Saturday, April 26, 2008
Last night what began as an early-evening nap to revitalize myself for study became a fifteen-hour sleeping/tossing-over-in-bed fest. I took a break for about an hour to lie on the floor with my feet propped up on the recliner and the DVD player set on my tummy, to watch a few episodes of "The Twilight Zone" as I tried to drain the liquid out of my lower legs. As far as quarter-life crises go, other people probably have worse.
Birthday goodies received, 2008, #23:
from John: a hugOther birthday presents received included cards, dirty looks, and more food. Next year, I hope everyone sends toilet paper, for that is an expense I must make again presently; I have run clean out. For whatever reason, I resent paying for the privelege of wiping my ass. I used baby wipes at one point this year, but that luxury costs quite a bit more.
from Gilbert: an orange
from Michael: die Nachtricht, daß das Dasein eine Bedeutung hat
from James: an apple pie (which I forgot to take home)
from Curtis: a burger at work
from Tammy: a Fanta and chocolate fudge Poptarts
from Jenni: a book written by Kermit the Frog with lessons on life
from April: a screaming squirrel and an Oscar the Grouch journal
from George: a mood ring
Labels: apple pie, baby wipes, birthday, Fanta, feet, friends, hugging, Kermit the Frog, list, oranges, Oscar the Grouch, Poptarts, sleep, squirrels, The Twilight Zone
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:17 AM]
It Took Me Years To Write
Sunday, April 20, 2008
The nebulous directors of the universe in the university system above apparently imposed more stringent regulations on the Classics Department (and certainly most others) with regard to demonstrating the undergraduate "successful completion rate", whatever that means. This translates to the requirement that, among other things, in my senior portfolio I must compose a paragraph for each upper-level Classics culture course about one thing that "intrigued" me. Pissant that I am, I can think of little else to comment, other than:
I came to class most of the time. I took notes and tried not to nod off during lecture, since despite finding the material interesting, I was too tired from working the night before to listen too attentively. I bubbled in mostly correct answers on the exams. I turned in final papers with few to no grammatical or technical mistakes. I received an "A". What intrigues me most about this class, Dear Sir or Madam, is that anyone could possibly fail it. An additional question arises: why should the University have me submit an assessment for a course it has no intention of ever restructuring?
Labels: assessments, school
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:01 PM]
You Can Call Me A Fickle Thing
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Am morgen früh studiere ich Griechisch bei Professor Christiansen zum letzten Mal. This evening I am finishing the final chapters of the grammar book he let me borrow and preparing about thirty or forty more lines of Plato's Apology. Ich verstehe jetzt how to recognize distinct elements of nouns and adjectives, in particular, which before was not too clear a process. And the independent study has renewed my enthusiasm for and continued interest in learning the language thoroughly.
For the summer I hope to structure a rigourous Latin-Greek-German-eat-sleep-work-school-read routine. It will hurt.
Labels: grammar, Greek, language acquisition, Plato, routine, The Apology
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:12 PM]
Will I Be Handsome...
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The University of Kentucky offered an admissions package to their Classical Languages MA program that I decided to accept. The University of Maryland, from whom I have not heard a definite response with respect to financial aid, was my top choice, but the department probably cannot provide funding, if by this point they have not notified me of a TA appointment decision. So Lexington it is, in most likelihood. No place on Earth could make me more miserable than I have been in Lubbock, so while not particularly enthused about moving to the Midwest, I could also not be happier. I will be satisfied to live anyplace where the dirt stays on the ground, where it in fact belongs.
The program is strong in reception studies for Neo-Latin, which I would want to study in general, but specifically in Deutschland between 1450-1850ish. The Graduate Director encouraged that I travel for study nach Deutschland, but even in lieu of that, the department annually funds summer travel in Italy or Greece for at least one grad student. Wunderbar.
