Flaunt the Font

This time I'm writing out of a sense of obligation more than anything else. I figure this thing was set up as a chronicle of my college experience, I might as well chronicle it.

I hate it when I type stupid things like that and then realize that what I've just typed holds no real weight but was just to fill up space. Maybe you know what I mean, or maybe you don't.

I always seem to find myself writing in these periods when I'm about to leave some place. Right now I'm about to leave room A 5-308 for the rest of the year. I'm going home today to start what I can only imagine will be about two weeks of numbness to the world. I will sleep until 11. I will comb through page after page of ebay. I will eat an unhealthy amount of food. All of this will be done and nothing that I actually need to be doing will probably get done at all. This isn't me being a pessimist - it's me being realistic. I've been doing this for 15 years now, I kind of have a knack for the prediction.

In the midst of all of that, however, there are still some things that I hope to get done fairly soon. I want to test out my recorder that I bought back in August and, well, actually record something. No one will probably ever hear what is recorded and that is fine with me. I will practice guitar and FINALLY GET PAST LESSON 7. Dang it! I really want to do that. I also want to send out some Christmas cards and visit a few choice friends - I hope that goes well.

Looking back on this semester, it's been pretty fun. I've made lots of new friends and finally lifted fully from the funk that set in on me a year ago. There are plenty of new people that I'm excited to be hanging out with - and pipe smoking and tea drinking (good grief, how have I not written a post on tea drinking?) I also have that final spring semester that's looking like it shaped up quite nicely. I have a senior seminar in both film and English to fill out my requirements for each major, a final literature class, a random garbage class to get the 124 hours needed for graduation and finally, an internship which is needed for my professional writing certification (yes, the person who writes the garbage you are now reading is being certified by an accredited university as a professional writer). That's pretty exciting because through a crazy turn of events I got hooked up with a really cool writer who lives here in Wilmington and, long story short, I think I'll be able to put GQ as an internship on my resume. I'm sure I'll have a lot to write about concerning my time working under Mr. John Sullivan next year.

Now it's 3:40 and I have ten tons of stuff to pack and a shower to take before I can leave.

I want a lawn tractor and a field of spam asap. Who's ready for canned shavings?

One of Those Vases Filled With Dead Sticks

Tis the season

Exam season, that is. This is my second to last time (possibly ever) having an exam season and so I don't know quite what to think at this point. Do I cherish every moment of the sweaty 5-hour long library sessions, writing page after page of sub-par material that will somehow still get a B+, or do I dread it as per usual? Whatever the answer, one this is for absolute certain. Tried and true, time and again, and this time is no exception - I'm sick for exams! This time it's just a head cold and hopefully it'll go away before I get to the weekend (where writing will start to get heavy) but I realized that in my 4 years I've developed a knack for dealing with "the sickness." In light of this, I've decided to provide, below, a volume that is sure to be cherished for years to come. Presenting:

Uncle Nathan's Book of Home/Dorm Remedies for the Physically Agitated - and Soul.

There are just some samples, the full book will be published later.*

Cold Sores
Take a razor blade and shave of a very tiny amount of paint from your dorm's cinderblock walls. Buy a can of dip and mix the paint into a pinch and apply it directly to the cold sore. Fix it in place with a bandage. The latex in the paint reacts with the tobacco to produce something good that is then absorbed directly into the sore. The sore will begin to go away in 7-14 days.

Bad Roommates
For this one you'll need a bagpipe (note: you don't have to know how to play it well) and be willing to use the produce drawer of your fridge as a urinal. Need I say more? They'll get a room transfer.

Animal Control
For the usual infestation of roaches, a quick call to housing maintenance will do the trick - in about two weeks when they finally come to dust the place. For more exotic pests, such as the locust or a charging rhino, see section on flame thrower.

Feel Better
Did you get an F on the Spanish test? Did your boyfriend break up with you again? Maybe the rancid smell of your own feet just has you feeling less than confident. Here is a trick that works instantly for lifting the spirits. 1)Buy a gift of $99.00 or more. 2) Give it to me.

For more on my book or information where to send me presents (Christmas or mood-lifting varaity) please send me an email. I'd be happy to pass that information along.

Literacy is weo aivh ienl ij anoiwe mmeahu. ?

Sometimes, Violence is the Answer

Every so-often I make an attempt at becoming more intellectual (or at least appearing more intellectual). These experiments usually end with me drooling in an open newspaper or hurting myself with some 19th century accessory that I don't know how to use. The lastest thing is a "gentleman's book club" that some friends and I have started up. We're going to read about a book a month and choose books that are of lasting significance to us in some way. We get together once a week to talk about what we get from them and act smart. The first book on the list: Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. From what I understand this is about some old woman's children taking their mother's body some place far away to bury her.

From the get-go I have concerns that I won't be able to pull through this. The premise doesn't exactly sound thrilling. Tomorrow I'll be heading to the library to check out a copy since I'm too cheap to buy it. Imagine that! Someone using a library for it's intended purpose, recreational reading!

Other than that it's business as usual for me. I still have to find an internship for next semester (SOON!) and get some schedule stuff straightened out. I'm starting to feel the heat of the big "post graduation" question and I still don't have an answer. I still have faith that God will provide but any prayer on the subject is always appreciated. I assure you, I'm putting thought into it.

Do you think a wolf would eat beefaroni?

If it's Going to Have a Wok, I'm Pretty Sure it Should be a Golden One

November Weighs More…

I have a twenty-minute walk to class from the front door of building five in the Seahawk Landing. I’m not sure but I think it’s right at a mile long. All of my classes, save one, are located in a little building that’s begging for renovation called Morton Hall. The classrooms in this building are designed to be the educational equivalent of the clown car. While watching Dr. Laudadio try to pace around the front of the room without running into desks and/or trashcans provides a reasonable amount of amusement, I find the cramped quarters to be quite annoying.

- Of course, this is neither here nor there.

I was walking to class this morning and it was knocking on 50 degrees with a strong wind and all I had on was a thin t-shirt and a UNCW hoodie.* It created one of those sensations that I’m sure we’re all familiar with and most of us probably hate. The wind would constantly pierce through my sweatshirt making my arms intensely cold, but at the same time the heat of my body made me feel all, warm. I do not approve of this feeling.

- But what are you going to do?


I had yet another English class this morning. It was a pretty decent class, my “Reading and Writing Arguments” with Donald Bushman. All we did was peer review. I forgot to bring my draft. Sigh. I did, in spite of this, provide one of the best peer reviews I’ve ever done for a classmate of mine named Ian. His paper was only marginally interesting, but that’s probably just because I’m not a big baseball fan.

While I don’t have any real issues with my writing classes, I feel it’s high time that I document my sentiment toward the literature classes that I’ve been involved with so far.

They’re garbage.

Now, it’s probably important that I clarify so that I don’t sound like a judgmental idiot that just doesn’t like to do his work. Quite the contrary, I don’t mind the work. I mean, sure there is a ton of reading and some hefty papers that have to be written, but I don’t mind that – I kind of signed up for it. What gets me about these classes it that they’re so speculative and so little of the discussion that we have is grounded in things that we might actually be able to retain or are of any importance. A typical discussion, ESPECIALLY IN POETRY, usually starts with a reading of the work or quick recap, followed by what I can only imagine must be an imaginary flag wave to signal the start of off-topic or ridiculous comments – which fill the entire class period with seemingly pointless discussion. There is a kid that sits next to me in one class that really gets my goat. He spends about 5 minutes just trying to spit his comment out because he’s forming his thoughts as he’s speaking them. As you might expect, this leads, more often than not, to a vastly unsatisfying conclusion and I’m left, once again, considering what useful functions my brain could have been working on during that time.

The other day I thought of something that made me laugh out loud in the middle of all of it. I’m pretty sure that at almost any point in class I could pose the following question and a significant amount of conversation would flow in direct response to it:
“How do you think this {piece, section, point, line, etc.} relates to John Stamos?”

