Quick contact correction.

223 Dix Road, Apartment #38,
Jefferson City, Missouri 65109

The phone number is: 573-635-8872.

Look familiar? Good. This is almost the address I gave earlier. Coinicidentally, it is the one that should have appeared earlier, but didn't.

Let me explain...

In the past, an incomplete address and an incorrect phone number have been given on this site.

I originally forgot to include Missouri after Jefferson City in the original "Praise be..." post. I noticed that this morning and it kinda bugged me (though those of us who still retain our knowledge of the state capitals [Juneau, Alaska through Cheyenne, Wyoming {and extra bonus points for San Juan, Puerto Rico}], you should be able to recall it).

However, when I tried to call home today and got a computer repair place (I think), I knew something was wrong.

There are few things better than your parents telling you that you should have tried to call home, paired with the bristling fact that you tried, oh yes, you tried.

If you tried to use these and had trouble, I apologize... unless you messed up the state capitol thing. I know, Jefferson never really had anything to do with Missouri other than that whole Louisiana Purchase thing. It's all counterintuitive. That's not my fault.

Here's to better luck tomorrow.

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Hey.

I've been back within touch of the internet since Monday (after a weekend spent carting out family appliances and heirlooms [including a set of plywood and cinderblock shelves that I am told have been in our family longer than I have]), but I've been working on other things.

My application to the University of Missouri School of Journalism Graduate Program (boy, there's an awful lot of capitalized proper nouns in that title) is due by September 1. I aim to drive up to Columbia Tuesday to drop off the necessary paperwork in person (as well as collect letters of recommendation).

Also of note, today I was able to drop some postcards into what I believe was an official U.S. postage collection box. I aim to send some more shortly. This is all to say, it's still not too late to share your address and get personal, physical postage. After all, a full mailbox if more sastifying than a couple extra missives in your cyberspace inbox - at least in my opinion.

Email or copy your address into the comments box, and I'll start working on a personalized letter you can treasure for years, potentially worth something if I become famous (or if it happens to be mailed with what proves to be a rare stamp). You wouldn't only be keeping in touch with a friend and giving him proper distraction from TV soap operas, but could be investing in your financial future (or mine as well, if you respond with a letter and you become famous some da [or you post your response with what proves to be a rare stamp]).

Either way, thanks.

I need to go back to my essays.

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From the people that helped make possible the Page Arena debacle and the Wal-Mart arson ring, we now bring you Mother Nature's reply.



In the long run, Wal-Mart still has the higher score, but chalk one more up for nature.

Considering Columbia has the highest number of Wal-Marts per capita (we have three in a very tight packing and there are those in the town who are trying to put together a fourth), this is especially tickling.

Your move Kroenkes. Beware any lightning.

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Now there's a job I wouldn't mind trying out.

The London Zoo has started a "Human exhibit." Taking up space in a former bear enclosure, eight humans (three males and five females) are now spending their days under the watchful eye of those who cruise the zoo's primate walk.

It's an interesting profession when your neighbors are truly of a beastly, furry nature. Questions quickly fill up the mind:

What kind of qualifications would a person need to be accepted as a human, and what do you say to the applicants you turn down?

"Sorry Frank, but you're not really what we're looking for in a specimen. We wanted someone more... what is the word... human." (That's got to do wonders for the self esteem).

Some of the professions listed of the "humans" are "chemist" and "actor/model." That must make for interesting behind bars conversations.

"So what do you think about compounds, huh?" "Can you imagine living under the watchful eye of 'Big Brother' on TV? Anybody?"

At the end of the summer, do you think the "inmates" will list their experience on their resumes? Even more interesting, imagine being a keeper for one of the humans. How easy must your rounds be? After trying to figure out what's giving an alligator a tooth ache, all you have to do is poke your head in and ask 'Are all you humans okay? Great' and move on to the chimpanzees down the row.

When it comes time to look for a better job, would you pass on that piece of work experience on?

"So it says here that you've worked with gibbons, orangutans, chimps, red pandas, ostriches, emus, geese, alligators, gecko lizards, and humans. Humans?" "Yes sir, and they were the most temperamental of the lot, though there was an emu once who gave me a humdinger of a headache."

