WAG - One Night Only!

In some cases, facts merely need to be reported to be funny.

It seems that on the heels of Dick Cheney, Mizzou is welcoming “Lyle Lovett and His Large Band.”

[It’s not a BIG band, but it still is of mentionable size].

Anyway, he is to be performing at “the Amphitheater” at MU on July 19.

Not only is he showing up during Columbia’s “off-season,” but they wouldn’t even give him a decent venue. Lyle’s stuck with “the Amphitheater,” which is the shallow field between Farrot Stadium and the parking lot.

A small stage is squeezed in, and unless one pays for the upfront seating, they are condemned to camping out on the steep sides of the hill. For the record, the slopes lie at about a 68-degree angle (which makes lots of money for concession workers who cater to people who are constantly spilling their drinks).

Enjoy your stay in Columbia, Mr. Lovett.

'Enjoy_playing_for_the_crickets'

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WAG - A Meditation on the Creative Process

(The following post probably won’t match the impressive title, but heh, what a way to start!)

It can be an art: pulling something out of nothing (and hoping that it adds up to more than the sum of its parts).

More than once, I’ve heard of the battle between the creator and the blank page. Though some say having a clean slate can be freeing, others are daunted by the vast openness.

I know a teacher, and sometime painter, that has the habit of splashing some paint on the canvas to counter the “whiteness.”

Personally, except for a smattering in elementary school and the year I spent trying to make a personal copy of one of Monet’s Water Lilies (long story, don’t ask), I haven’t done much painting.

Nevertheless, I’ve learned how to adapt the approach to the written word. When facing an essay, report, or article (often hours before the deadline, many times I’ve started the process by writing a quick stream-of-consciousness grant.

“Okay. I’m not screwed…yet.

I still have time. I can do this. I just need to focus.

Let’s see… 10 pages due in 14 hours. Easy. Sleep is for losers anyway…”

It’s a combination of an uplifting rallying speech and the private lies one says locker room to get all “psyched” when matched against a superior opponent. They’re designed to help you feel better about writing and fill up space on the page (it does more of the second, but every so often I do feel inspired and can’t wait to write… after one more FreeCell game [I sometimes wonder if Gates included the built in games on his system to keep people busy doing nothing, and thus, further protecting his monopoly]).

Anyway, [pausing for a game of Hearts… maybe two, five] once you have your initial get-the-ball rolling rant, one needs to look to other sources to keep the momentum going. Every day events may provide material, as might the news or research one may do (NOTE: “research” can range from perusing U.S. News & World Report to reviewing whatever page the TV Guide opens to).

Sometimes things just pop into my head (like… wait for it… like How much longer do you think the Devil will wait before collecting the soul Carrot Top obviously sold to gain a long term contract with ATT? Hopefully, not too much longer). Other times, topics tumble about my head for an extended period of time before being tossed out.

It nothing presents itself, you can always meander on about nothing; all while hoping a muse will show up. In Greek mythology there were 9 mistresses of inspiration. You’d think I’d bump into one sooner or later.

If they still don’t show and you’ve exhausted all other options, or don’t feel like doing any more work, you can always tout high-minded musings the inspiration process.

Not that I’d ever do anything as desperate as that.

'Waiting_for_my_muse'

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WAG - Not worth Repeating

I ‘m wary of falling in a rut. My daily routine doesn’t vary much. The scenery fluctuates, but I’ve crafted the working process into a mechanical procedure. It makes things more efficient, but leaves fewer opportunities for entertaining stories (there are always tales to be told, but only so many are worth recounting). After several posts in a row mentioning work, I vow that I shall make no more references to moth hunting for the rest of the posts.

With the possible exception, WORK WORK WORK, of the current throwaway line.

Anyway, um… pardon me while I whip my creative juices like a Nike sneaker sweatshop overseer.

HARDER!

FASTER!

AND DON’T FORGET! IF YOU EVER GET IN TROUBLE, ASK “W.W.J.D. (What Would Jordan Do)?

Well… it looks like they’re flowing, but I’d better kick up the quality control real quick.

The other thing that comes to mind is that if you stall long enough, material will provide itself (this is a constant. I would be a cliché except there’s no copyrighted way of saying it).

Case in point, the local news reported tonight that a company is ringing up people with UNCLAIMED MONEY as the moniker on Caller I.D.

Should someone call the follow-up number (713-789-8319, in case you’re interested and brain dead), people will hear an offer from LostFunds.com pledging to contact the government on your behalf to see if you qualify for any state funding… for a small fee.

If that sounds like a great deal to you, you probably need more sleep and/or need to reconsider your current drug choice. Most of you will easily recognize the outrageousness of such an incredible offer.

The crazy thing is that there is a kernel of truth in this scam, but it’s the part they don’t tell you. The government IS willing to give money to people. All you have to do is go to the State website, FOR FREE.

The spokesman for the State Attorney General, who apparently caught all the other dangerous criminals in Missouri to be able to spend his time on piddly things like this, said these people were more than just annoying scam artists who would go after you once.

People who just called back, but wised up before plunking down the idiot fee, still would be placed in a “Caught Suckers” for future reference. This list of identified “vulnerable consumers” could also be distributed to other scam artists who will add you to their commonly hounded calling list. Have a nice day.

The moral of the story: the government is always willing to give money away and smart people don’t need any help figuring that out.

There's something you shouldn't have to be told twice.

'I_like_THAT_lesson'

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WAG - Belated Oscar Hoedown

Yeah, I realize it's Thursday.

Yes, I know most people have already had their Academy Award round-ups.

But you know, I didn't get to watch the Oscars till today, so I'm going to have a review now.

[Feel free to skip this post, if you'd like. This is more for my personal benefit, but if you keep reading, I hope you do enjoy it]

Always fast forward through the pre-show carpet gabfest. It's never as pretty as they say it will be.

Okay, first off, Calista Flockhart and Harrison Ford top my creepiest couple list. It's nice to know we have a replacement for Billy-Bob Thorton and Angelina Jolie.

NOTE: I'm watching the Oscars on tape and pausing when I want to make a comment, or fast forwarding through boring things. I will strive not to repeat comments already made by the media or by friends, unless it's funny and really worth repeating.

The best animated feature Oscar has only been around for two years, and Disney has yet to win one yet. As if Walt wasn't already on spinning fast enough already.

Whoa! Even after all that grunge, Keanu can still fit in a tux. Cool.

Best Supporting Actor: the place where older, aged actors still have a fighting chance against the younger hot shots - but not this year. Hooray for Chris Cooper - MU alum (who remembered the most important rule of acceptance speeches: save the highest praise for your spouse and your parents).

Jennifer Garner and Mickey Mouse. Why do they do these gimmick things year after year? It's the same thing every time: pick a second tier actor/actress, pair them with an animal or animated character and see what happens.