I can hear them now…

“Well, that’s an interesting point. John Stamos’ career has been experiencing a recent revitalization of sorts and we kind of see that also in line 13 where Hughes kind of references his own return to the spotlight after the initial fire sparked in the Harlem Renaissance had kind of faded.“

“I think if John Stamos were here right now, he’d really have something to say about the Greek allusions made in this poem. I’m pretty sure that his heritage as a Greek would give him a little more insight into the life of the classic philosophers that so inspired the imagists of the 19teens and 20s.”

“Contemporary literature could conceivably owe a lot to John Stamos. I mean, it’s not something that we jump to initially, but we obviously count Pop Culture as an extension of the social text of the day. When we watch Full House we’re seeing the recorded culture of that time period and so part of our understanding of that period, even if it’s just a small part, we owe to John Stamos.”

If my professor asked what I thought, I’d do exactly what I always do. Smile and say:

Oh, I agree completely.



*My UNCW hooded sweatshirt was won by my roommate, Bryan and since he has a million such sweatshirts, he gave it to me. While I’m very grateful for this gift, a $35 value, I can’t help but be kind of bothered by the sheer number of people, (especially girls) which I pass every day that are wearing the exact same hoodie. I’m a loser.

And so passes my 300th post, with little fanfare.

Jimmy Eat Show

Hey guys,
This is a concert review that I wrote for my music blog (mog) and just copy and pasted it over. If if seems a little less WilmingSloanian, thats why.

.....

So here's the update. For said update, let us flash back to an age when Nathan was quite a different chap. In 2001 I had no idea what good music was. I was a freshman in high school and the only CDs I had purchased at the time were the Star Wars soundtrack and Smash Mouth's 'Astro Lounge.' I'm almost ashamed to put that in print. Well, along came my sister, 6 years older than me, who had been introduced to a band from Arizona that had just released a new album, then called Bleed American (Shortly after it's release, 9.11 happened and they changed it to 'self titled,' it has since been changed back to 'Bleed American). The band was Jimmy Eat World, and though she rocked out to their newest work in her car constantly, for Christmas that year she gave me the album that she considered their best stuff, 1999's 'Clarity.' I was hooked.

From that moment forward I consider Jimmy Eat World to be the band that introduced me to the type of music I love today. Everything I listened to for a while was cast through a Jimmy Eat World (and specifically 'Clarity') colored lens. I have nearly worn my copy of that album out now and I bought all subsequent EPs and Albums by them, except for Bleed American. For all the love I had of Jimmy, I still had a huge hole in my musical life for them that lasted through last night. That hole was having never seen them live.

It wasn't for lack of trying. I'd check their website often, but the west coast band rarely made it to the east and if they did it was almost never in little North Carolina. The tv show "One Tree Hill" is filmed in Wilmington, where I go to school, and I found out a week after the fact that Jimmy came down to shoot an episode and college students were paid $100 to sit and watch as extras. Some of my friends made it in but, of course, I didn't get the memo in time. A year later I'd find out too late that they were on tour with the much less impressive Green Day and on their way to Raleigh. I recently found out the Jimmy Eat World's opening set consisted of three songs. If I had gone for them and gotten that, I'd have been more than slightly upset. Then, magically, this week my roommate is telling me that their latest album "Chase This Light" had just come out on the 16th. He checked their site and sure enough, Jimmy was making two nearby stops, this time as the headliner. One in Myrtle Beach at the House of Blues and one in Raleigh at Disco Rodeo. My heart rose, and then fell. I spent all of my money last weekend at Busch Gardens; there was no way I could afford to see them.

Or was there?

I remembered my giant tin-o-change that I had been saving for who knows how long. I took it to the bank and magically, $40 popped out. I was in the game and ready to go! I bought my tickets for House of Blues and waited for Saturday night to arrive.

First thing is first, they put on an awesome show but I have learned my lesson about going to a show without ear protection for the last time. PLEASE, remember to bring earplugs when you go to loud rock shows. It saves your ears and, honestly, you can hear the music a lot better.

Other than the occasional ear bleed, I couldn't be happier with the show. Viva Noche opened up and they were decent, but I could have dealt with about 2 or three fewer songs from them (they played about 8). We were situated on the floor by the front steps on the left side of the stage and had a great view. No lumbering 8 foot tall scene kid intermittently obscuring my vision and making out with his girlfriend this time. I went with a few friends and we had a blast. They played a good mix of old and new and finished it out with a bang - saving Sweetness, The Middle, and Hear You Me among others for their encore set. Incredibly high-energy, it's rare for me to want to jump around like the teenyboppers at a show but when everyone was screaming "Oh oh oh ohhhh oh!" during Sweetness, you couldn't help but want to. The band was not too talkative, but they were friendly enough. I noticed that they used my same orange Dunlop picks, which is just one of those details that makes a live performance so worth it. Fun little details and chatter aside, though, these guys really know how to rock and it's hard to see how the band known by many to be the kings of "emo" have anything to do with the sappy genre that they helped create. Best straightforward rock concert I've been to in a long time - maybe ever. If you get the chance, take it.

Picking Things Up and Moving to New Zeland

To be a "writer" I sure don't act like I enjoy writing very much. Oh well.

It's October and around this time of the year spooky things start popping up. This summer some of the Caswell folks and I did some ghost hunting. This is little more than walking around a "haunted" site with a recorder in hand asking dumb questions to the wall. We'd say things like "What's your name?" and "If you can here us, punch Zack." Of course, we were shamlessly ripping off the TV show "Ghost Hunters," as countless high school sophomores have done before us. Funny thing is, though - when you're asking those questions you don't really think about the alternative to dead silence that you almost always get. Either 1) you hear something fall or rattle or someone else in your group makes noise and is scares the monkey out of you or 2) a being from another plane responds. In the case of #2 I think I would find myself quickly regretting the venture to hunt the ghost and flee the building, most likely with arms flailing wildly in the air.

The moral of the story...don't hunt ghosts unless you want to find them.

Now, a deeper topic (but related). Are ghosts real? I really don't know. I don't believe that ghost, as we like to classically think of them, are real. There is something really romantic about the notion of ghosts, though. Poor lost souls, left to wander the Earth - maybe their heart was broken beyond repair, maybe they were killed and left unavenged, or maybe they just don't know thier dead. The whole idea of ghosts is just really cool to me but I can't bring myself to believe that God would let that happen.
So if they're not ghosts, what are they? The Bible warns against calling on the spirits of the dead, commands against it actually. It also speaks of "unclean spirits." Could it be that these spirits are demons? If so, why would they want to talk to or otherwise mess with us humans? I think that 90% of all ghostly happenings are either made up or misinterrpretations of naturally occuring phenomana. But even with all of that, there is still a good amount of legit, werid crap going on. There are just too many well documented cases to ignore that we're alone on the Earth. Something else is out there.
As a Christian, I currently believe that the voices we hear on tape recordings, the spectres that float through walls and the entities that push around Ouija planchetts are all demons or "unclean" spirits who are out to pull in victims. Such supernatural interests as "ghost hunting" only serve to distract people from the truth of God and people who are unprepaired in their spiritual life can find themselves quickly enticed by the powers of these spirits. The things they can do and the predictions they can make lead people to a series of false conceptions which can easily lead to a fallen life or set of beliefs. Satan's goal is to take down as many of us with him as possible, so that just seems logical to me.

As for everyone out there who thinks I'm really certafiably crazy at this point - more power to you! I'm not saying that I believe any of this happens, necessarily, and certainly not from first-hand experience. Part of me wishes that I could say that I've seen evidence of the paranormal, but the other (much larger) part is quite content to sit on my bed and play Halo 3 while eating Cheetos, instead.