The exhibit's occupants are allowed to go home in the evenings (which prevents them from going fully feral - as interesting as it could be to those who study such things). I wonder if they ever bump into their so-called "keepers" In envisioning a regular end of the day, I am reminded of the old Warner Brother cartoons where they portrayed predator/prey relations as animals who clocked in everyday, did their thing, and could relate an amicable "Goodnight George," "Goodnight Sam," as they clocked out. I wonder how an end-of-day exchange might be like at the London Zoo

"Goodnight human. Nice fig leaf, by the way." "Goodnight keeper. Could you go easy on the bananas tomorrow? I prefer a light salad."

While this is something that sounds cool to try for a while, I'm not sure if I could hold up against the public scrutiny for the whole summer.

After a while, the hula hoops and balls provided for entertainment would start to get old. Also, I'm sure there are strict rules about NOT responding to any cat calls that come from the unavoidable hecklers - show me a man willing to sit in a bear encampment to promote raised awareness of men and apes and I'll show you a surly teenager willing to throw coke cans and insults at the would-be educators.

Additionally, the dress code leaves something to be desired. I prefer a casual dress, but the work "uniform" of cloth "fig leaves" draped on over swim suits rivals the inadvertent idiocy of drive-in restaurants that still require workers to wear roller skates (or at least you hope it's inadvertent idiocy, for otherwise it is quite deranged and cruel).

Of course, if one were to design a truly "natural habitat of the homo sapiens," having people "go native" amongst swimming pools and climbing ropes wouldn't be my choice.

I'd have a big-screen TV with satellite hook up at the center of my exhibit (as such accoutrements are in most homes). A computer with internet access would be located on the side. Couches and lounge chairs would be situated around the previously mentioned focal point of the room. A large refrigerator unit, while not necessary located in the midst of the enclosure, would be situated close by. A bookcase, while once taking up a featured place in earlier human households, would be replaced by a video game system or systems would also be featured, along with various movie and music playing accessories. The whole place would be air conditioned - and if I had my wish, an intricate squirt gun system would be remotely rigged to properly deal with any naysayers and smart mouths.

"Hey humans, haven't you seen Castaway? That's not Tom Hanks carved out an existence? Hey Dilbert! I'm talking to you! And furthermore...

SQUIRT!
"HEY!"
CLICK!

Did I not mention the video/photography equipment to record the incredulous looks at the punks are shocked by the impact of the "SupperSoakker 10 Million" (or whatever number they're up to now)? That would definitely be a part of my idealized natural habitat, as would additional jumbo monitors – situated near the exit of the exhibit – to further shame the now soggy delinquents on their way out.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go back to my smaller, less public, human cage… where I reside for no money… Maybe I should give the London Zoo a call.

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If one finds themselves muttering "outclassed by my own brilliance," one should either think of reviewing their definition of the word "brilliance" or look in a mirror for a clearer picture of the person truly at fault.

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My timing has been a bit off today.

It's technically not altering a routine if the behavior changed has not had a chance to repeated, but on my second pedestrian trip to the library, I tried something different.

My sister wanted to go to the library, but was not as keen as me to make the cross-city trek to cover the distance between my parent's apartment and the main branch of the Missouri River Regional Library, which is approximately 2 and a half miles.

Note: This calculation was derived in the 8 seconds I spent scanning over a city map my mother gave me and by the fact it takes me 40 minutes, on average, to cross the distance. I walk a mile about every 15 minutes, and once you throw in other obstacles like stop lights, sharp ups and downs [especially on the aptly named, High Street] and the twisting contours associated with a downtown built parallel the winding riverfront, it's 2.5 miles. Trust me.

Anyway, without discussing this with anybody who had a vehicle (for both my parents were out), we conspired that I would set out a bit later than usual ("Usual" as used in the previous sentence, means "as opposed to yesterday when I left around noon and got back before the evening news"), dawdle as best I could between the books, get my two maximum hours on the internet, and then wait for a ride that would come around six, maybe seven.

While I still don't know if this plan is doomed to fail (for my expected ride is still a few hours away), I do know I waited just long enough to reach the computer lab for school to be out and the terminals to be filled... as well as a lengthy waiting list for the computers.

Clever.

I muttered the lament that graced the top of the post, quickly followed by the retort that accompanied the original. It was more dimness than brilliance that led to my stumbling. Still, thanks to the books I'd pulled during my previous turn in the stacks, I had plenty of reading material to turn to. It also appears I had a better sense of patience than those who came before me, for as long as it took for me to scribble down the start of this post, nearly a half dozen names were read off without response, and I was issued a computer terminal - unchallenged, with only minimal delay.

If "all's well that ends well," maybe I should finally forgive director James Cameron for Titanic, for, after all, Jack's still dead at the end of the whole debacle.