Yow. After coming up with the outfits that earned her the Best Costume Design Oscar for her work in Chicago, you'd think Colleen Atwood could have saved a good dress for herself. No matter, she won her first Oscar, and that's the important thing.
I always find it a bit annoying when there are categories that aren't totally filled; especially when they are populated by B- or C-class movies (such as the "Time Machine" being put up against "Frida" in Best Makeup). It makes me want to slap together a movie, put it before the academy. I wouldn't expect to win, but I'd be happy enough to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the free seats.

Best Supporting Actress: The category where pretty girls typically trump older women - remains true this year (though I feel very sorry for Kathy Bates, who's first name is also derived from "Katherine." That must have been a very long 3-second gap between Sean's first name announcement and when Zeta's "Chicago" victory theme kicked in).

I don't care if you have Julie Andrew introducing the segment, it's hard to give class to a song and dance number montage. Only two or three didn't appear ridiculous; which is a pretty good trick considering they only had two or three seconds to look kitschy.

They explain it every year, but I don't think I'll ever get the difference between Best Sound Oscar and Best Sound Editing Oscar.

Ah, the first direct comment war of the night. There have been references to wanting peace, but this is the first time I've heard someone draw a distinct line between "us" and them. Good job for that hombre from "Y tu mama tambien."

(I could make a long discourse on how sides label themselves as if "Pro-war" actually encompasses a lot of people [there are very few people who enjoy war] The same goes for people who argue they are "Pro-America" as if the other side is unpatriotic. There are fouls on both sides. I prefer just to move on and ignore the subject - like most of the people at the Oscars)

Of course, I paused to make these comments right before Best Documentary Feature is announced. Heh heh heh…

Michael Moore, hmm… I think the Daily Show put it best. First it was a standing ovation and, "Yeah! Hooray for Michael Moore. We applaud you and your vocal political activism.

Cue inflammatory comments that really heavily on the word fictitious.

And the crowd goes schizophrenic.

Promptly followed by some applause (and several smiles) but many more boos and people asking, "What's up with this political activism stuff? This came out of nowhere."

And that's how you make a memorable Oscar moment folks.

Okay, I have no problem with "Chicago" winning so many awards. Good for them. I just have a problem with Oscar's orchestra's rendition of the theme song. I swear it turns in to straight, boring, white elevator music. There are few things more pathetic than a bunch of white people with no soul singing "All that jazz."

And now we come to the part of the evening when the big awards are handed out. The stakes are as large as some of the egos and standing ovations are sure to follow.

It's not quite as exciting when you already know who's going to win. I've had to watch the Oscars on tape for several years in a roll now, and I've never been able to keep from totally incommunicado. At least I know which tiny box to watch.

Best Actor: A category where it's anybody's game - and tonight it was Brody's turn, who had one of the best speeches of the night. Another planting a long on Halle Berry, he gave what impresses me as one of the most heartfelt, humorous, and touching performances (and give the guy credit for asking the band hold it off just a little bit).

And that's how you make an Oscar moment with class.

Alright. This is nuts. Barbara Streisand awards the Best Song Oscar to Eminem. I knew this was coming, but it still cracks me up. She even said "Whoo" before announcing the name. Of course, the outfit of the proxy acceptor was nice too.

You know, it must be hard to maintain your street cred - when people in tuxes are praising you at ritzy events.

Peter O'Toole finally gets his Oscar. Enough said.

Best Actress - This is usually the Sorry-for-not-giving-this-to-you-two-or-three- years-ago-when-you-really-deserved-it-but-you-did-good-this-year-too-Award. Nicole Kidman makes a good example. See also Julia Roberts. It the old should have won last year, but the academy was sure to catch you on the flip side.

Oscar Roll Call - As if there wasn't enough back patting already… Oh well, it's Hollywood. What else do you expect?

The writer's award follow and I've always been interested in those; for obvious reasons. I'd go more into that, but I'm upset the Nia didn't win for best "Big Fat Greek Wedding" so I'll merely move on, albeit slowly. (a movie about guys with girls in comas versus a girl with a circus for a family? Some days, I guess I don't get it)

And Martin Scorsese is burned again. Don't worry, give him another 20 years to work on a epic and he can compete again.

The Douglas father-son interaction was nice. It's always nice when the son lets the father get the good punchline.

"And the winner is… 'Chicago!'"

Steve Martin makes his final joke, dedication, and that's it. That didn't take it too long.

'Oscar_Oscar'

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WAG - Meaningless Words that Sound Good

I’ve spent 7 hours in the car and $6 to purchase a plastic fish.

If I haven’t seized this day, I don’t what more I could have done.

Today I got to hit my favorite recovery sales place in Kansas City: Cargo Largo.

Paperbacks cost $2.00 and hardbacks cost a buck more (regardless of previously list price.

Most new DVDs are reduced by a third and once you throw in cheap clothing, decorative items, and magnets, and it’s a nice place to cruise.

The challenge is finding diamonds in the rough. One may peruse hundred of titles before plucking out a something worth a second look - and only so many of them are holding on to after that.

Nevertheless, I still walked out with several items including a half dozen shirts (none priced more than $5), two books I’ve had on my list for a while (Prey by Michael Crichton and The Real Science Behind the X-Files by Dr. Anne Simon), and a mountable rainbow trout.

It was a good haul.

Of course, from there, my family hit three antique stores, so I didn’t end on the high note I hoped for, but what can you do?

Sometimes you strike it rich; sometimes you’re just happy to make it out of the mines alive.

The trick is knowing to pull out when the canary starts to get dizzy.

Um… After a second read, I don’t know if that metaphor actually works, but it sounds so cool I’m gonna let it slide.

This may seem like me being lazy, and maybe it is, but the concept of words sounding "right" when they are meaningless reminds me of a certain comic I recalled from going through the back archives of the online comic Scary Go Round.

I pause as you check it out and let it speak for itself...

It's true that some things sound good when echoing in your head, but are actually better left unvoiced.

Now I have to split before the audience traps me in a landslide.

(At least that last one made sense.)

'Though_we_ARE_just_like_shoes'

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WAG - A Memorial Weekend Update

Hello.

This is Caleb’s site.

I am trying a new variation of an old practice so forgive me for the longer post. I hope it is worth the time you spent to read it, skim it, look at the pretty words in caps, etc…

Many of you have been directed to the archive page of the main site of The World According to Gap, though some of you will have wandered here on your own (and good for you).

For visitors who haven’t read an email introduction to this specific post, I’m placing my regular update email here. It’s an attempt to reduce the amount of space I take up in email inboxes with my musings AND increase hits on my site (and further support the lie I tell myself that this site is visited by more people than just my relatives [THANKS FOR READING GRANDMA!]).

Also, if people should reply to my email (and I hope you do), my inbox won’t be besieged by people who simply hit REPLY, type out a few sentences, and send the email back to my inbox. I don’t know if people naively do that out of habit and don’t realize I like to save replies OR whether they do that with the ruthless intent to discourage future mailing by clogging my inbox in return.

Either way, it hasn’t worked yet though.

If you don’t want to be updated again, I don’t know if you’ve actually read so far, but simply email me telling me you want off the list. Don’t jokingly ask to be taken off the list because sarcasm and irony don’t translate well through email and I have accidentally taken people off the mailing list in the past. No hard feelings Brad…?