I wonder if teargas has a smell or if it just burns really bad. Wouldn't it be ironic if it smelled really good?

Teargas. I like the sound of that.

I looked at the old calendar and decided it was high time for another post on this rickety old blog. But what to write about.....?

The other day Scooby Doo was on tv and I came to an amazing realization. I want to live in a Scooby Doo haunted mansion. They are probably the coolest houses I've ever seen in my life. Passageways and trick artwork are everywhere and it's like the owner planned it all from the beginning just to trick those stinkin' kids.

Well, I'm going to find an architect that can design my dream home and here are some of the key features if you're ever lucky enough to make it there.

-An underground passageway from the old well outside to the wine cellar under the house (fully stocked with dusty, unlabeled bottles)
-A hallway with the same table and vase repeated three times down it's length.
-A secret hallway behind an actual one **Key** with a step up and sliding piece of wood so that I can look through the eye holes of a portrait in the actual hall.
-A greenhouse out back where I keep some old machine under a tarp.
-A library with an observatory upstairs, and a bookshelf downstairs that mysteriously opens itself up when you pull out the obviously lighter colored book.
-A zip line (invisible by day) from the attic window to a tree (with a tree house) outside so that I can dress up like a specter and zip down at night.

That ought to scare them off. So, as you can see, my house will be the most awesome house ever. Maybe I'll only charge admission for the first 3 years to make back my money.

Is anyone else craving a Zeasar Zalad?

Sam 'n Ella

One of the joys of apartment life that I get is the opportunity to walk to class with my roommates at least a couple of times a week. The other day I was walking with Jeremy Bryan Boitnott and, as always, stimulating conversation followed.

"So, the Colossal Squid is bigger than the Giant Squid?" I asked.

"Yes," Bryan said, "We used to think that the Giant Squid was the biggest, but we recently found the Colossal Squid species, which is much larger. It's eye is the size of your head."

"So are those deep sea fish?"

"Oh yes, very deep sea. That's why it's so hard to find them. We finally captured a live Giant Squid a couple of years ago."

"Cool! So, is it in a tank or something?"

"No, it died."

"Oh"

"But if we capture a Colossal Squid - that would be amazing."

"So, you plan on concentrating in Squid or something with your Marine Biology major."

"No, I will concentrate in Jellyfish," he said.

"Jellyfish?" I ask.

"Yep." he says.

What are you going to do with a concentration in Jellyfish?"

"Ummmm, Study them," he answered, "I just like Jellyfish."

And so there you have it. A little insight into my life...

Articles of Onions

I love my new apartment. THE LANDING!

I finally got everything packed into my new apartment and when I look at it now all I can think about is how sweet it is. And subsequently how many years into the future I'll be paying for it. UNCW gets a facelift every time I return from summer break and this year is no exception. Where once a mighty wood was, now my bricky apartment complex is. We even have little places of business built-in to our buildings. My building has a coffee shop (talk about struggling with temptation) and there is also a marketplace, post office, and fitness center. I was a little disappointed to learn of the absence of a spaceport and a nuclear processing facility, but apparently those were pulled due to "safety hazards" or some garbage like that.
My roommates are Jeff and Bryan. I have two Bryans in my phone so I have to remember he is the one with the y and not the ian. Jeff is my unofficial style consultant because he knows what is becoming and what isn't. Yesterday we baked cookies for our entire hall, decorated them horrifically, and delivered them (because we're old school). Some of my favorite designs were Brian's boat/dolphin, Jeff's jellyfish, and my state of Colorado.

Today is the day of the annual Beach Blast. This is UNCW's attempt at making the freshmen feel more at home and at making the upperclassmen happy with free pizza. Last year it was canceled and this year Tommy is threatening to drag me out there against my will to fraternize with Caswell folk. I'm not sure if I can handle a packed beach on a projected 99 degree day. That's like...hotter than my mouth. Who wants to hang out in that? Tomorrow classes start and I assume that my normal drone-like behavior will be restored as I learn to walk the same path to classes every day. I'm taking ten-TONS of English because I only need 2 more classes in film to graduate with that major. It's really cool that I'm still able to graduate in May but at the same time it's a little nerve-wracking to have so little room for mess-ups. Next year I don't know where I'll be. Perhaps I'll be standing on the deck of a Chinese freight ship, letting the wind whip my hair while watching the sun retreat on an infinite horizon.

Or maybe I'll work at the sketch zoo down the road and eat Doritos every day. Meh, who knows!?

At the Ready

So, a couple of days ago I was standing on top of a historic fortress firing potatoes from a PVC cannon toward the ocean when it hit me. In less than a week I'll be leaving Caswell. After last summer, I really didn't know if I'd ever come back to the grounds that have - over the past six summers - literally and spiritually become home to me. It was a strange feeling, and this year it's even stranger because I know the chances of a return stay are even less plausible. In 2002 I rededicated my life to Christ here on the biggest spiritual high that I've ever had. In 2003 I grew up, learning what it was like to live away from home as a 17 year old. In 2004 I grew the confidence I needed socially and the strength I needed spiritually before heading into College. In 2005 I made some of the closest friends I've ever had. In 2006 I felt, with intensity, that God has bigger plans for my life than to settle. This year, I don't know what I've gained yet - I just fear I'll be loosing something amazing. A place where God is able to move through the people that so openly love him - where things aren't perfect, but enough of them are. I've laughed here, cried here, felt like the king of the world and the bottom of the barrel. I've cleaned over 60,000 sets of dinnerware, plunged more toilets than I care to remember, run lights for big bands and small bands. I've watched amazing speakers, eaten dinner with famous musicians, and learned the disinfecting value of bleach water. More than anything - I have worshipped God. In solitude on grassy hill and in unison with 70-some voices lifted to the sky on top of Vespers Fort. In my one summer as a camper and five as a staffer, I've experienced God's amazing love firsthand. For the rest of my life, no matter where He leads me, I'll never forget the place where he built me up and prepared my heart for the hardship and happiness of life in humble service to Him. I take great comfort in knowing that God is everywhere and life goes on with His calling, but this place will always stand out. I may leave, but Caswell leaves with me.

TAN hammah

If you're reading this, I just want you to know that I love you.

No, I'm not going to give the standard canned answer for why. "God has charged me to love all people." No, no - my reason is much more shallow than that. I just love you because you're one of the few people that's actually checked my blog. Over the past three years I've slowly stopped posting as often, and the post I do manage are, well, how do I put this gently so as not to harm my own ego...
well...they suck.

Some day I'm quite sure that I'll come back and look at what I've written going into my last year of college and every word of it will be something special that I'll use to ponder over the meaning of life in general. Well, ok, that's a stretch, but when I get to this point in the story of WilmingSloan, it's going to get a bit dry.

In response to the dryness of this recent blogging, I have decided to make up a story of relative excitement and relay it on here. If you're incredibly bored, you can pretend this really happened to me.

--

So the other day I was walking in downtown Wilmington (I get breaks from Caswell occasionally) and this ond man is sitting outside a cigar shop on Front Street. I was with a buddy of mine and the old man stops us both. He tells us that the store is closing down and they need to sell the rest of their stock. I tell him politely that I don't smoke but he just won't listen. Then he starts babbling about the Humo Uno. Finally, after calming him down, we get a solid explanation.

The Humo Uno is a mythical cigar, rolled by the very hand of Cuban Communism, Fidel Castro. He took lessons the early 70s and rolled 20 cigars. Of the 20, only one was deemed smoke-worthy, but no one had the...bolas...to smoke it, including Castro himself. It is said that the night it was rolled, a butler in Castro's palace who was a witch-doctor, cursed the cigar behind his master's back. Fidel had him killed, but kept the cigar in a safe, he was too scared to have it burned or destroyed in any way.