Labels: Deutschland, dirt, financial aid, grad school, Lexington, Lubbock, misery, Neo-Latin, summer study abroad, The University of Kentucky, The University of Maryland
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 4:37 PM]
We Are Never Out Of It
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
This morning the rain beat thunderously loud on the pool roof, which, relievedly, drowned out the pop music station enough that I could kickboard along to my own imagination for once. The noise made me consider whether a nuke might have dropped; this then led to what I might do after nuclear fallout. Ere I paddled along, I glanced over at the other swimmers and wondered, if we were the only people on the planet to survive, which of us would be eaten first. I figured the tall bald guy would be first to get roasted, then perhaps the Asian.
I emerged from the pool and showered in disappointment that the bomb hasn't dropped yet.
Too tired after a three-hour workout to do anything else, afterward I read Doctor Faustus for German class for about three hours, sat through class (watching scenes from a production of The Ring Cycle and trying to pick out the German), then napped. Now I am at the coffee shop, pretending I am doing something dreadfully important. I might return to the Lair to cuddle with Kermie, for whom I never have to pretend anything.
Labels: bombs, coffee shop, Dr. Faustus, German, Kermit the Frog, kickboarding, nuclear fallout, pretending, rain, sleep, swimming, The Lauree Lair, The Ring Cycle, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:20 PM]
Our "Two Posts A Day" Lauree
Monday, April 07, 2008
Since the day I was born, I have never cared much about my birthday. I will feel just as dejected about existing as I did the day previous and do not anticipate a change in that course. But I have been inspired by a blog post from 24. April 2005:
Of course, Kimmy and I are not capable of destroying a race (there must be more- this "Michael" is probably their leader) of aliens by ourselves, so we enlisted the aid of our coworkers, Fisayo and JPat, as well as our manager, Serg (who doubted our possibilities for success). However, none of us could facilitate a plausible course for destroying the aliens, and we therefore sought information from persons coming in to buy food, if they appeared knowledgeable about the subject of eradicating alien life forms.This year, I want to go alien-hunting by day, between Greek and German classes; after sunset, I will look for ghosts. All my friends are chicken shits, though, so I will probably have to resign myself to conducting these investigations with the aid of Kermie and Funshine.
Though many people who come into Sam's at 12:30 a.m. for munchies seem alien-wise, apparently none of them know how best to kill the aliens in our midst. Several people I asked did not understand the gravity of the situation, which I found rather sad, for they will probably be the ones who are eaten first.
At some point around one a.m. the line at my register extended back about six or seven people, who were all apparently friends, chatting with each other about the party they just returned from (less enebriated, though, then other people I encountered last night). The first guy, wearing a bright blue shirt that read, Horn if you're a honky, looked at me blankly when he handed me his candy bar and I asked, "Do you know how to kill the aliens?" I said it loudly to be heard over the Offspring, and everyone in line stopped in mid-sentence to look at me. Pleased to have full attention, I explained the situation, but no one offered answers. They each exited, laughing, oblivious to their impending deaths.
Close to closing time, a boy came in for cookies and two twelve-packs of Dr. Peppers. Dejectedly, I asked for the hundredth time: "Do you know how to stop the aliens?" He could offer no suggestions, either, to which I simply shook my head and uttered, "Shit." He felt sorry for me, though, and wished me luck.
It is for all humanity that he should feel pity, for we are doomed.
Labels: alien-hunting, aliens, birthday, death, Funshine Care Bear, ghost-hunting, Kermit the Frog, munchies, t-shirt, The Offspring, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:40 PM]
With All Due Respect, Sir
Moving to the other side of the middle of nowhere will not make me feel better.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:31 PM]
Make Me A Sandwich, Woman
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Working through the evenings Friday and Saturday led me to reflect people in America should stay at home and cook their own dinners, because I weary of serving it to them. Last night a well-attired man, perhaps fifty-two-or-three-ish, stood at the counter after he had received his order for no other purpose than to harass me and the person on grill (who happens to be the manager, though not in uniform designating him as such when he works in the back), because his food came out after that of a larger group of people, who had allowed him to cut in line so that he and his attractive wife could receive their meal the faster, as they were "in a hurry". Not so time-behaggled were they, though, that "Bartholomew" (the name on the ticket, the etymology for which must consist of two base elements, those for "ass" and "hole") could not resist a return to the pick-up counter to request swiss cheese on his burger in a "you incompetent serving-wench" tone [Bartholomew's ticket contained no reference whatsoever to swiss cheese, nor had he ordered a burger that comes con queso] and then to demand an explanation as to the reason for our over-efficiency in getting a larger order out before his. As I fixed the other tickets and struggled to keep a neutral-but-pleasantly-helpful expression on my face, I considered asking whether a blow job might be the thing to appease him, since my usual sincere apology and a free chocolate chip or white chocolate macadamia nut cookie apparently would not serve to assuage this customer's ire. As he continued berating the guy on grill, I walked away for more cookies, in anticipation of the event that the new cashier might continue to misring orders.