Anyway, I’ve been doing well lately.

I emerged from another semester at the University of Missouri – Columbia largely unscathed; despite numerous assaults on my sanity (many self-inflicted). Working at the local newspaper was a challenge that I enjoyed, but won’t be returning to for at least another semester. I may try it again in the spring, but after signing up for a third year of Marching Mizzou, I don’t want my schedule to go from Mission: Improbable to Mission: Impossible.

(APPOLOGIES TO PETER GRAVES FOR THAT LAST PUN).

(NO APPOLOGIES TO TOM CRUISE, HOWEVER)

Anyway, instead of logging stories for the Columbia Missourian, I’m logging miles for the Missouri Department of Conservation’s gypsy moth trapping program. It has caused me to totally revamp my daily routine.

Defying my night-owl inclinations, I get up early (for me) around 6 a.m. to start a full day of moth tracking. After pounding the snooze alarm for a while, I get up do my online news crunch checking email and wire sites (just like in college, except I’m working on a much slower laptop and internet connection – a fierce double-whammy) before piling into the truck around 8-ish. Since work starts and ends when I want it to, with my boss’s blessing of course, I sometimes take greater advantage of the ambiguous starting time than I should.

My job is to set and check red cardboard traps to snare the “fearsome” Gypsy Moth. It may not sound like much, but it beats flipping burgers. My title is moth trapper, but my job more typically entails driving the back roads of two counties while cranking the radio in my Department of Conservation truck.

I’ll probably encounter more poison ivy or paranoid land owners than gypsy moths (only four were found in the state last year), but it’s a great chance to work on my own outdoors. When your office is a truck and the company pays for your gas, you don’t have much to complain about.

I usually work eight hours straight, eat my sandwiches between stops, and take my “lunch break” at the end of the day so I’m around 5 p.m. at the latest. Having my evenings free is a greater benefit when one has someone to spend the time with, but with my girlfriend living 160 miles away, it’s not as big a deal this year as it was last year.

I haven’t directly mentioned this in the Blog till now (though I’ve hinted at I), I’m going out with Jessica “Jessie” Wyatt. We went to the same church in Columbia, and when I spent part of my Spring Break working extra for the Missourian, we got to know each other a little better.

One thing led to another and now we’re working to keep up a long-distance relationship through phone calls and letters (and maybe emails if she gets her computer situation worked out). We won’t get to see each other very often, but since we both admit we’re not easy people to put up with, going slow might be for the best.

At least that’s what we try to tell ourselves.

In other church related news, at my Sullivan church, I “graduated” from the High School Sunday school class into the Adult class. I’m going to turn 21 this summer (on July 20 for those who wish to send regards, letters, or cash) and I figured I was about to overstay my welcome. Of course, now it’s weird being in the same class as your father, but that’s the way life goes sometimes.

After moving around so much when I was younger, part of me doesn’t find it such a big deal to move on. I’m already making plans for next semester when I’ll be a Community Advisor in Cramer Hall – the Journalism/Mass Communication learning community.

(Note: I spammed my co-workers for next year with a link to come to this site, and if they had the attention span to read thus for (and Lord bless ‘em if they did), so I know they would call me on it if I didn’t stress the fact that Mass Communications is a VERY IMPORTANT part of residential life and how ABSOLUTELY VITAL it is not to malign or neglect to mention it.

It will be strange leaving the Honors Learning Community in Hatch Hall behind, but it’s a chance to help cultivate the minds of a new group of people. Actually, it’s really an excuse to have my own room and swap stories, but I plan to work to build a stronger sense of community in the dorm… when I have the time… Just joking… I think.

Seriously, it’s a lot of responsibility, but it can also be a lot of fun. The idea is to do the most with the first part and hopefully have enough time to have some of the second part as well. I’ve always been working to build up the people around me; I just now have a more formal commission of doing so.

Here’s hoping I’m up to the task (and this isn’t just “whistling Dixie” to sound impressive. This is my honest prayer).

Anyway, I have lots of reasons to be excited over the summer and lots of things to look forward to when I return to Columbia. I pray all your summers are doing well and hope to hear from you all soon.

Sarcastic or sincere, serious or joking, there’re few things better than having an inbox full of notes from your friends.

I hope this post was worth the time it took to read it and hope this site lives up to the play-up I sometimes give it.

Take care of yourselves,

- Caleb

'TTFN_tah_tah_for_now'

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WAG - A Weekend Reprieve

It’s nice when one gets around to vacationing over their vacation.

I’ve occasionally found that relaxing can be difficult even when one has put aside the time to be relaxed. Just the act of scheduling time to be “at ease” imposes an air of formality on it that isn’t akin to a peaceful, soothing environment.

That still seems to confusing…

Let’s just say Taking a break takes work.

My “Summer Vacation” technically started at 12:25 p.m. on May 16 when I turned in my final Final. Yet, this weekend was the first chance I got to crash and unwind without any strings.

Of course, being the lone grandchild in your grandparents’ house is funny that way.

I’ve been able to catch up on my reading. I’ve already polished off four books since I hit Kansas City (well, Lee’s Summit if you want to get technical, but most people don’t know the distinction. It’s akin to a suburb within the Greater St. Louis or Chicago area. The sprawl goes on even when the city limits stop). I’m already halfway through the next AND I’ve had the luxury of taking an afternoon nap.

Life is good.

I’ve also been able to write at my leisure or laziness – depending on who is calling the shots.

My parents are currently camping out at Fort Osage, where they are participating in a Memorial Weekend Celebration of the last 200 years in history. Multiple reenacting groups, covering multiple eras in our nation’s history were gathering to host the first such event of its kind at the reconstructed fort (well mostly reconstructed. There hasn’t been enough money raised to finish the wall around the fort, and I’ve joked how easy it must have been for raiders to slip in [I’ve often rhetorically asked if they kept the grass mowed that short around the fort in the 1800s, or if they let it grow a bit higher, but my parents don’t appreciate that kind of comment either]).

As usual, they are portraying a couple from the War of 1812 (weren’t names for conflicts simpler back then). They regularly work with a group that is to represent the First Regiment of the Missouri Infantry. My Dad, who recently upgraded himself from militia man to full fledged infantry man, is spending time with surveyors from the Lewis and Clark expedition, Osage Indian scouts, colonial homesteaders, and a Vietnam War troop (complete with jeep and Vietnamese nurse).

It’s a wacky site to see and I only saw them in setup.

I had the invite to participate, but I preferred to sleep in and cozy up with a few good books. It’s not that I don’t like camping and reenacting (it’s what I was doing last weekend), but I was looking for even simpler pleasures.

In my defense, my grandmother even offered me keys to her car in case I felt like shopping or driving around, but I turned that down as well.

My life so often seems to be running at full tilt I know it’s nice to slow down every once in a while. I already have a number of weekends filled up this summer with family- and church-related trips and am looking to book up a few more.

More than once I have looked at the paradoxical pair of phrases: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” and, “No rest for the wicked.”