And now, even as I begin to feel sharp twangs of the remaining die-hard Titanic fans everywhere (you know who you are), begin to mentally attack me, I realize the opposite is true as well.

Alls bad that ends with swift and unrelenting psychic attacks.

Final moral: should have ended this post four paragraphs earlier.

As I said earlier, my timing's been off today.

Lesson learned. Ouch.

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Ever get a smarmy letter and couldn’t fight the urge to reply in turn?

I thought I’d include the following e-mail as a proper example of the previously mentioned phenomenon, to demonstrate my point. Also, I considering that I only get to use the internet at two hours a pop at the public library, this is a not-so-naked attempt to get the maximum mileage out of my scribblings.

“Selection taken from the closing of an e-mail:”

I'm quite sure that I will see you again in this lifetime … so I will not say farewell. Until we meet again - you can always call/e-mail me!

xoxoxoxo (just because you'd find that inappropriate)
- Note: Name deleted to protect the flippant


Dear Flippant,

Quick question:

How is "xoxoxoxo" inappropriate? Is this new short hand for some sort of inappropriate act I am not familiar with?

As you might expect, "xoxoxoxo" does remind me of an anecdote...

Back in high school, there was a day when the family car was tied up and I was forced to revert to the public school bus to get home.

Out of habit, I sat in the middle of the bus (since I'd never had enough verve to fight for the back-of-the-bus seat, and those three-foot-tall and under are the ones who sit in the front). I had the pleasure of watching two kids try to decipher a love note.

At most, the kids were in fourth grade, though I'd peg them closer to second or third based on the questions they asked. One had received a card from a girl and his friend was translating it for him.

I believe I had to work very hard to keep from snickering too loudly as they tried to probe the depth of the feminine mind. The best part was when they came to the post script:

"Oh... It says 'Xs and Os' at the end."

"What does that mean?"

"It means hugs and kisses."

"Oh my God!"

My stop was fast approaching, and I felt this was a good time to give the two kids a valuable lesson.
I leaned forward and said, “Enjoy it now, kids. It only gets harder from here on out," and I got off the bus.

I wished someone would have approached me at the age of 9, 10 and told me how things were only going to get much more complicated as time went on when it came to relationships. I'm sure they didn't understand it at the time, but I sometimes wonder if those two kids ever looked back and gave thanks for the sage words that stranger gave to them a long time ago.

Or maybe they totally forgot, the thankless wretches...

- Caleb

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If this is too cheesy to keep up, let me know and I'll discontinue the practice. If you think this re-telling was noteworthy, and think others may appreciate it, let me know.

It's human nature to repeat a joke in front of others absent from the first telling in the hopes of replicating laughs (or possibly improving upon the timing, making one look sharper and more witty). I'm simply doing the same practice in a smaller space, so I must admit the joke is, as my flippant friend put it, "lather, rinsed, and repeated."

I'm not the only one that does this... right?

I'd better go now...

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Okay. I made an elementary blunder.

I started a story assuming that the majority of the audience knew where I was coming from, leaving me free to dispatch with the introduction and launch right into the action (or subsequent inaction that has largely been my Jefferson City experience).

Some of you have kept up with me, but for those of you have missed a bit (be it weeks or years), here's where I think I'm at.

Okay, I'm currently 23 having concluded my undergraduate classes at the University of Missouri - Columbia. Despite my poor sleeping and eating habits, and a propensity to start major projects within 12 hours of them being due (Mom, Dad, and concerned readers who may or may not be taking heart medicine: Don't ask how much time I spent on my final thesis for my English senior capstone class. The amount will only cause you needless trouble and I seemed to have earned an A in the class regardless of the hours I did or did not spend composing it), I graduated with two degrees: A bachelor's degree in English and journalism. I seem to have pulled out some honors in the process as well.

I applied and was turned down for fall entry into the journalism school's master program. I took classes over the summer (in addition to some volunteer shifts) at the Columbia Missourian (the working lab where MU students comprise 95 percent of the workforce at the community paper) with the intent to pick up some prerequisites I'd been missing and build my confidence concerning certain areas of expertise. I have been concentrating on copyediting and newspaper design over reporting since I discovered I liked working with other people's words and that the nutty, screwball items I usually prefer to churn out don't mix well with the responsibilities of a daily reporter. I am in the midst of reapplying to the graduate program for the Winter/Spring semester, though I am also looking for a temporary to mid-term job (depending on how applications turn out).