One day, Fidel was moving all of his valuables from safe to safe and they discovered that the Humo Uno was unaccounted for. Considering that the other priceless valuables Castro kept were left in place, he feared for the worst. Someone would use the Cigar and the curse would be let free on him.

28 years went by and no one heard anything about the Humo Uno. Slowly, it became a mere legend, only whispered about in hallways for fear of upsetting Castro. Finally, all people considered it lost.

Back to the old man. He was babbling the history of this cigar and finally he got to the point.

"My HOUSE!" he said, "They're going to take my house, I can't afford to keep this shop....I can't afford to keep - it any more. Please! Buy something, I'm desparate...I'll even sell you Humo Uno for...for...$20!"

Sensing the old man's knack for spinning a good yarn we snorted a little and turned away from him again.

"PLEASE! WAIT!" he said, "$5.00, I am making a mistake but I must do this!"

My friend and I looked at each other. 5 dollars seemed like a paltry price for a good laugh, and I considered it a worthy tip for such a good story, likely made up on the spot.

"All right," I said, "we'll take it."

He led us into the dark and dusty shop, through shelves of ancient carved mahogany and into a beautifully ornate glassed-in humidor room. To our surprise, he didn't slow down. When he reached the back corner he lifted a cigar box and pulled a lever hidden behind it. The back wall opened up and a staircase led down into a cellar as old as Front Street itself. He led. We followed. I heard the familiar click of a pull-string light bulb fixture and suddenly the staircase was illuminated. So was the basement. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Crates and crates of ancient cigar gear. It was like the last scene from Raider of the Lost Ark, only with cigar boxes. The old man moved to the back corner to a light green box with a quarter-inch chain and padlock around it. He took out a key and removed the binding. Mumbling something in spanish under his breath, he opened it. We feasted our eyes on the Humo Uno for the first time.

BLACK. Black like the heart of communism was the wrapper. The strong scent of life, death, and tobacco greeted us instantly. My eyes even teared up for a moment. Speechlessly, I paid him with a lincoln and took my prize.

On the way back, we considered not lighting it. It did have an aura about it, maybe the old man was telling the truth? Staring at it made me dizzy. I couldn't think straight. It was as if it wanted to be smoked. In a daze I laughed it off.

"Yeah, right," I said, "The old man puts a new cigar right back in that box every time and waits for another gullible pair to walk by."

I held it up in the orange glow of the setting sun that poured in through the windshield and spun it on my fingertips.

"Let's smoke it."

Back on Oak Island we picked a random beach access to smoke at. The night was freshly fallen as we clamored over the dunes. We tossed our sneakers off, made our way to a driftwood log and had a seat. My buddy pulled out a silver butane lighter that he kept in his glove compartment. We looked at each other, then at the cigar in my trembling hand. I heard the metal and flit strike, then the hiss of the butane gas. I punched out the back with the help of it's blue light. Slowly, I placed the it between my lips and watched as the flame came closer to the end of the Humo Uno. Those couple of seconds seemed to stretch on for hours as I waited for the fire to hit and the slow glowing of the tip to signal that the time had come.

TO BE CONTINUED

Itchy Itchy!

I'm having so much fun it's hard for me to find time to post!!!

So I finally came back to it.

Here is what has happened.

My cousin got married and the ceremony was wonderful. Now I have to edit everything together for her wich should prove interesting. Hopefully I'll get that done soon.

Caswell keeps on rolling. Today marks the halfway point of the summer. WOO HOO!

I got bit by fire ants 17 times. YAAAY

So now you're pretty much caught up. God bless you all!

Extra-Wide Masking Tape Journals

Well it's been a long, long time. For me, anyway.

I about to finish up my second week of guest services work here at Caswell and it looks like it's going to be a good summer. I like the staff and I especially like the guys that I'm working with in the Reception Center. It's been so good to get back to the most beautiful place on Earth and focus on God and what he's done in my life.

If you look through the past years of this blog you'll notice that in the summers my posting count drops off dramatically. I have no doubt that this summer will follow suit. It's not that I run out of stuff to talk about in the summer, oh no, quite the contrary. I have so much going on that it would exhaust me to write about it all.

Just so that this post isn't entirely lame I will share one snippet about my summer for my friends outside of Caswell and for my own benefit when I'm old and can't remember these details anymore.

I'm in room 8 with Joey Waters, Jason Webb, Jay Washburn, and David Helms. Because of the way our shifts rotate, one of the guest services guys (which excludes David) will be sleeping in the RC all night. There are only 25 or so guys on staff and a whopping 47 or so girls. We have a LOT of room on the guy’s hall and compared to summers past I feel like I could hold a roller-disco in our room and still have room for a snack table.
...
One can only dream.

I get called in to do all types of stuff in this job, like unlock doors, provide first aid materials, and, of course, plunge those toilets. I got my first toilet call two days ago, oh boy! Well, someone has to do it and knowing that my job does it's little tiny part in keeping the camp running gives me a pretty decent sense of pride. I've experienced first hand the blessings that come out of this camp so it is pretty cool to see the people that are experiencing as I do my job.

Well, that's all for now. I just got a call to relieve the security guard so that he can relieve himself. TOOTLES!

Aquafinale

ORDER!

Back in December I got a lovely letter from the office of the Sheriff of Johnston County informing me that I had to go serve some jury duty. Well, Dad pulled some strings and got me deferred because I had to head back to school. I was deferred to May of this year and my second letter came letting me know that I hadn't gotten off that easily.

I went in expecting to get thrown into the heat of some saucy case of ex-lover vs. ex-lover: a battle for control of the above ground outdoor pool that both of us claim to have exclusivly won from that radio station givaway. Rather than a dramatic dispute over who was responsible for the correct answer of "REO Speedwagon," however, I simply got oathed in and watched a short film about the honor of being a juror.

This film made me pine for a couple of house of QVC or Telemundo in its stead. I'd like to let the director know that incorperating moving camera in almost every shot, does not = profesionally produced film. Rather it equals, wow, I can see how horrid this film is from 45-50 obnoxiously different angles.

It didn't last too long, and I was on my merry way home with instructions to call a number later on that would tell me if I had to come back. What do you know?! I did. The next day I walked into the jury pool room, a windoless box about the size of your high school English classroom. Only, this time, there were about 60 people in there. Fighting for air I took a seat inbetween two older gentlemen that looked strikingly similar. One of them had gray facial hair, the other, obviously colored brown. The man on my right was apparenly not discouraged from missing work as he brought it with him. The room was utterly silent as he powered up his laptop and and went all typety away on a spredsheet. I didn't know people actually used Microsoft Excel. Learn something new every day. The man on my left was reading what appeared to be a political novel by an aspiring Tom Clancy wannabe. What I really remember about him, though, is his heavy mouth-breating through gum chewing. It's a very distinctive sound. When I here it I think of doctors or people like that.

Now, while I'm on the subject of this room I have to go off on a bit of a side rant. What the crap is wrong with cell phone companies? I can think of two main instances when one might want to turn off there cell phone.
1) To save power while recharging.
2) To avoid calling attention to oneself in a quiet setting.
Now, neither of these scenarios calls for the cell phone to spontaniously burst into dramatic fanfare. "BLEEPITY BLEEEEEP BLEEEP BLEEEEEEEEP!" Yet, every time I turn my phone off to avoid being a distraction in a quiet place, I forget that it wants to blast a little salsa or a jazz solo just before powering down. ARGH!

After waiting next to Mr. Excel and Darth Minty for about an hour the baliff came in and led us into the old courtroom in Smithfield. Wow, what a beautiful building. I didn't know Johnston county could have such elegance. I must admit, I was ginuinly looking forward to getting assigned to a case and doing my civic duty, but when the Judge read out the names of the plantiff and defendant, I was in for a surprise. I knew the defendant...oh well. When the plantiff's lawyer asked me if I knew him and I told him, yep, pretty much all my life, I was politly excused from the courtroom. Oh well, can win 'em all I suppose. Good luck person I know that I can't reveal!