I’ve tried to figure out which end of the spectrum I’m on, but it really doesn’t matter because the race goes on regardless. I know your “affiliation” doesn’t change the pace. It only alters what happens when it ends.

I know my end destination, and I know I’m still running, but the distance between the two is unknown. For the weekend, I’ve downshifted and am taking a breather; or as much as one can mid-stride.

My cross-country coach taught me never to stop. I was allowed to slow down, if I HAD to, but I was told always to keep progressing because that meant I was always getting closer to the end.

I finished every race I ran, even the one I got lost on (I wasn’t the only one, though I was the one conducting votes among the dozen to which direction we’d turn next). Some of them I slowed down, sometimes I walked, but I always remained in motion.

Granted, now the alternative entails more than the threat of having to walk home (which after one has gone several miles seems so much crueler and more serious form of punishment), but I don’t really mind.

I plan on getting to the end of the race as well, but I take some pleasure in the fact I know I can slow down – if only for the weekend.

'No_work_AND_no_chores_EQUALS_no_problems'

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WAG - A Brief Over-Explanation (and use) of Words

Ah…

I haven’t even been in Sullivan a week and I’m already out on the road again.

Well, I’m not currently on a road, but have rather traveled one today and now find myself at a location more distant than the place I first woke up at.

Curse my inborn inclination to be accurate to the point of composing long, protracted, and unnecessary explanatory paragraphs thus, spending more words on the situation than they actually deserve.

A person in this mindset hears a comment like, “It’s good to see you,” and begins to question how the brain’s translation of visual images can prompt pleasure in the receptor of those transmissions.

“The mere act of seeing can’t be that big of deal!” a person might exclaim… and then be forced to explain their comments to a confused person who was merely wishing to convey a message of well meaning.

As a person who loathes math (or at least anything past 7th grade math. Once you got past addition, subtraction, division, multiplication and the standard variations of those four, I’ve been clueless ever since), I’ve still have an analytical mind.

My brain still tries to quantify things; plunk factors into previously calculated equations and see how things add up. I suppose that’s where I get my stickler’s policing of word choice.

I know a person may mean what they say, I question if their words actually back up their intent.

“I’m just happy to be here,” doesn’t mean a person is content to be residing in a particular spot. It means one is pleased to be located in familiar place and/or surrounded by good friends. Even then, it’s not physical proximity of the people, but the good times they help create or happy memories they provoke that help prompt happiness.

Of course, that truer statement is much more confusing than a less accurate five-word statement. That’s why most people accept those statements without another thought and focus on the more important things.

But not me… It’s a blessing and a curse, but it helps me more accurately communicate what is going on in the world around me.

Even if it takes a whole page to say one is in Kansas City and not Sullivan.

'Why_use_one_word_when_you_can_use_100'

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WAG - Day Two: Mother Nature Strikes Back!

There are few things as unique as the itching sensation when your eyes confirm that creeping fear that yes, you bare arm IS making physical concept with Poison Ivy.

“One, two, three leaves,” I counted out loud. “Nope. That’s not Virginia Creeper.”

Yesterday may have been my first day of work this summer, but today was my first day in the field. Coincidentally, that coincided with my reintroduction to poison ivy, wild dogs, and long black snakes.

One of the more surrealistic moments of the day was when I was putting a moth trap up in a city park. I planned to put it in the same general spot, and liked the area because it was usually abandoned and I got to drive over a thin little dam which keeps the city lake from flowing away.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered today was Field Day at the lake.

Cruising down the thin little road, at the posted 10 MPR speed limit, I still saw little kids scramble to get out of the way (even though I was several hundreds of meters away). They didn’t seem too happy to see me – until I passed by and they saw the Missouri Department of Conservation decal on the side of the truck.

For about a minute, I was the coolest guy in Gerald.

Then they got to the swing set – and their estimation of me greatly decreased.

So, I went reverted to my regular "perceived cool level."

It will take a little readjustment period, but brushing up against poison ivy and encountering wild animals is simply an everyday aspect of the job. One may forget, or repress, little details like that (unless one is engaging in an one-upmanship contest for the title of “Roughest Summer Experience.” We’ve all grappled in one of those. In the old days, we’d complain about being drug to some flat, characterless state. No we weigh psychotic customers handled, nutcase bosses/management, or improbable situations faced – and occasionally overcome).

So I’m pretty much saying I’m just warming up. I haven’t been confronted by any gun toting landowners curious to know why I’m so “interested” in their property. I haven’t run off the road to make room for a Missouri Department of Transportation truck. I have yet to be stung by a wasp, or broken out in a rash, or had to pick up trashed campsites - which all happened in 2002.

But the year is young… And I’m just getting started.

In the struggle against Mother Nature, one must remember that both sides will have the opportunity to get their licks in and neither side will withdraw unscathed.

Allow me to do some wrap-up tallying…

When man goes up against poison ivy, one would think one would deem Mother Nature the victor.

But one shouldn’t forget that man created (or at least packaged) alcohol-based Wet Wipes – which can counter the oils of the plant.

Which means, man still trumps over nature.

At least for now…

'the_epic_stuggle_between_man_and_moth_continues'

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WAG - On the Track of the Wild Gypsy Moth

(Well, really one isn’t following the bugs’ tiny footprints or anything, but still, you know what I mean).

Today I again picked up the mantle of Moth Trapper for the Missouri Department of Conservation – Forestry Division. I am to hunt the vile scourge of the fearsome Gypsy Moth.

The first day on this job, as in most professions, was filled with paperwork and instructional videos.

I worked the same job last year, and my boss has been a friend to the family for over a decade, so it’s always interesting coughing up various forms of identification to prove you didn’t illegally sneak over the boarder from Canada or something. All you have to do is present some easily forged pieces of paper and “POOF!” you’re legal – as far as anyone cares or knows.

The educational portion of the day was “interesting,” which is the polite way of saying “you learned something but the presentation was lacking,” which is an even more subtle way of calling it “boring.” The man instructor meant well, but after the training my boss admitted the presenter was rather droll.

Since I’d already had a dose of the information before – I was the only returning trapper from the previous year – I decided to write down the more entertaining excerpts to better explain why my calling as moth hunter is vitally important to the “beautiful state of Missouri.”

To help protect Missouri’s “natural splendor,” steps need to be made to counter the “threat” of the gypsy moth which has the potential to become a “dominant biological force” in the state. As the video said, “It’s not just another insect.”

The gypsy moth was first brought to America by the French (insert your favorite quasi-patriotic-France-bashing-joke here) in 1882. The idea was to crossbreed it with the silk worm – a Frankenstein-ish idea of the nature that would latter spawn the creation of killer bees. They escaped the factory and began their steady travel Southwest across the country.

Gypsy moths primarily target hardwood trees. It’s not that they destroy everything in sight – say like locusts or accident-prone teenagers – they just “alter the wildlife composition” by removing certain species of trees and allowing other kinds to thrive.

