day was held, Dr. Lavigne brought up the subject of my graduate study. He opines I ought to remain in the armpit of America for yet another two tortuous years for the M.A., as does Dr. Larmour, but I would almost rather take a year or two off, if no real graduate program accepts me, than stick around a place where I loathe everything.
Dr. Lavigne granted that the B.A. program counts for nothing, but I suspect, for me, the M.A. program would do little better. Dr. Lavigne and Dr. Larmour simply do not specialize in the areas I would like to study most over the next few years. Dr. Holland, as Adrian-Mikki once described him, has forgotten more than I could ever hope to learn, but he also plans to retire very soon. I would love to read Cicero, who is an author Dr. Holland originally had us read in my first senior-level Latin class, but the other students wanted to read easier things. A philosophy graduate student friend of mine recently asked me, "Why Cicero?"
Because he was a dick, both in personality and writing style. I find that hilarious and oddly endearing. His passages might be tedious, but the end result would be worth the time I would spend in utter confusion.
The great thing about studying in Lubbock, Texas, is that there are no distractions. This is concurrently the bad thing about studying in Lubbock, Texas. I spend hours at the coffee shop, but I do not care for coffee. I only go there because I get twitchy sitting alone at the Lair. Bars and low-class clubs consist of the only alternative entertainment. I cannot afford to go to the movies often and, as hardly anything of interest comes out, anyway, I have little desire to do so.
On especially horrid days, wind gusts reach thirty-five or forty miles an hour, blowing dirt into any exposed cranny of my body, knocking me off my bike, ripping the hat off my head, etc. I hate that.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:29 PM]