Tuesday, May 29, 2007
I believe I finally solved the coding problem that prevented my blogspot from appearing. I had no time during the spring semester to check or correct the page, but office shifts provide ample opportunity for editing and general computer-dicking-arounding. In between checking bank accounts, my school e-mail, and Facebook, I actually had to complete some work last night, for once, checking a group of high school students into the dormitory. They matriculate for summer school classes in order to learn about the "college experience". I no longer care for the college experience, at least not as it exists at Tech. Most of the students here don't have shit for brains.
However, there are still plenty of decent, intelligent people walking around. For instance, as I stood in front of the Foreign Language building this afternoon, awaiting a ride, I noticed two ladies in the parking lot talking to each other in Spanish. One drove away in her car, and the other approached the building. She was wearing a fanny pack, black leggings that came down to mid-calf, sunglasses, and a white Tech t-shirt. I presumed she was a professor who had just finished jogging or working out and was coming by her office to pick up or drop something off. She stopped and greeted me before she went in- she asked if I had liked my classes the first day, I rattled off the three languages I am trying to learn, she told me good luck, and as she opened the door, she said something to the extent of, 'Well, I'm the custodian for this building, so keep up with your schooling, or you'll wind up like me- dusting, and mopping the floors!' She's more of a human being than the sassy, gum-chewing little brats who wear sweat pants with "PINK" splayed across the ass, throw the school's fifth-grade reading-level newspaper on the floor, and walk by her as though she doesn't exist.
I hate people, but this applies to everyone, indiscriminately. I place everyone I meet on a Scale of Tolerance, on which they advance, remain in some state of homostasis, or fall back, according to the several interactions we may have. Facebook statistics to the contrary (I apparently am "friends" with one hundred eighty-four people at Tech alone), I consider all people on the planet to be my enemies- my best friends, of course, being the greatest enemies of all. I keep them close in order that I may the more effectively destroy them.
I brought Kermit the Frog to the office to keep me company during my shift this evening. As one of my fellow employees picked him up, I introduced Kermie as the frog I sleep with every night. Suddenly Kermie was dropped.
I have been told I have issues.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:45 PM]
Laß dich, Geliebte, nicht reun, daß du mir so schnell dich ergeben!
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Der Grair Bär gave my term paper (finally entitled, "Gelegenheit in Goethe's Römische Elegien") an "A+". Now I may sleep. On the first two pages he made a few editing marks, which had me apprehensive about the next nineteen pages to follow, but for the most part, I did fine.
He had my previous drafts in front of him, to which he apparently conferred to be certain I had revised problematic sections. A few days before, Adrian had spent several hours reading through the paper to make comments and suggestions, many of which helped immensely, for Der Grair Bär specifically noted, 'much improved', 'better', etc. at those places where I provided additional elaboration after Adrian's editing.
I had a solid conclusion that apparently hit directly upon the point Dr. Grair wanted me to make- namely, that the Römische Elegien are a romantic, rather than a classical, work. Despite being inspired by the "classical" genre of elegy, I felt that Goethe merely used elegy as the medium for the expression of romantic themes. His main character (or interlocutor) strives for different goals than those of the three main Augustan poets (Ovid, Catullus, and Propertius) Goethe admired. The political and cultural climate in which he wrote, it hardly has to be stated, affected his writing in a different manner.
More importantly, Dr. Grair took the time to type three pages of commentary on my writing. Two paragraphs are praise, two and-a-half pages are suggestions for improvement, if I were to publish this as a scholarly paper. I am not precise, clear, or consistent, which is exactly what scholarly papers are supposed to be. I prefer to allude, to make nebulous statements, to provide minimal explanation, and above all, to avoid road-mapping. But a scholar wants to know, before he's read something, whether or not he can cite it in his own term paper/dissertation/article. Screw that. If I put in so much effort to write something, I consider my reader an unhappy captive of my will. He must read every word (perhaps whole pages two or three times over) in order to understand any part of my argument, and then the entire composition.
Enough. Time to sleep.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:04 PM]
Healthy Competition
Monday, May 14, 2007
Yesterday I attended the wedding of Mr. Steve Burham and Ms. Amanda Morris, which was lovely and free from anxiety (at least for the guests). I never see enough of them, and they have both come to mean quite a bit to me. I was even pleased to dress like a girl for them.
Unfortunately, I was not around when Amanda tossed the bouquet. I need a man, because I suddenly have a craving for peanut butter and jelly. But I cannot open a jelly jar with my own two hands. I am aware that various companies currently market squeeze tubes of jelly, but they cannot possibly liken themselves to the jars with cartoon characters my parents bought when I was a wee Lauree. We reused the jars as drink glasses, since we were too po' to keep buying more child-sized glass sets every time we broke a glass. To my understanding, we were not alone in this practice, as I recall having seen some in the kitchen cabinet when I stayed with The Father and the new Wicked Stepfamily.
Yesterday I also completed a twenty-one page term paper for den Grair Bär. In revising it last night, I found I had over-used all my words for "find". I sat, hands poised over the keyboard, licking my teeth as I ran through all the other verbs I had used already, until I settled with "come upon". The sentence now reads:
Nature (jene buschige Myrte) provides the places where the wanderer and his beloved may come upon each other and themselves.Adrian told me I should leave it as is, because it's ballsy. This is also precisely the reason for leaving it out. But then, Der Grair Bär isn't bipolar (like a couple of other professors I've had) when it comes to grading; hopefully, he'll just giggle and write a big red exclamation point out to the side. I have figured out that writing an exclamation point to the side of the text as he proofs it is Der Grair Bär's code for indicating he finds the idea provocative.
So much now to do. So little Lauree. I do hope to come upon myself this summer.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:43 PM]
Where Are The Creme-Coloured Ponies?
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Yesterday my older sister informed me that she is preggers. She and The Love Matt broke up for a year, but reconciled (pretty heavily, apparently- heh-heh). She has yet to inform The Father, who she suspects may not take well to the news. I told her it really is not any of his business. He doesn't support her in any way, so if the fact that Ashlea Gayle Keith and Mr. Matthew Mims are not married bothers him (or Terri, rather), he can cram it with walnuts. Ashlea and Matt are by no means flawless, but they are perfectly capable of being loving, supportive parents. Our father, unfortunately, is neither, even being not-quite-fifty by now and having had five kids of his own. He does change diapers with high-level adroitness.
Otherwise, I am genuinely excited for them. I am ready to spoil my very first niece-or-nephew. I told Ashlea to call me, if she needs help with names. I suggested "Zeppo" for a boy.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:40 AM]