The idea is that when more oaks are removed from the equation, more cedars will pop up to take their place. Their pace has been slow, advancing only a handful of miles a year it took over a century for the frontline of moths to reach Chicago, it is projected they will reach Missouri in a few more decades.

This has the potentiality to impact Missouri in several ways:

As the environment changes, an area’s dominant animals may change along with the alterations in habitat.

The video warned, ”The gypsy moth is no friend of the tourist industry.” People who travel to places like Branson or the Lake of the Ozarks to witness our pristine beauty may be put off by the trees stripped of leaves and mounds of moth droppings.

That same “fecal matter” can also impact water quality and may finder local fish populations or even local town’s water supplies.

Also, Missouri’s lumber industry, which is a multi-billion dollar industry (and we only have so many of those) is primarily dependent on hardwoods. The state’s wood supply is also the of the “highest susceptibility to oak” compared to other states not yet “plagued by the cursed moths.

Granted, the main line of moths won’t come to Missouri any time soon. The earliest prediction is 2015, though it could be as late as 2030.

I’m merely part of the “monitoring” program that is a smaller part of the long-term plan. The Department of Conservation works with the USDA, the Missouri Department of Agriculture, the National Guard, and the Department of Defense to participate in a “statewide detection survey” by setting traps throughout the state (the DOD traps around Whiteman Air Force Base. It seems they don’t like the idea of civilians lolly-gagging around the stealth bombers).

Our job is to “prevent the premature arrival” of the moths through spot population appearances. This occurs thanks to egg masses being transported from “infested areas” to “uninfected areas” and later hatching to bring gypsy moths to the state before the front line.

We “slow the spread” by putting up red boxes with glue and a pheromone strip on the inside. The scent of a female moth in heat is to draw in the unsuspecting male (insert mindless-male-joke here)

Over the years, the number of moths discovered has lessened. Two years ago only 6 were found in the entire state. Last year, only four were trapped, but they were in the St. Louis area, so our section has to be especially vigilant.

“Nature will find a balance,” the video said in wrap-up. The moths’ movement is unstoppable, but man is hoping to shape that future regardless of the wild’s intent. We’re fighting an unwinable war in the struggle to preserve a little precious portion of our lives. The odds are against us, but we still forage ahead to face our foe, and hopefully, make the world a better place.

If you think about it, it sounds like the plot of a Schwarzenegger movie.

Not too bad for a guy who’s going after moths.

'Moths_quiver_at_the_sound_of_my_name'

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WAG - Being Reunited With the TV

Over Christmas or Spring Break, my days are filled with daytime television. I’m not sure if it is out of overcompensation for the lack of television viewed while in college, or latent laziness manifesting itself, but I would spend a lot of time out on the couch.

I try no to get hooked on soaps. It seems I get snagged every couple of years for a season (I seem to be a 3-year rotation). It’s a disease; I’ll admit. Usually I’m only interested in a single plot line, which is visited but once or twice during the course of the program, and have to muddle through ridiculous stories and poorer acting. And when the end of summer comes, there’s some wicked withdrawals one has to go through. One finds themselves thinking, “I wonder what Stefano is up to now?” or “Why can’t Bo and Hope EVER seem to stay together?”

My mother long ago taught me to watch the movies Soapdish and Tootsie to help get over my addictions by watching the movies that poke fun at how incredibly stupid the shows are in theory – let alone practice.

I just love the exchange in Soapdish about the reappearance of a formerly dead character that was meant to be beyond resurrection.

After the writer recounts how they decapitated a character to prevent his return, she is told to say they just sewed the head back on.

Such scenes, which aren’t too much removed from the nonsense that appears on the tv screen would help snap be back into reality.

Of course, there’s no such fix for game show addiction.

The Price is Right has long held me in a grip. This is due to its lack of competition in timeslot. One may want to flip past the Springer/Ricki/Maury/etc. Slut and/or Man-ho of the day, but Bob Barker often ends up looking like the classiest show before lunch.

I’ve often found there’s more reality in these openly staged shows than the snazzy, staged shows that hope you ignore the fact they’re obviously staged.

The pained look on a guy’s face when he’s outbid on a product by a single dollar or an old lady’s expression of disbelief when she finds her showcase includes a guitar, jukebox, and a speedboat display more genuine emotion than you’d see in most shows.

Of course, I don’t get to see such things nowadays. Things are very different over Summer Vacation.

Instead of being a bum by day, I have to get up and punch the clock (actually, there’s no clock to punch, but I do have to denote what time I start work in a handy dandy notebook). Working for the Missouri Department of Conservation, rather than Wal-Mart or Sullivan C-2 School District, requires me to work more hours earlier in the day.

I often got the late shift at the garden center or was home just after lunch with the school’s summer reading program.

Now, my mornings are gone; but my evenings are free. It’s not a bad trade, other than one has to share the couch.

But I don’t start work until tomorrow. So for now, the couch and the remote control are uncontestedly mine.

I’d write more, but I want to see what Stefano is up to now…

'alone_on_the_couch'

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WAG - Tired...

And forced to work on the tired laptop which can't handle simple things Windows XP or anything more than Microsoft Internet Explorer 4.0.

I'd hook up my own computer, but I have so many sacks of crap packed into my room, I barely have have the room to reach the bed.

Maybe if I hadn't camped out this weekend, I could have worked on it more.

And maybe spent more time on this post.

It's in interesting how life goes...

'drained'

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WAG - Up with the Sun, Gone with the Wind

The lyrics to the song Travelin’ Man by Bob Seger are playing in my head.

There’s one main reason why: I’m pullin’ out.

It’s time to hit the road again. I’ll be camping this weekend, but will update as soon as I get back.

Adios, for now.

'Hitting_the_Road'

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WAG - Stranger in a Strange Land

Wow! Look at all the bare walls...

My packing is pretty much done and the room looks so different.

The majority of my college life has been crammed into a series of boxes and plastic bags. The drawers are empty and the shelves are all cleared expect for a single plant and a case of root beer (I give you the flavor of the carbonated beverage to avoid the classic pop/soda/soda-pop debate).

All I have left to gather up is my bad stuff, a stack of humanity books the computer, and about a half dozen items left on the desk I’ll need for my usual routine (clock, deodorant, bible, etc.).

It’s weird seeing this room devoid of color, of trimmings, of character.

It also means this semester is almost over… for which I’m thankful and disappointed.

Endings are always bittersweet. Some doors are closed as new ones open up.

The trick is in figuring out which ones to bypass and which ones to go through.

But I don’t have to worry about that just yet.

After all, I still have one more night to go.

As long as I don’t freak out when I wake up in the morning and don’t recognize where I am, everything should be okay.

Pleasant dreams.

'Goodnight_moon_Goodnight_room'

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WAG - And Then there was One…

My roommate Tyler has left the building.

More than one friend has commented that the room now “looks bigger” somehow, though I am going nuts enough try get over the fact I lost both the phone and the refrigerator.

That means, no more last minute phone calls or cartons of milk in the morning.

Of course, this is all warm-up for missing all the perks of college (broadband internet, more peers to hang out with, self-set curfew, etc).