And that was my adventure in Jury land. I'm safe for two years but who knows if I get called back. If I had to say one thing that I learned, it's that most trials do not last an afternoon, which is what I thought after watching several episodes of Law and Order.

Today is National Marinate Your Pet Day. DON'T FORGET!!!

Ben Gibbard at Cat's Cradle

I love The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie so when I heard the frontman for both of those bands was doing a solo tour and coming to The Cat's Cradle in Carrboro, NC, I snatched up a ticket quickly.

This is the third time I've seen Ben live (the other two being when he was on tour with Death Cab in 05-06). I walked in and found a spot on the floor. MUCH smaller venue than either of the other two and I'm pretty sure I got closer to the stage than I was at Disco Rodeo. A lot of excitment - and three hours of standing followed.

At times I was left to wonder if Cat's Cradle was actually up to code. If you've ever been there you know what I'm talking about. This is the first venue I've ever seen that is, literally, part of a strip mall. It's situated next to a video rental store at the very end. The big red tour bus took up 3/4 of the parking log. Ok, not really, but it looked very out of place.

The coolest thing about this concert was the interactivity between the artists and the audience. Both times that I saw Death Cab there was a large crowd and no one really said much. This time each artist talked and had little conversations with the audience. Had I said "I like your shirt Ben," he probably would have said "Why, thank you." I didn't speak up but Ben chatted with other audience members, told some funny stories about a guy who had stalked him since he arrived, and paused for a poleroid photo-op between songs. Each of the opening acts was up for about 30 minutes and Ben played for a little over an hour. Everyone was fun, energetic, and in a great mood. Well worth the $22.50 I paid to get in.

Below is a video of his opening song, a cover of some sort that he then used to transition into "Brand New Colony," a Postal Service piece. I love Death Cab but seeing Ben perform 3 Postal Service songs was the highlight for me since he so rarely gets the chance to perform them. I was a fan of Postal Service before I had ever listened to any of his other stuff. In addition to this video I took a short clip from his performance of "Carolina," a song from his solo ep which he said he had never played live before. Pretty obvious why he picked it. I missed this part, but right after the clip finishes he changed the last chorus to "North Carolina waits for me." Woot.

`

Click To Play

I saw Ben Gibbard on his solo tour May 11th at the Cat's Cradle in Carrboro, NC. Finally, I got to hear some postal service songs! Forgive the HORRID sound quality.

Sorry for the crappy sound quality. It's a Kodak still camera.

Tootsie Roll...

I like those little birds that run away from the waves at the ocean. Every time I see them I imagine them saying "CRAP CRAP CRAP, HERE COMES ANOTHER ONE, CRAP CRAP CRAP!!!

It makes me laugh.

I love the Squirrels on this campus, too. They act so parinoid. You'll see a couple playing around a tree and then they'll spot you and stick their heads out from the other side, as if to say, "W..w...what's he doing, Eddie? What's up? Is he, CRAP, he just made eye contact...I think we're screwed, Eddie!"

It makes me laugh.

Semi-Silly Morsels

I'm tired.

Physically my butt is aching like no one's business, something that happened due to bowling the other night (I'm still trying to understand how), but it stems further than that. I'm tired of a lot of things. For instance, I have very little to do the rest of this semester. I woke up at 12:30, shuffled around for four hours, went out with friends, ate dinner, watched a movie, ate again, and then got ready for bed. I could have easily done all of my work and I did none. I'm lazy and I'm sick of it.

Part of me wants to remedy this with something like a skill, or trade. I'm studying Film and English, so why not write about film on this blog? If I think hard enough I'm sure I can amalgamate the nonsensical humor that is at the very core of this blog with some deep, observational commentary on film or life or, better yet, God. Then again, is that really the change I need? I don't think so. I think the change I need is a change that a lot of people need. Right there in front of every 20-something semi-adult is an incredible opportunity to better the world and impact everything around us forever. Making a big impact with your life is really just consistantly making small impacts when you get right down to it. All I have to do is wake up and say, "Im'll do it." I want to do it and I have a God that I think will show me what I should do, no matter how mundane or futile it may seem at the time. I'm going to extend the helping hand to my fellow man, pray continuously, build God's kingdom and give Him the Glory. I'll seize the moment before it's too late, studying everything I need to know and getting experience where I'm lacking. When I wake up I will make a difference - the difference that we all have it within us to make if we would just abandon the comfort of the ordinary and embrace the hardship of the extraordinary. I am going to do it.

Or will I?

I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

The Secret to Good Drug Trafficking

Study is a hard thing. The library is a hard thing. Being done, is an easy thing.

The other day I was in the library when one of my study buddies (doing a great job of avoiding actual work) commented that the proper name for a group of ferrets was a "business of ferrets." I began laughing...then paused. The following story is what followed.

-

20 ferrets are bounding around an upper floor in an almost to scale board room. They all have on little business suits and are tossing around a multi-colored ball. Imagine, if you will, a chirping of glee arising from the group as they play. Suddenly the double door at the back of the room swings open with force and a ferret in a feather-gray suit walks in, standing upright. The other ferrets drop what they are doing and scramble next to their seats.

"Good morning gentleferrets," says the Boss ferret in the gray suit, "I'm keen to get this meeting started. Let us begin."

They all sit down.

"Mr. Boots, if you would, please inform the others of our fiscal standings this quarter," says the boss.

"Certainly sir!" says Mr. Boots, "As you can see, earnings on cedar chips have declined by 5% in the last three months. Also, earnings in rolly balls have gone down ..."

"That'll be enough, Mr. Boots. Please, have a seat."

He takes a hard look around the room. The other ferrets pull at their fur and stare at the table.

"Well, it looks like we're heading in the wrong direction, doesn't it gentleferrets? Mr. Tinker, what is your take on this trend?"

Tinker’s fur stands on end.

"Err, uhh, sir, well, you see sir, err." says Mr. Tinker, his eyes dart around the room - desperately seeking help, 'Err, perhaps, err, we could consolidate shipping expenses, err, uhh, cut some costs in..."

"You have no idea do you, Mr. Tinker?"

"Err, not exactly sir, no, sir, but I'm looking into it and.."

"You're fired Mr. Tinker. If you would please have your office cleared by this afternoon. Thank you," says the boss.

They wait for Mr. Tinker to scurry out of the room, then the boss addresses them again.

"This is a business of FERRETS, for the love of Pete! Let's start TREATING it as such!" he says, "Now, how about you, Mr. Biskitt?"

"Well, sir, to be honest I think the fall is due to the new hypo-allergenic brands of cedar chips now available through our competitors at Hedgehog," says Mr. Biskitt, "Standard cedar is losing revenue to the new stuff at a steady rate of .15% every week. If you ask me, I think we need to reorganize the cedar department and develop a special chemical coating of our own."

"Yes...yes, you're absolutely right, Mr. Biskitt! Why don't all of you take a few notes when Mr. Biskitt is talking, he could teach you a thing or two about thinking on your feet," says the boss, "Mr. Snugglesby, I want you to get a write up of this down to the cedar department by 3 O'clock. This meeting is adjourned!"

-

And so goes another evening at the library.

Danger is a four-letter word - well, probably in some language...

Twenty for a Moment

So this is the last time I will write anything as a 20 year-old. Officially I'm already 21 but I won't actually turn 21 until around lunch, so that's the story I'm going with.

I'm an adult. That really isn't cool (but maybe it is). I remember being in high school and thinking, when I'm 21, that's when I'll really be an adult. I don't feel like an adult any more than I did a year ago. I don't feel like much has changed at all, actually. I guess this is how time sneaks up on you. It's really weird because you hear adults talk about time like it's all sneaky a lot, but now I'm actually starting to understand why. Getting older is generally something that we look forward to, to a point, and then we despise it for the rest of our lives. I don't hate getting older, and I hope that I never do, but it is officially no longer "cool" to get any older. Next year the 18-year-olds will seem like kids...KIDS. Oh well...

