Sunday, March 30, 2008
Since elementary school, I thought I never wanted to do anything but write- and read- and write. In fifth grade, when we had an assignment to write to our favourite authors, I sent what must have been a rather lengthy letter to Stephen King. His secretary, Janice Eugley, sent something back to the effect that unfortunately Mr. King cannot answer individual letters and write novels at the same time; she did answer my questions and provided the additional information that Stephen is a Red Sox fan and assists coaching his son's baseball team. Ms. Eugley also kindly included an essay on writing Stephen King had authored a few years prior. I've read them since then countless times and am still as embittered about not receiving a personal letter from Mr. King as I was when I was ten. Of all the children on the planet sending him fan letters, he should have stopped that production wheel for me alone.
Since coming to college, I have written little of value.
Labels: baseball, elementary school, Janice Eugley, reading, Red Sox, Stephen King, writing
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:21 PM]
Bob Dylan Is Not A Crazy Old Man
Thursday, March 27, 2008
In an advising session with Dr. Lavigne this afternoon, he mentioned, after I decide which graduate school to attend, he would take me aside for a "send-off". I worry this means he's going to break a liquor bottle across my side. I would almost rather have a sex talk with my dad. Normally, the "send-off" occurs between Dr. Larmour and the graduate students who are leaving the University for a PhD program somewhere. Being yet an undergrad, I get Avril, but I might put in a request that Dr. Larmour be present.
The shifts I work at Fuddruckers only last between three and six hours, nights, which makes this the cakewalk job I had hoped it would be. A tire blowing out on my tank, however, complicates transportation from (I catch the bus to) Fuddruckers to The Lair, which is about four miles away. The walk takes forever, but I still arrive at The Lair with time enough to work for a little bit before bedtime.
Labels: advising, Bob Dylan, car, Fuddruckers, grad school, senility, The Lauree Lair, transportation, walking, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:43 PM]
Fond, But Not In Love
Friday, March 21, 2008
I began work at Fuddruckers. With a few exceptions, I am older than everyone else, including the manager who drove me home last night (for my tank is still kaputt). I intend to bus tables for the next several months to pay off a credit card or two.
For the next two weeks, I am going to sit by my mailbox, awaiting financial aid decisions from three of the Classics programs that have accepted me. I have my books (ever so many books), and the weather has begun to warm.
I realize, of course, that my plans may be thrown awry from the small fact that I have not attended so many algebra classes this semester... but it should be offered again via correspondence over the summer. The end still is near.
For all the reading I do, one would think I could connect written and spoken sentences at least through punctuation, if not actual logic, but it seems my inability to sit still for more than three minutes at a time at a desk or before a computer inhibits lengthy transitional expression (present sentence perhaps excluded). Fore in my mind at the moment is the anticipation of my outing to the grocery store this evening for milk and oranges. I might forget about the oranges when I get there.
Labels: errands, financial aid, Fuddruckers, grad school, milk, oranges, Radiohead, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:47 PM]
Ich Weiß Nur, Daß Ich Nichts Weiß
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The right rear tire on the tank in which I drive when errand-running blew out after I interviewed for a position at Fuddruckers this afternoon. I rode on the rims for quite a distance before pulling into a Shell. I called for a tow, but cancelled the dispatch upon realization that I am broke. Oh, well. Over the next day I shall scrape up some cash.
I fixed a glorious peanut butter pickle sandwich für Abendessen. Jetzt lese ich vier Bücher; jedes hat umgefähr dreisig übrigen Seiten. Ach. Ich kann nichts beenden.
Labels: books, car, dinner, errands, Fuddruckers, job searching, sandwiches, Shell station, tires, towing
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:14 PM]
We All Want To Change The World
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Whilst out and about the Lubbock megaflopilis this afternoon, I encountered the perfect dress to wear for Adrian and Brian's wedding in May. The clerk at the store will reserve the dress until such time that I return with profits from having stood long enough at the corner of Quaker and 82nd Street. I entered sans makeup and con neko hat, which I suppose accounts for why the sales associate looked at me like I was black as I pawed through $70.00+ skirts and blouses. Nevertheless, she did try to sell me on some off-white shoes, but my over-wide feet rejected them.
The photograph developing machine at CVS this evening proved itself recalcitrant, which translated to me spending an inordinate amount of time wandering the aisles as I awaited the successful processment of pictures dating back to last May. Jetzt muß ich Latein studieren.
Labels: crocheted hat, CVS, dress, feet, Harold's department store, Latin, Lubbock, photographs, shoes, shopping, wedding
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:50 PM]
Your Payment Is Currently Past Due
Monday, March 03, 2008
Riding a bicycle through forty mile-an-hour winds is an exercise in futility similar to that of running through deep water. En route to the Student Union from the Rec Center this morning, the snow shearing into my face and body erst I slowly crossed Flint whipped the crocheted hat everyone covets from my head and up the street. I leapt off the $350 Jamis bike, not looking to see whither it flew, and ran into oncoming traffic after this grey-and-white rag of a hat, weil ohne das Hut ich gar nichts bin. Hat safely recovered, I strode in front of a bus that missed hitting me by five seconds back to the bike, abandoned in front of a sidewalk tree. After I put the cat-hat on again, I became The Fonz.
The Fonz then brunched at the campus Starbucks with Mr. B. Shane Morgan, also known as Doogie Howser.
Labels: bicycle, bus, crocheted hat, Doogie Howser, friends, Rec Center, snow, Starbucks, Student Union, The Fonz, wind
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:40 PM]
We May Not Awaken You
Sunday, March 02, 2008
In lieu of preparing for exams and catching up on sundry coursework assignments, I spent the past three days sleeping, working out, and reading Benjamin. I also applied for a few jobs.
Now my tummy hurts. I may return to the Lair (from the coffee shop) earlier than I had intended, for the purpose of conducting a drug-induced sleeping expedition. Last night's sleeping expedition did not fare well- the wind howled against the building without relent; Kermie and I cuddled the tighter, but never settled into the comfort of full slumber.
Nevertheless, despite feeling extremely alert this morning, I managed to avoid reading Plato's Apology. I ate breakfast and somehow felt accomplished enough.
Lubbock winds tarnish everything, to include the shoes, encrusted with wind-blown dirt, that I threw out this afternoon on account of their over-worn condition. Ow. Sleep.
Labels: breakfast, coffee shop, dirt, job searching, Kermit the Frog, Lubbock, Plato, reading, shoes, sleep, tests, The Apology, The Lauree Lair, Walter Benjamin, wind, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:55 PM]