Church wise, I am coming off a long binge at Praise Assembly of God church in Columbia (with semi-regular sojourns back to Faith Assembly of God in Sullivan). In college I was very active with Royal Rangers, the Christian camping group I've long worked in, as well as their youth program and children's church. I miss both churches a lot already, and look forward to when I can visit them again.

Professionally, as earlier noted, I am jobless. I am open to any job hints or tips I could get. I'd prefer to get a new-orientated job, preferably having to do with the copy desk, though I'd be open to reporting just to fill out my resume and save myself from going stir crazy. I continue to write a lot on the side, some of it even appearing on this site. I have several series of short stories in various degrees of uncompletedness. I also have a working version of a quasi-devotional book, a collection of some of the peculiar lessons I've learned and re-learned along the way.

Concerning the future... I've got many impossible dreams and I'm trying to work out which ones are real. I'd love to work at a newspaper, going to bed knowing tomorrow’s headlines, as well as getting a boost in cash flow from my writings on the side.

Currently caught in limbo between my old Sullivan house (currently under severe renovations and steadily emptying of all recognizable mementos and appliances) and wherever I'm heading next, I don't know where I'm going. That doesn't make me much different from the next person down the line, though I think my limbo is a bit more pronounced.

I'm working hard not to get depressed. I have plenty of time to read (too much, in fact. I try to keep pacing myself concerning the other things I need to do; though it's hard since I'm connected to a decent, overflowing public library for a change). I have a lot of good music and videos download on my computer, which I occasionally reassemble in the middle of the living room floor before putting the parts back into their respective packing containers. I also have a boost in DVDs - and am trying to work my wave through various first seasons (of the Cosby Show, Quantum Leap, and the Muppet show) as slowly as possible to stretch out the fun).

I also haven't spent this much time with my immediate family in years, and that's mostly good (though as my Dad observes, we can't all fit on the same couch).

I am optimistic, if not a bit idled from so much time spent indoors. If grad school turns me down again, I'm sure I can get a job and find a new good church. I also hope to turn some of the crazy musings poking around my brain into something a bit more physical.

That's about it for now. Keep reading and see how things turn out.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled blog, already in progress...

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Dear All,

This is Caleb again, popping out of the rabbit hole with another short series of updates... and by series I probably mean two (maybe three). I have many more taking up space on the notebook on my lap, but since my time at the library is very limited, I don't think I'll have time to crank out many more.

So, I am now issuing this notice to make up for the lack of quantity in my updates (for those of you holding out for an increase in the quality, I wouldn't start holding your breath any time soon... or better yet. Start holding your breath; I dare you! I'd serve you right):

For those of you wanting to have a more regular fix of suspect ranting, or an increase in mail that is not directly connected to offers of 500 extra hours of free internet *************************, we now announce the "He's going postal" offer.

Yes, if you send Caleb your current address (either through e-mail, posting at the bottom, spirit channeling, passener pigeon, or other methods of your choice, you can get, guaranteed, a genuine missive from Caleb in return.

This is a way to challenge me to write more, keep in touch with an old friend (or fiend, your call), fill your mailbox with extra, ego-inflating happiness, and spur on the American economy one postage stamp at at time.

Brought to you by, the U.S. Postal Service. "It's been a while since we last raised the cost of stamps. Better catch the wave before we decide to do it again."

Offer not voice in Nicaraguea or Pourt au Prince, because I can't seem to spell them correctly, and I believe the odds of people receiving their mail would suffer.

Thanks for playing and I hope to hear from you all soon.

************************* - Not really, but there's enough small print here that our lawyers promise us you couldn't prove otherwise in a court of law.

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Welcome those of you involved in the second annual "Caleb contacts every worthwild person he can think of to let them know he's still breathing" spamming. It's up to you to consider this to be an honor or reason to purchase more powerful spam blockers.

The current situation, as the writer sees it:

Apartment living -

It's like being a hotel suite with an abnormal amount of familiar items clogging up the space ("Doesn't that look the the old lamp from the master bedroom? Does this silverware trey look just like the one Mom's had since the 70's? Is it me, or does that TV look exactly like the old one that we exiled to the basement?).

Of course, it doesn't take long for the hazy first impressions to drift away and for the more dreary reality to surface with a kick: - that is the old finicky TV that works better during inclimate whether and mints aren't going to be left on your pillow; which is just as well, since you're camped out on the couch.