In closing I'd just like to say that I've got 21 down and many more that I plan to go through before I'm done here. There isn't a second that I'm not thankful to God for having lived and I know there are some great adventures in store for me yet. With any luck these adventures will entail horseback riding, a mace and a diabolical plot to destroy the world (that I will thwart).

Here's to you, my friends!

If I Had a Hamma and Cheese Sandwich

Interesting developments today.

THIS JUST IN!

Today's UNCW local news-line leaked the following information in a communicade from the Registrar's Office in James Hall:

Junior student, Nathan Sloan of the Seahawk Village apartments made an alteration to his school programming to include a second major - English, with a concentration in professional writing.

We attempted to get comments from his spokesperson but he maintained that Mr. Sloan had no comment. Later in the day, however, one of our reporters was able to track down Mr. Sloan himself and got commentary straight from the source.

"I've been considering this option for a while but it wasn't until I my recent sit-down with the English department chair that I knew for sure that everything would work out for me to do so. I'm incredibly happy to be able to work within the English department in what I hope will be a mutually beneficial relationship."

When asked to comment on whether this would affect his graduation date or reflected a wavering in his commitment to UNCW's film program, Nathan had the following to say:

"In no way would I consider this a wavering in my commitment [to the film department]. Making movies has always been a dream and a deep personal passion of mine that I intend to chase as long as I can. If anything, I feel an intense study of English will only serve to benefit me in future film endeavors. As far as graduation goes, I'm happy to say that I should still graduate in May 2008. The only difference is that now I'll have two major areas of study and a certification in professional writing by the time I walk."

In response to this, stocks have already jumped 45 points and we expect the trend to continue well into the end of the month.

Midday Moon

Today we went to Lowes. I had a conversation with my sister about how I hope adulthood doesn't ever take over in me and she assured me that it would. I then began considering the slow degeneration. I think it would go something like this

Scene
Nathan, at 29 years of age, is walking into a Lowes with his lovely wife (haha). She wants to get some stuff for the house.

Nathan:
Let's hurry up, please.

Vanessa (let's call her that):
Calm down, I won't take too long.

Nathan:
You know how I hate this place...

Vanessa:
And I know how much you love me, right.

Nathan:
You're absolutly right, beautiful wife of mine (grumbles under breath).

Vanessa:
Besides, it's about time you took an interest in making our house look its best.

Nathan:
The day I do that is the day I know it's all over. I refuse to grow-
Oh, that's really pretty edging brick. That would look nice around the driveway in the front...
...oh no, NO.....NOOOOOOOOOO!

Vanessa:
See, I told you it was coming.

Nathan:
Noooooo!!!

Vanessa:
I could see it in your eyes when you were eyeing that bamboo fountain on the way in.

Nathan:
WHY? WHY!? Oh the HUMANITY!!!!

And that's pretty much how I think it would go. Hopefully I'll be smarter than that when the time comes. I still have a few good years left in me. Let's hope I make the best of them.

Oh yeah. Vanessa, if you're out there, I like pumpkin pie. Bake me one and things will probably go smoother for us.

Bad Mood Crabapple

Another Glorious Thursday!

The sunlight streaks through my broke-as-crap venetian blinds (thanks housing) and UNCW's world of white columns and brick is waiting. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm I'm not bringing it anything. I'm going to relax today. True, I just got back from one week of constant relaxation at home but it's nearing the end of the semester and I'm feeling a little extra crispy lazy. Sure, I'll probably write up a couple things for class that I've been putting off, but that's it. I'm going to tinker around with my guitar and possibly do some photo graphing. If it's nice I'll go to the beach and realize that I don't really have anything to do there, then leave about 15 minutes later, like I always do.

I love the beach. No really, I do. I know what you're thinking...

"If you love the beach so much why do you leave after only 15 minutes?"

Hmm, well, that is a valid point. Of course you could always hurl this one at me...

"Nathan, if you love the beach so much, why have you been there less than 30 times in all three of your years at UNCW...the BEACH school?"

To which I say, "Hey, let's not get crazy, hypothetical-audience-questioning person. I tend to get upset when people get an attitude like that."

"Oh," You might say, "I'm sorry but what if that just doesn't frighten me that much."

"Then I think you might need a little lesson or two," I say while picking up a crowbar, "maybe you'll understand pretty soon just how much I do love the beach."

"Woah, woah chill man," You might say while cowering like a pansy, "you crazy ese! Just chill!"

And so, once again I intimidate the hypothetical audience consciousness in my own writing. It feels good to be on top!

I'm really glad our teeth don't keep growing like some animals. (Blessing #449,857,890,345.03)

Sunlight Siesta

The 2ed Baddest ATV
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Everyone needs to try new things...

This weekend was a wondrous one. I went to Kannapolis NC, home of the world famous king of rednecks, Dale Earnhardt. I was there to lead a group of 9th grade boys in Bible study sessions for their youth group revival at Charity Baptist Church. Now, the boys were cool and the weekend was awesome, I think some really good things came from it, but there was some craziness.

One thing that came from it was my first "adventure" on an ATV, or as they are more commonly called, four-wheelers. Growing up in rural NC, I always heard about "faw-weelin" and scoffed my scoffer at it. Such a low brow activity didn't seem like it could possibly offer anything to a sophisticated individual such as myself, so I never tried it. When I was talking to the owner of my host home for the weekend, he told me about how he took trips up to West Virginia just to go though miles and miles of ATV trails. The way he described it made it sound like a magical world of mud and hills where the police merely waved a friendly hello to you as you passed on your ATV and the morning sun brought with it the spirit of gasoline propelled adventure. After his long tale I casually informed him that I had never even been on one. Shock and awe flashed across his eyes.

"You want to try right now?"

We went out to his shed where he kept his family's collection of ATVs and proceeded to crank up what he called "The second baddest ATV he'd ever seen." A non-stock muffler aided in making it the first loudest ATV I'd ever heard. We all just sort of stared at it there in the dark, listening to the booming purr until he decided he'd lock up in favor of going out in daylight.

The next day he pulled them out, put me on his wife's and told me to follow. We didn't have enough ATVs so one of my 9th grade students hopped on the back with me. It didn't seem intelligent to place two lives in the hands of someone who had never operated such a vehicle before, but before I could argue, the owner was getting every ounce of "bad" out of his ride as he rocketed down the street and disappeared.

He waited up for me, a considerable wait since my initial driving skill was something akin to a mouse frantically and randomly jumping from side to side. Once I got my bearings he led us into some trails behind his house. These trails were ATV sized exactly. One false move to the left or right and you were eating tree. I still didn't have a handle (pun not intended) on how do steer the thing so I ended up eating quite a bit of tree. I felt bad for the kid riding with me, he had to have been terrified. Apparently when I hit an immovable object my brain - in it's panic - sends a signal to my thumb to speed up violently. This led to the untimely death of at least a couple of trees. I'd hit them, hear a cracking noise coming from underneath me, then spring forward and finish flattening them to the ground.

The trails led us to a really cool dried out lake bed. As you can imagine, there was plenty of mud and water to plow though. The sandy ground had been eroded and washed out severely and provided a great way to jarr the living daylights out of yourself. I had a lot of fun flying through this one puddle until mud splashed directly into my eye.

When the day was done we came back and pressure washed his "babies" before putting them away. I almost hate to say it, but all these years I've been wrong about "faw-weelin." It's actually undeniably fun, in a "you could seriously kill yourself doing this" kind of way. One more to check off my list of things I never thought I'd do.

So...basically...I took a ride into the danger zone, right?

Last Post of February

I think it's safe to say that considering it's not a leap year and everything. Well, lets see ... what is there to talk about?