I hope Bartholomew has a girlfriend he sees on the sly, who will give him syphilis. His wife seemed gracious enough.
Labels: cookies, customer service, food, Fuddruckers, grilling, patience, sandwiches, Swiss cheese, syphilis, waiting, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:16 PM]
Baktierielle Infektion der Haut
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
This afternoon a nice lady with a thick Texas accent filled an antibiotics prescription I am to take for a couple of bacterial infections. Basic description:
Akne inversa (engl. Hydradenitis suppurativa)Over the past two years these inflammations have occurred on the bottom of my right foot, under my armpits, and at my hip. The doctor I visited Monday mentioned they also often appear behind the knees and in the groin area.
Schmerzhafte lokale Entzündung der Talgdrüsen und Haarfollikel bevorzugt der Körperfalten (Achseln, Leistenregion) mit Zerstörung der Drüsenausführungsgänge. Die Erkrankung beginnt mit schmerzhaften rötlich-blauen Knötchen, die wie beginnende Furunkel aussehen, und teilweise unter der Haut verschmelzen, Fistelgänge ausbilden und später ein teilweise übel riechendes Sekret absondern. Die Infektion mit Bakterien ist nicht die Ursache der Erkrankung, spielt aber für die Schwere des Verlaufs eine entscheidende Rolle. Als Erreger sind anfänglich Staphylococcus aureus, später auch andere Erreger (Proteus, Pseudomonas etc.) beteiligt. Die Heilung wird begleitet von starker Narbenbildung, die teilweise überschießend verläuft und dadurch die Bewegungsfreiheit einschränken kann.
Diese Infektionskrankheit hat eine sehr geringe Selbstheilungstendenz. Konservative Behandlungsmaßnahmen bringen keinen dauerhaften Erfolg. Auch chirurgische Eingriffe mit Totalentfernung betroffener Hautabschnitte und Ersatz durch Hauttransplantation haben nur in etwa der Hälfte der Fälle Erfolg.
Durch die Immunisierung mit autogenen Vaccine, gegebenenfalls in Kombination mit chirurgischer Korrektur störender Narbenbildung oder Exzision von Fistelarealen, kann die entzündliche Reaktion deutlich vermindert werden. Bei Erregerwechsel ist eine neue Impfserie erforderlich. Voraussetzung ist eine sorgfältige bakteriologische Diagnostik, die alle beteiligten pathogenen Erreger erfassen sollte.
source
Guess where mine are this time. The Internet community ought to be grateful I am disinclined to post pictures. Other than practicing proper hygiene and perhaps losing a little weight, preventitive treatment consists of nothing. Natürlich.
A few months ago, I read an issue of Cosmo in which some slut wrote an urgent letter to the Cosmo Doctor containing an enquiry as to whether omitting underwear as an article of clothing worn underneath her skirt for the period of one day of working and night-clubbing would be unsanitary. When one lift's one's head out of Plato or Cicero to peruse this sort of literature, it becomes ever the more entertaining than it is for regular people (or "normies", as a friend of mine calls them).
Labels: antibiotics, armpits, Cicero, clothes, Cosmopolitan magazine, doctor, feet, German, groin, hip, hydradenitis suppurativa, inflammation, losing weight, normies, Plato, regular people, underwear
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 3:38 PM]