Monday, September 24, 2007
I have not studied particularly hard for the GRE I am to take tomorrow. I should prove more than competent on the verbal sections, but I might display an amazing lack of skill with regard to the math section, for I cannot count without my fingers. Granted, my fingers will be with me, presumably, when I take the exam, but I've only got eight (excluding three thumbs).
In prior instances of the above type (whereinwhich I have had a maddening lack of preparation), I have found it best just to crawl under the bedcovers earlier than usual. Cramming will only make me more anxious; I would rather be able to reason my way through things.
My apathy toward life this week makes me a little apprehensive. I am taking the GRE, writing two papers (one in German, which I do not speak, and another in English, which I do not speak particularly well, being a Texan; I must furthermore overcome the complication of the paper's subject: Latin-language elegy), taking a Latin exam, and beginning a new, sure-to-be-unexciting job. My lack of concern or motivation is a little frightening.
I've concluded that I very much need to leave Lubbock.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:41 PM]
Funny Name, Serious Sandwich
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
After I take the GRE on the twenty-fifth of this month, I shall begin the course of my employment with the Scholtzky's across the street from campus. The manager decided to hire me because I shook his hand and stated my name when I introduced myself to him. Apparently, applicants tend to prove deficient in such basic communicative detail.
Immediately after completing the GRE, I must begin applying to graduate schools. As of yet, I have not developed a particularly systematic approach. I think that at most places, I would just apply for the MA program. At first, I thought I might need to pursue a year of post-baccalaureate study, but most people to whom I have mentioned this idea assure me I have no reason not to apply directly to MA and PhD programs.
I shouldn't waste my time with Harvard (not that I might want to), but I need to overcome the notion that I am not a competitive applicant. By the time I graduate in May, I will have had four years of Latin, three of Greek, and four of German, all of which looks fabulous on paper. To substantiate my levels of language preparation, I have writing samples I could develop further from all three languages, plus two more from the cultural/archaeological courses I took with Dr. Reed.
I do not foresee problems with professorial recommendations: everyone I've ever had has expressed some positive opinion of my work, and every one of them, by varying degrees, is reputable in his or her field. All of them, whether they might have any personal reservations, have never been anything but helpful and encouraging.
But now I must cut short the aligning of my thoughts, for I am to arise early tomorrow morning to await the arrival of the gentleman who will show me how to access the Internet from The Lauree Lair.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:04 PM]
A Partridge In A Pear Tree
Friday, September 14, 2007
The E. T. A. Hoffman novella we are reading in German class mentioned a partridge dish. Someone asked what a partridge was, to which I responded, "Ein Partridge ist ja ein kleiner Junge, der rote Haare hat..." Der Grair Bär expressed surprise that I would know "The Partridge Family", but cable television makes anything possible. I haven't seen the show in years, and I only watched it during the summers as a kid, when I went to visit my grandparents. They had cable. We did not. I then binged on the cable network shows.
I am reading The Bacchae (auf Griechisch) independently with Avril. It counts as a three-hour class, but we only meet for an hour once a week; consequently, we progress through a smaller volume of lines than I am used to. While I would like to be tested on less material, I would nevertheless like to complete the entire play by the end of the semester. Oh, the agony...
My level in Greek lies below my Latin and German, especially in my recognition of case uses and participles. I made flashcards many moons ago, but they seem to have wandered off. I do expect to improve tremendously this semester, in spite of my many shortcomings in translating. Dr. Lavigne explains everything (sometimes a little too) thoroughly, and he forces me to work problems out for myself. That is what I need.
He can be snide, though. The session before last, I didn't recognize a certain verb and couldn't derive it from context or piecing together its components.
"You can't wear black anymore," says Lavigne.
"Why?" says Lauree.
"κτανειν means 'to kill'."
Yesterday he laughed because I translated another verb as "engendered" rather than something more like "gave birth to". I only did that to differentiate it from the other verbs related to giving birth I had seen previously. Using yet another English word signals that the Greek uses a different word. My translation was not incorrect, precisely, just odd.
Why is everybody always picking on me?
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:41 PM]
First Week Of School Report
Sunday, September 02, 2007
I do not need a job, so much as I need money. Acquiring money without a job would be much better than wasting my time providing "quality customer service" somewhere in order to earn enough to eat and pay bills.
A skill for which I am lacking: The ability to steal and ransom diamonds or the daughters of Presidents. Either would provide wealth and some sort of adventure.
Now I must venture into a textbook about communication practices in the wacky world of business.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:10 PM]