In another 24 hours, I’ll be out of Columbia, though not in Sullivan. I’ll be camping this weekend. Quality time with my own bed and the family cat will have to wait.

After answering the call of the Missourian and the Final, I must heed the call of the wild before hitting Sullivan.

But until then, I have the room to myself in a dorm where the population is thinning out quicker than in any Agatha Christie mystery I’ve read.

If the murderer comes to kill me while I’m eating my dry, milk-less cereal, I’ll have no way to call for help – but that’s a chance I’m willing to take… but only for one more night.

'I_think_the_butler_did_it'

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WAG - You can drive a person crazy

[I've been working on this post off and on for a couple of days. I hope you learn something from the extra effort.]

Remember in Middle School where if wanted to know if someone liked you and all you had to do was send a note reading:

Do you like me? (CIRCLE ONE)

YES Or NO

I’ve gotten into numerous conversations about this with people (some which I started, some which popped up without me saying anything) and I’ve found there is a bit of nostalgia for the practice. Being able to go back a time when things were more straight forward, and there were a lot less games.

Granted, if someone wrote in MAYBE, it might keep you guessing, but a MAYBE keeps one’s hopes up better than a flat out NO (with several exclamation points drawn in for good measure!!!!!!!).

I mainly remember this surfacing in Middle School. Somewhere between Elementary School, where boys were “dirty and icky” and girls had “cooties,” and High School when most people were too focused on appearances to resort to such honesty, note passing flourished, and for a time things were simple.

Now, we have sometimes found myself wishing things hadn’t gotten so much more complicated. To truly gauge a person’s feelings, people go through multiple sources besides the person you’re interested in. Friends and family are sometimes referenced before proceeding. One may also try plugging into the current gossip line, though it is better at reporting proposed theories rather than documented facts.

One can try cutting through the tape by asking the direct question. Of course, when you tip your hand there is no guarantee they will respond in turn – and there’s few things as “thrilling” as knowing they have complete knowledge about where you stand AND you know nothing about their stance.

It’s a game of poker where the stakes can be high: winning the pot can be a dream and losing can be a nightmare. Of course, the card game metaphor can only go so far because people are always entering and leaving the game, there is no set rotating order of whose turn it is, and when you go to lay down a card what you think might be an ace may end up being a deuce.

It’s nutty, crazy, and a lot of fun…at least right now.

Ask me again in another couple of hands and we’ll see.

We may never be able to return to the simplicity of the “love ballot” approach, but I tae some comfort in the knowledge that the straightforward approach can work.

It just takes two honest people to work…

Now that isn’t complicated at all.

'You_can_drive_a_person_mad'

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WAG - Trying to Keep My Head on Straight
as the World Rocks Beneath My Feet

Concentration…is eluding me.

I’d like to blame it all on the end of the semester, but that wouldn’t entirely be true.

The end of the semester isn’t the prompt causing the loss of concentration I alluded to earlier. My feeling of disjointedness comes stems from the changes that come with the closing of a chapter.

Changes in location, changes in peers, changes in rules, changes in activity, changes in options…

I don’t fear change. I know I can’t stay in college forever (though some people try). There’s just a bit of uneasiness associated with the knowledge one’s norms are about to change.

“Humans are creatures of habit,” people say. We like our routines. There are many different variations, and the though some of them may appear chaotic, people take pleasure in their preferred method to their madness.

We don’t like it when the boat rocks. It irritates and makes us uncomfortable. But on the sea of life, it’s a given we’re going to be perturbed - and that it’s going to be a common occurrence as well.

So that’s why my thought process feels a bit disjointed, on the fritz, and a little bit fuzzy.

And that’s why I have to buckle down and deal with it, because the waves are going to keep coming and I’d like to keep sailing.

'Come_sail_away'

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WAG - End of the Semester Silliness

Once again I find myself changing from wet clothes into my swim trunks.

It's been a good day.

After spending most of the at the computer at my desk - mostly playing computer games - I got around campus this evening.

First, I went with several friends to torch notes and papers that have accumulated over the semester that are no longer needed. Me being a packrat, I didn't bring much to burn, but there was some perverse pleasure in roasting an edition of the Missourian.

We had three fires roaring on the grills and kept them going for some time - which is a good trip considering how fast paper fires last.

At the end, as the flames died down, the smoke was in the air, and ash swirled around we paused for a moment.

"I feel cleansed," Stephanie said.

"I feel like I need a shower," Anna said - prompting the rest of us to crack up.

From there we went to the "Midnight Breakfast" put on by the student staff of the dorm. It was a slim meal of bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs, and French toast sticks [excuse me, FREEDOM toast sticks].

It's not much, but it's cheaper than IHOP, a more cheerful atmosphere than the Waffle House, and did I mention free?

Next, our group proceeded on to the quad and the columns across from Jesse Hall. We took the scenic route to get a better view and because Stephanie, who works at Jesse, had lied to get out of work early (in her defense, she has a long, solo drive tomorrow and didn't want to packing out the equipment for the production of Saturday Night Fever until 1 a.m.).

Anyway, we got to check out the bats that we're flocking around the dome before making out way to the columns.

We took photos, rolled down the hill and simply talked.

My friend R.J. was sure he could leap from column to column without a running start, while others told him he couldn't and/or it was to stupid to try.

I thought he could, but kinda agreed on the stupid part since he was wearing sandals (and they're not well known for traction). The distance wasn't even 5 feet, and after the initial debate slowed down, I made the jump when no one was paying attention to me.

Of course, leaping through the air tends to attract the eye so shortly after R.J. pleaded his case by saying, "Look, Caleb can do it..." he was bounding from column to column.

Last, we made our way to the fountain near Brady Commons with the intent to take a quick dip in it. "Diving" in the campus fountains is a traditional act, albeit on that is usually discouraged by campus policy.

The soap that filled the fountain, whether placed there by MUPD or stupid frat people (earlier on the quad, there were people taking pictures of plastic geese poised on the columns. They refused to tell us why, but it was obvious they were of members of a Greek organization], but extra steps had been taking to try to curtail the behavior.

Of course, six of still slid into the cold, soapy water, submerged ourselves, and then made a hasty exit taking the scenic route back to Hatch - to avoid extra attention.

We left a water trail for quite a ways, though it started to rain, and that covered our tracks quite well. When we got back to the door someone said, "I TOLD you it was raining hard."

I made my way back up to the room and changed out of my wet, formerly sooty and grungy clothes and into the swimming trunks I've taken to wearing at the end of the semester.

Something about going from the Missourian's semi-strict dress code to being able to wear not only shorts, but also swim trunks, gives me great twisted pleasure.

Anyway, today has had a good start and if anyone questions me about what happened, I'll simply tell them it was good clean fun.

And I have the soap in my clothes to back that up.

'rub_a_dub_dub'

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WAG - Hi! I am...GOING INSANE!

[....started 5-12-03, completed 5-13-03]

I got through the busiest day of my week.