How about that predictions list I made back in January? Already more predictions have come to being. I HAVE danced under close supervision and it wasn't nearly the catostophy I'd imagined it. I'm pretty sure 5 and 6 may have already happened, I'll need a confirmation on that from Yam. Perhaps 7 has already happened? Someone will have to fess up and admit it.

Other than that, how about that February? It's a short month but even so, man, did it fly by faster than I thought it would. Highlights of the month have been:
Picking up the guitar and getting serious for the first time-
Going out with the small group fellas on Valentines day-
Thursdays at Katy's-
Lack of sanity at Dave and Matt's place -
Dancing ... and surviving! -
Spending last Saturday at Caswell -
and
Last night at the Rusty Nail.

I was at Caswell for my interview and that was tons of fun. I'll hear back this week or early next as to if I'm hired and what position.

The Rusty Nail is a little bar on 5th street, Jesse called me up and he and Matt took me down there to watch Will Fryar play drums. AMAZING. There were several blues bands there for the night and I had no clue we had such talent in Wilmington (nor did I know that Will had such talent). I'll be heading out there every Tuesday I get the chance. If you can stomach the smoke-filled air, you should too.

Well, that's all for now. I have class to prepare for. For all 3 of you that actually read my blog, I hope God blesses you greatly and I wish you a happy March!

Rollo Please

Read this first, it's short.
WECT.com - Wilmington, NC news and weather - Wilmington Police Roll into the Future

I'm not even going to make a joke about the how they forgot to make "suspect" plural in the third sentence. In fact, what can I do with this story? I mean, seriously, this is a joke on it's own. We have a police officer, giddy over how sneaky he is in his Segway scooter.

"This morning, I had it out for the first time, and I was on the boardwalk, and there were two gentlemen on the boardwalk with open containers. And it's just so quiet and stealthy and I rolled up on them. They didn't expect it, they didn't even know I was there," said officer Scott Holzberger. "They were completely surprised."

May I just take this opportunity to say THANK GOODNESS for the stealthiness of that Segway. Had the officer not surprised the gentlemen, they wouldn't have comically spewed their alcohol all over the boardwalk when he silently appeared just over their shoulders. I don't know, officer, something tells me sneaking up on people who are getting liquored up might just be asking to get a punch in the face.

"Excuse me si...WHAP!"

Now crime will have to answer to the long belly of the law as overweight officers zip around on their Segways downtown. I can see the new Wilmington Police Force photos now, with the patrol cars, Sheriff's deputies, Wilmington's famous mounted officers, and ... the fat guy on the Segway. BUT IF HE'S WEARING SUNGLASSES, HE'S STILL BAD A**, make no mistake!
I feel safer all ready.

Who wants a chocolate cast of my face for Valentine's Day?

My Grandma

Betty Westbrook Surles
December 29, 1926 - February 2, 2007

Every once in a while something comes up that is not totally off the wall but is totally worth my time to write about. When I was a wee lad, there was scarce a moment when I was lacking in love and affection. My mother and father poured it all over me, (even though they spanked me, I still feel this way) and even my sisters took time off from being cruel to me on occasion. I think most people would agree with me on this point, though, that grandparents can spoil you like no one else. Maybe it's because they want to reconnect with their youth in some way, or maybe it's because they can give you back when they're done with you, but they are often the sweetest people in your life. My grandma Surles was as sweet as she could be.

When I think of my grandma Surles I think of all the delicious food she cooked. I think of trips to Hardees for fried chicken, eating it in the car and her making sure that no crumbs got in the seats. I remember times when she sat next to me in the back seat on the way to the mountains, she always loved to hear me call the Christmas tree farms "ho ho trees." Trips to Carter Pharmacy where she worked stand out in my mind because of the candy she would buy me and because I can still picture the way she stood behind the counter with her arms crossed. Most of all, I remember the time I spent with her and my granddaddy in their living room watching Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and the Discovery Channel. She would often sit in a rocking chair or the ottoman next to it and sometimes she would read to me. In particular, I remember her reading to me from a children's Bible. She'd read the story and point out things in the pictures that were of interest. I was filled with utter disbelief when, after one of our reading sessions, she told me I could keep it.

Not too long after my grandfather died, grandma started acting differently. It was only occasional but she would forget big things, or say something completely out of character. Eventually, we learned that she had developed Alzheimer's Disease. From around the time I became a teenager, I didn't have much to do with my grandmother and slowly, the disease took the grandmother I had known away. For the past several years she's been alive, but not really here.

It's a very hard thing to see someone you were so close to as a child become sick like that. I know several friends who have gone through the same thing with their family members and it hasn't been easy for them either. When my grandmother passed away this past Friday I was sad. Sad because I remembered the good times spent with her, grandaddy and the whole family at Easter and Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was sad because I know it'll be a long time before I see her again, but I'm happy that she's free now. When I went home the first thing I did in my room was dig around in some piles to find an artifact I hadn't looked at in years, the children's Bible she gave me. Giving it a quick flip I came to a break in the pages made by a piece of paper that hadn't moved since little Nathan stuck it there. On the paper were various poorly drawn faces. At the top I had written "there are many kinds of faces" and beneath that there were worried faces, sad faces, angry faces, even a kissy face. At the bottom the second line read "we hope you have this one" with an arrow pointing to and circling a smily face. I can't be certain but I think it's safe to say that by "we" I meant "me and grandma." If it's possible, if she can still hear from us in some way, I hope she knows that her grown up grandson still hopes she's smiling.

In Response to the Hamster Dance

Abercrombie and, what was that other guy’s name?

My sister drug me to an Abercrombie the other day. It was only the second time in my life that I'd set foot inside one. While there I realized a glorious truth. No one shops at A&F anymore. By no one I mean, no one in the mainstream. Sure, you have people like Melissa who are just a wee bit led astray, girls who love spending too much money on beat the crap up clothing, and men of very, very questionable sexual orientation.

For those of you who have, rightfully so, not ventured into an A&F since you were a fledgling tween discovering your modest popularity in middle school, I've prepared a reminder of what the experience is like.

The first thing you'll notice, and sadly you notice this even if you avoid going in, is that somewhere along the line someone lied to the clothing company and told them they were a club. From 40 yards away the techno/electronic beats will reverberate in your skull and somewhere, deep down inside, you'll feel like dancing. Then you realize it's just the retards at Abercrombie. Much to my dismay, upon entering there weren't any of the glow stick toting, ecstasy tripping dance-a-holics that I had dreamed up in my head. Looks like two sorority girls and a giant fake moose head is about all they could get to be excited about the party. By excited I mean, as much as the moose head.

And about that moose head, it's not real (I asked) and it is apparently important to their "image," yet they don't seem to be able to take the time to dust old moosey. I haven't seen that much dust since I was in the arid valleys of San Diego. I'm certainly glad that moose isn't real because if he were, they wouldn't be doing a good job of honoring his memory. Besides that, I have a theory. They know animal rights activists will be after them if they put up a "real" Moose head, so I believe they constructed a "fake" moose head from other parts of the moose. That’s real moose fur...they could grind the bones up and make a paste to keep it all together. I'm telling you, that’s real moose up there, at least some of it.

So once you're over the horrors of the decapitated moose head (man, that makes me want to shop) if you're like me, you want to ignore the clothes and kick it old school over every square inch of open floor. Melissa didn't approve of my dancing, solo or with the displays. Then, just as you're starting to have fun, the slow realization creeps in of how homoerotic the whole situation is. Think about it, you feel like dancing in an empty clothing store surrounded by posters of naked men. If that doesn't mess with your head, I don't know what will.

People of America (especially men), it is time to abandon A&F in favor of other, better shopping atmospheres. If you still need ridiculously overpriced clothing, there are Banana Republics and the like, which will supply that need.

When life throws me lemons I'm like, "Who the crap is life and why does he keep pelting me with fruit?"