Cardboard boxes and overflowing Tupperware storage containers line the walls and choke up the already narrow hallway (if that's the proper word for the short space that connects the single bedroom from the kitchen nook and is bordered by the bathroom on one side and the air conditioning/hot water heater closet on the other).

I'm resisting the urge to make a regular tally of days spent here, for fear that I'd be overly melodramatic about my condition, or even worse, that the total may actually grow truly troublesome.

Truth be told - it's not bad. I've lived in worse housing arrangements. I have more space than my college dorm room - though it's shared by a larger amount of people, and I'm already used to people opening and shutting doors and trouncing around at all times of the day.

It's a house - it's just not a home. We're all looking forward to having more space - and privacy, as soon as things clear up. Pray it comes soon.

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Thank goodness for the free internet access provided to patrons of the Missouri River Regional Library in Jefferson City.

With this connection, I am likely to have slightly more contact with the outside world than previously expected.

I wish I could personally e-mail everyone that has responded to my initial spamming, but at the current moment I lack the time. We'll see what will happen with my next excursion.

To make up for that, in the limited minutes I have left, here is a list of replies to the initial surge of questions I've received?

1) Do you have a job?

A: No. I figure after completing my last Missourian shift, and concluding my final undergraduate academic responsibilities, I have made the official transfer over from full-time student to currently unemployed worker. In the turn-over, I finally can allow myself to think of myself as an alumni, so it isn't all bad?

2) Where are you living at?

A: I am currently taking up couch space in a tiny apartment my parents have rented in Jefferson City. My father received a promotion in his work at the Missouri Department of Conservation which precipitated a move to the capitol. My mother finally snagged a librarian job in the same area and the family is in the midst of packing up the old Sullivan homestead and looking for a new base of opporations. Other than helping to clear out the few boxes and large appliances left in Sullivan, I won't be heading back there any time soon. The apartment is meant to be temporary housing that could be exited as early as next month, though we've been warned we may be house hunting through winter.

3) How can people get in touch?

A: The street address is:

223 Dix Road, Apartment #38,
Jefferson City, Missouri 65109

The phone number is: 573-635-8872. It was only installed the other day, though - like the housing - it was meant to be temporary. We didn't spring for many features - like internet or touch-tone dialing or a comprehensive long-distance plan - so we're warned to use it only limitedly.

4) What's next?

A: Beats me... though I'm frantically trying to figure that out. Life, post-college, is extremely anti-climatic since I did little to no prospect searching. I am in the process of reapplying to the Journalism's graduate program to start in January 2006. I am also looking at what other working engagements I can pick up in the meantime. I have looked at places ranging from Alaskan radio stations to Peace Corps to teaching kids in Korea physical fitness (and strangely enough, most of these vocations have all paid approximately the same).

I don't know. I'm praying and trying to do the best job search I can within my limited means?

5) Have I finally gone over the deep end with my dreams?

A: I'll have to get back to you about that. No one has showed up at my door with a straight jacket yet - though I'm sure it's a matter of time.

6) Seriously? Do you really think you can keep a site going this time?

A: I hope so. I have a lot of stuff I've been mentally composing that I know I need to put to paper (or at least something more physical like a keyboard). I am already starting to go stir crazy by being packed into a tight space with few outlets. I aim to preserve a piece of my sanity (or what I may mistakenly believe to be sanity) by writing. Hopefully, enough will be generated to entertain those who would stop by here - I'm mainly looking at my most regular readers: my grandmothers. I hope you like it.

7) Was Lee Harvey Oswald acting alone or in conjunction with a vasy conspiracy?

A: There were extra shooters in the book depository and on the grassy knoll. Do the math.

8) Did you really lose 140 pounds on the Atkins diet?

A: No comment.

9) Is it time to bring this silly questionaire to and end?

A: Probably. My own attention span seems to have come up short and I wager people have been getting bored since question 6.

10) You don't want to stretch it out a little bit longer to reach 10 questions?

A: No. Wait a minute... Dang.

Take care all.

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No phone, no internet, no cable...

I feel like I'm a belated addition to Gilligan's Island, only without the benefit of a near infinite supply of coconuts and a doctoral degree in with which to apply them.

I will post post information concerning phone numbers, mailing addresses, and other whatnot - as well as internet accessibility - as soon as they develop. Today, having finished my last shift at The Missourian, I am officially unemployed. Time will tell if my late bid for graduate school and/or madcap bids into the real workforce come of consequence.

Pray for me and be fairly sure I am praying for you all in return... I can afford to... I have no phone, internet, or cable.

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