I had to get my portfolio in to the Missourian before 9 a.m., I had to open the front desk, I had to do the dorm mail, I had to rendezvous with my Dad to send some stuff home, I had a drug test to get done, I had essays due, and a final afternoon meeting at the Missourian.

When I look at my scorecard, getting 6/7 done on time ain't too bad.

It felt like a rush to get everything down - because it was.

My personal favorite trick was finding mailboxes in Neff right before the lady came to lock them up. It was literally the last possible moment they could have been turned in.

In retrospect, that is nicely balanced by being one hour late to the Missourian local government beat meeting.

I showed up, technically. No one was in the conference room when I got there - they'd all gone out to a restaurant - but I did get it done.

Yeah for me...

Note: The title of this stems from the musings of a stressed mind. While packing up my room into individually stuffed Wal-Mart bags, I came across a box of name badge stickers.

I won't go into the story of why I got them (the stories you can imagine are much more entertaining than reality, I can promise you). The important thing is that I was looking at that and thinking of variations on the standard: "Hi! I am __________."

Suddenly, inspiration struck and I knew what I must do.

And that is how I got to be walking around with a red name badge stating, "Hi! I am... GOING INSANE" written in tight purple letters.

The funniest thing of all is the fact that only one person said something to me about it without being prompted by me first.

I think they were afraid it might be true.

I'd complain, but I think it might be true. Other tension reliever stunts I plan to pull are wearing my Sullivan Police Officer uniform when I open the desk tomorrow and wearing an aluminum hat to my Humanities final on Friday (I plan to tell people, "It keeps the ideas from leaking out)."

I still need something for Thursday though. I'm open to suggestions.

'feeling_flippity_wippitty_in_the_wobbity_woo'

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WAG - All but done...

The semester is almost over.

I may have finished my last Missourian article today; and if it wasn't the last, it's probably the second to last.

Things are winding down...

Thank Goodness!


'and_time_goes_by'

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WAG - When the Bizarre Becomes the Norm

Over the last 40 hours, we've had 3 tornado warnings that forced everyone into the Hatch basement.

Well, not everyone. Not the people who weren't here when the sirens went off and not the ones who decided to leave the building or stick around in their rooms despite the warnings.

The 200-odd people who have consistently made the trek downstairs are beginning to become pretty blasé about the whole process.

People who were worried and a bit nervous the first time are becoming as stoic as the regular Mid-Westerners who have years of experience sitting on the east end of Tornado Alley.

Lots of people are like, "Yeah, I've seen a tornado. So?"

Some of us have debated tornados versus hurricanes, but it still comes down to the basic lesser of two evils question - and it always remains unresolved becomes some people just prefer different evils.

Anyway, people have gotten to the point where they know to grab a pack or card or a book before marching down to the basement.

We know to stop the dryers - which make it even hotter, as well as bring change for the soda machine - which hasn't gotten this much use all year (I especially liked my Coke with a Purple March Madness bottle cap).

We keep hearing this is a record number of tornado warnings and that this is an once-in-a-lifetime event, but it doesn't affect most of us. Most of the major storms have gone around Columbia - or in the case of the last wave when a twister was spotted - didn't touch down.

Green tinted skies and evacuations are becoming typical.

Note: The radar channel just went into "Zoom-in" mode. That means another wave is about to break on us.

I've been in so many situations involving tornados, I'm pretty passive about it. After you've huddled in the basement with a cat, or sat bunched up against a load desks on the war side of the classroom, or sat in a traffic jam as a funnel cloud crossed the overpass a quarter mile ahead of you, you become - not apathetic, but readjusted to the situation.

Yep, another storm is about to break - so?

Looking at the extreme close-up on the screen, it looks like the front has a small gap in it, and that most of it is going to pass right around Columbia.

Some people want to go storm chasing and others are ready to pull out of town, but those are the extremes.

Most of us, are like me: simply waiting to ride out the storm.

I wonder what's on TV...

'dont_know_why_theres_no_sun_up_in_the_sky'

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WAG - What not to do when a tornado siren is going off:

After two tornado alerts in under 24 hours, and more bad weather forecasted, this is what I've learned.

Whistling the theme to Singin' in the Rain is rarely appreciated.

Bringing change for the soda machine downstairs is a must.

Referring to lessons learned from Twister will not be appreciated by agitated people.

And they don't like Wizard of Oz references either.

A lesson well learned...


'Auntie_Em_Auntie_Em'

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WAG - Can You Keep a Secret?

Shhh!

I'm in the Missourian newsroom and I'm wearing a long sleaved t-shirt.

Be vewry, vewry, quiet! I'm bwreaking dress code.

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!

'loose_lips_sink_Smiths'

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WAG - A Depressing Perspective

It is so hard to watch a person in trouble refuse to accept help.

It's even harder when you can tell by the look in their eye that they know what the truth is, but still refuse to embrace it.

It's the hardest spectator sport of all; the one where you are forever denied participation or entry into the game.

The one-on-one match will be played by someone else. They will have to make the deicisons on their own.

Lord help them through it.

'please_pray'

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WAG - End of the Semester Burn-out

We're certainly reaching the end of the school.

There's something in the air. It's almost palatable; as if by sticking out your tongue you could taste it.

You would get some weird looks though, or get asked out on a date by a creepy person, so I'd suggest against it.

I have a major project due in about 13 hours and two bigger articles to write at the Missourian.

Earlier this evening, a friend and I talked about saying, "screw it all," cashing out our meal plans, "borrowing" a friend's car, and going till we hit another country's border or a major body of water.

That sad thing is that we were only partially joking. The idea was really appealing, to say the least.

I've often observed that in track, the last lap seems to take the longest. It may be equal in length to other loops you've made, but the combined drain from all those previous orbits seems to weigh on your heavier.

The ironic thing is that both coaches and teachers expect you to run the last lap the hardest.

In the end, it isn't surprising that one takes comfort in little things.

I was tickled today to find a big "Happy Birthday Caleb!" sign in front of my door. In the corner, was the comment "on July 20."

Also entertaining was a link on my sister's site. She's put up some weird ones lately, but the latest one thrilled me to death when I was working at the desk this evening.

Playing Fly Guy gave me great personal satisfaction; especially when I found him a dancing partner.

Hint: the big boxer angel is not one you should ask to dance.

The fact that the previous sentence actually makes sense frightens me a bit.

I have a big revision to do on my project as well as write some memo where I beg for a better grade than my project deserves.

I'd better get back to work... Or start booking it toward Canada...

It's a hard choice.

I think I'll make the responsible decision tonight.

But I make no promises for tomorrow night.

'Oh_Canada'

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WAG - And my fortune in life continues to amaze me

Long I have bragged/ranted/proclaimed the fact that stuff seems to happen when I'm around.

I'm never sure whether I'm the attractor of misadventures, or whether I'm drawn to them, but we often end up in the same place.

Of course, in some cases, I'm able to cause trouble even when I'm not around.

Tonight was the last Hall Council meeting of the year. There was supposed to be free food and an auction where one bid with Hatch Cash (money earned by showing up to meetings and helping with activities).

I hadn't missed a meeting all semester and had over $100 in Hatch Cash. I was planning to clean up well... until it was noted at the last Local Government beat meeting that I was the only one who hadn't attended a full city council meeting.

I'd gone to the pre-meeting work sessions. I'd gone to extra meetings other days of the week. Once I waited over 2 hours waiting for a closed-door session to end to attend a 1-hour meeting where the topic I was to cover didn't come up.

But still, the fundamental fact remained I hadn't gone to a complete city council meeting - regardless of the fact I had other things planned for that time.

Joy.

Anyone, in my absence I invested all my money with a friend and told her to spend it well. I'd tried to figure out what the auction items were ahead of time, but none of the people who had purchased them could recall many of them.

So off I went to the 7:00 p.m. meeting. The Missourian usually sends two people to cover the event. One leaves early to write the story while the other sticks around to make sure nothing big slips by unnoticed.

I was the one who got to stay for the whole shin-ding. It typically lasts till 10:00 p.m. Tonight, they finally dismissed at 11:04 p.m.

Here are some excerpts from my notes:

"My partner left. Now I'm alone. Wait. This isn't an equal partnership. This isn't a Joe Friday - Frank Smith relationship. Whoa... I just came to the realization that I'm Tonto."

Later: "I had to fight the urge not to say 'How, White Man.'"

After a long drawn out discussion on heavy traffic in a residential area: "Oh for the love of Pete! Just let the kids play in traffic. The smarter ones will survive and the heard will benefit from the thinning out."

"I wonder what is the proper dosage of Cream Savers to keep enough metabolized sugar in my blood stream to keep my brain cells from committing suicide.

All I know is that I need to up my current dosage."

"Lady, your words are heartfelt, eloquent, and well though out. Unfortunately, that wig on your head is so obviously a wig it's hard to take you seriously."

"9:00 Break! - and we're still on page 1 of a 4-page packet..."

"The Democratic process would go so much quicker if we didn't let the public get involved with it."

"Yep, you know the meeting is has gone on too long when the audience is reduced to the 2 signers for the hearing impaired, the talk radio guy, the Columbia Tribune reporter, the Missourian reporter, and some one unaffiliated public spectator who looks like he's about to fall asleep here."

"Currently I have 5 glyphs drawn on my arm and I have traced most of the lines of my palm. Notice how short the attention span line is."

But I think a comment from the radio guy sums it up best: "If we got out of here before 9:00, certain places would freeze. I don't mean 'over' - 'solid.'"

Meanwhile, back at the Hall Council meeting...

The heir to my "fortune" - in money that is absolutely worthless - didn't quite know what to get me. None of the auction items that they could recall intrigued me, so she was left with little guidance and a lot of money.

If you just paused and went, "Uh oh! That looks like the ingredient list for a bad combination," you're very perceptive.

Now I haven't gotten to talk to my friend directly yet, but from what I'm told, there was a major bidding war going on for a snow cone machine.

The price stalled out around $30 dollars, when my friend suddenly bid, "$100!"

In retrospect, I feel like the cliché of the old man in the movies whose upstart protégé makes trouble upon inheriting the reigns of the empire.

When I got back inside Hatch, around 11:24 because some punk beat the crap out of the emergency call light/security system at the front of Hatch again, I was contacted by a person who wanted the snow cone machine.

Before we continue: here's a fun factoid about myself. I don't like snow cones. I don't like cold foods where you're expected to bite in to them. I've always preferred to let them melt in my mouth or in the bowl.

My friend offered to trade me Remember the Titans for the snow cone maker and was surprised to find me quickly accept it. I know I'm loosing lots of Hatch Cash on the trade, but I don't mind.

Once again, I feel like the stereotypical millionaire who regains his fortune, with the help of a spunky do-gooder, and decides his protégé wasn't quite ready for that responsibility or power.

So as I said earlier, I always seem to get involved with interesting things - even when I'm not trying.

Correction: especially when I'm not trying.

Call it good luck, call it strange luck, but you don't have to worry about calling me bored.

It tis my blessing and my curse...and it continues to crack me up.

Life is good.

'happy_with_me_lot_in_life'

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WAG - We Return You To Previously Unscheduled Programming...already in progress

Hey! It's time to play "The Grain of Salt Game!"

How do you play?

I'm glad you asked

First, you need a batch of biased, tilted, and largely unreliable information. One is then to search it fro nuggets of information, that may actually be true, hidden among the sarcasm, double-speak, and downright lies.

One you've mined what you think might be true, go find a block salt lick. Chip off a piece, and swallow it immediately after you ingest your pre-selected processed piece of information.

Now doesn't that taste funny?

Does it make you pause?

Does it make you rethink your decision to accept that piece of knowledge?

Good! It should.

And that's how you play the "Grain of Salt Game."

'enjoy_the_aftertaste_too'

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WAG - Ah... I love the smell of College in the Morning

I just got done with a 5 hour nap to compensate for the hourn and half of sleep I got last night.

Prior to that, in my state of sleep deprivation, I wrote a case study in 15 minutes, I wasted more pieces of paper at Quick Copy, I got my project turned in on time, I was the only person in disucssion group who had read the book The God of Small Things, I grooved to some guys rocking out with some bongos outside the University Bookstore, I checked out the Residence Hall Association Harry Carrey Hot Dog stand (as a part of Random week, we had a guy do his Harry Carrey impersonation for 3 hours as we gave out free hotdogs), I met up with Dan Culp in front of the Fine Arts Building and we lamented how we really should have known if Sullivan was competing in the state music contest today or tomorrow, I still checked in at the Missourian, and then proceeded to slip back out again to finally get, said previously mentioned, 5-hour nap.

If that isn't a slice of college life, albeit an extreme one, I don't know what is.

Party on!


Hey, hey, hey!

I can see you roll your eyes at that "party on!" comment.

It's the end of the semester. I do believe I EARNED the right to say party on; just once.

Thank you.

'Is_It_Stop_Day_yet'

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WAG - Sweet Satisfaction

After all the hard work and effort, it's nice to see your story in the newspaper.

The top story.

Above the fold!

Graphics AND photos, baby!

I passed a tour group where the guide was talking about the "Missouri method" where students get to work at public media outlets.

I wanted to walk up to them and go, "Yeah. This smuck right here is the one who wrote the cover story at the Missourian today. Yeah!"

But I was afraid the dual actions of the stranger interupting the tour group waving a paper at them, and the fact that they really DO let the students have public interaction would scare them too much.

So I walked on, with a knowing look on my face.

Their tour was probably less frightning, but more boring.

The parents probably prefer it that way.

Oh well... Their loss.

If they come to Mizzou, they'll learn that soon enough.

For now, I need to curb some of my celebrations until I get my journalism history project done.

And then I can focus on the Missourian again.

What a vicious circle. At least the merry-go-round is about to stop, at least for a while....

'Keeping_da_master_happy'

Note from 2005:The former link to the Missourian was originally filed under "slavedriver."

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