Winning the Lottery

The (offbeat) sporting life.

Today I went geocaching with Stephen Jeffcoat. We found two of the three we were going for so I'll call that a successful day. If you're reading this and you don't know what geocaching is, go to this site and that should explain everything well enough. I don't feel much like explaining it here. So yeah, I do a lot of that kind of thing.

Matt Stevens has recently shown me the joys of disc golf. Disc golf is like regular golf, but for frat boys. Well, specifically, frat boys who are sober at hole one and a danger to your life by hole 15. I haven't personally seen their drunken rubber disc come flying for my head, but I'm sure others have.

But seriously, disc golf is for normal people too. We show up at the course with three discs between the two of us (all his) and we're greeted by a fairly serious looking group of guys. Imagine, if you will, the pre-launch scene from Armageddon. You guys know the one I'm talking about, where they're all walking in slow motion? Yeah, so these five guys come up with their sunglasses and, yes, little disc golf bags. Someone actually went to the trouble of making a bag for these things that resembles the homely love child of a golf bag and a camera bag. I knew it was going to be a fun day.

Despite the waves of intimidation coming from their general vicinity, I was able to let the discs fly and didn't do as poorly as I had imagined. I might have to pick this up as a regular hobby and purchase some discs of my on. That being said, if you ever see me toting aroung a bag for them, do me a favor.

Slap me
or
Find a midget to be my disc caddie.

I like change machines because I always walk away feeling like a winner.

How to Tell if Someone's a Crook

Today is Thursday and Thursday is the weekly "Nathan is Awesome Day," because I get to sleep in and do whatever I want all day. I'm about to make some BIG announcments so check back soon.

Oh, and I also got a new blog, this one is for class. It's calle "It's Still Six" (has to do with the class) and you can get to it at www.itsstillsix.blogspot.com. This blog might be something you'll want to check out because it's going to mainly be a video blog with one minute movies I make about almost anything. Ch-ch..Ch-ch..Ch-check...Check it out!

Snack vending machines are a cruel mistress.

Why I Love the Smell of Gunpowder

Today I have some links for you fine folks to check out.

First of all, I'd just like to point out that one of my predictions for the year has already come to pass. Something DID blow up in Iraq. I know you're probably stunned at how soon this happened after my prediction, but with that being said here is the official story. Scores killed in Baghdad blasts - Los Angeles Times
This time it looks like it took the lives of several college students. It pains me to think of several of my contemporaries lost at such an early age. I hate the war because I hate all wars and I hope peace can be achieved in those parts soon. I urge you all to never let the situation in that area escape your concern or your prayers.

Secondly, and on a lighter note, I have to bring up a link from UNCW's own web site. Every so often UNCW does a short piece on a "Soaring Seahawk," a student of outstanding collegiate citizenship.
University of North Carolina Wilmington - Soaring Seahawk
Now, you may be surprised to see that I didn't send you a page about me, that's understandable, BUT take a second look. Perhaps you notice that handsome out-of-focus fellow in the background wearing a blue shirt? Yes, I did manage to make it in on one of those pages somehow. I'm not sure but I think it's safe to jump the gun on UNCW and announce this early on my blog. I'm officially a "Deliberate and Low Gliding Seahawk."

Ah, something smells like corduroy.

Hats Off to the Dead and Dying

Wilmington. This place has some of the most unstable weather but I must confess, I love the sunsets here. Tuesday I was just outside of town and the golden glow of the sun was breathtaking. Somehow I kept my breath and managed to continue flying down I-40 at 70 mph, in spite of it. Looking forward I saw nothing like the sky behind me, the entire city was settled under the biggest, darkest cloud I think I've ever seen in those parts. I thought to myself that it was a little weird and I hoped that the rain would hold off until I got all of my stuff inside. Just then I caught something in my peripheral vision. A large plane broke through the cloud to my left and was flying alarmingly low to the ground. On top of it was one of those huge dishes.

"A radar plane? What the crap?"

Then I noticed the greenish hue of the sky in the few place it still broke through. My mind went a little crazy. It was like being in a tornado movie and I was the dumb guy in the opening credits that put two and two together just in time to get hurled into the sky and ripped to bits.

Thankfully, the worst we got was a sprinkling here and there. I know, all that buildup for nothing.

Yesterday was the first day of classes and I walked to Bear Hall hurriedly throughout the sharp wind. For some reason I always end up in the grass on Chancellor's Walk. That's the long straight pair of sidewalks that lead to the academic buildings. It's not like I consciously do it or anything, I just stop daydreaming for a moment and realize that I'm walking between the sidewalks or just off the outside edge of one of them. I look around and usually find that I'm the only one off the concrete in a sea of people. By people I mean blonde girls with huge sunglasses talking on their cell phones and chewing gum.

Maybe it's something in my subconscious. I usually think about all sorts of things when I walk. One time I even thought about how I could open up my own dance club on Front Street. I DON'T DANCE! That's just an example of how random my walking thoughts can be. I suppose in that sense it's appropriate that I walk off the beaten path.

When I got to my class the door was locked and a group of gum-chewing chatty girls had already staked out the good spots on the wall. Five minutes came and went, then ten. I looked left and right. There was no teacher but there weren't many boys either; two guys, myself, and about 20 girls. This school is swamped with girls but it's very rarely that one sticks out. They all seem to have some secret club where they tell each other how to dress and act, even what hobbies are appropriate and which mannerisms to adopt. Don't get me wrong, I've met some astoundingly unique women at UNCW, but I've also been astounded by how hard so many of them try to blend in. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm just seeing the same girls every day.

So the teacher never came and we all went on with our day. I found out that I share and essay writing class with James, a friend of mine from my Schwartz days. Later on I went to the class I share with my roommate, Japanese Cinema, and found the demographic there to be quite different. There were about 20 of us and only one girl, a friend of mine from CCF. I guess the secret club doesn't approve of filmmaking.

Nothing else interesting happened, really. I went to a Wendy's but honestly, who hasn't experienced the thrill of ordering a Jr. Hamburger? I'll let you fill in that experience with your own. Before I leave I think I will do one more thing. I'm going to make my predictions for 2007 and we'll see how many of them stand by this time next year.

1. Fidel Castro will die.
2. New candy introduced by Hershey's.
3. I will dance (under close supervision).
4. A panda will be born in captivity.
5. Yam will elbow someone in the arm.
6. They will whine like a baby.
7. You will smell funny and someone will comment on it.
8. Something will blow up in Iraq.
9. Coldplay will release a great album.
10. Something wonderful will happen in my life sometime in Aug.-Sept.

However wonderful or rocky the start of this year may be, I'm putting God in front and I'm excited to see what he's going to do in and with my life. May all of you have a happy January and God bless.

What if Jr. Hamburger had a kid, would it be Hamburger III?

Farewell 2006

I would have written this earlier but my new year was jam-packed with stuff and I haven't had a chance to sit down and think about it all until just now. On the 30 I went down to Shallotte to see my good friends Jacob and Vickery get married. It was a beautiful ceremony and I'm grateful to have been invited because it really helped me look at love anew again, something that I've needed. We get so caught up in our dating relationships (or lack thereof) that we forget what the end product is supposed to look like. Two people, without fear in their hearts or doubt in their minds, becoming one person under God. I hope there are many happy years to come for Jacob and Vickery and I certainly look forward to their moving to the Wilmington area this fall.

After the wedding Curtis McLamb was kind enough to come back to Wilmington with me and spend the night at my apartment so that I wouldn't have to stay there alone. Curtis is a fine person and a devoted Christian man. I'm glad I finally got to know him a little better this weekend and I can't wait to see what's in store for him when he gets out of seminary.

Sunday was the start of Caswell Staff reunion for me. I came in at the tail end of a youth conference they were having and got to see a surprising number of my friends earlier than I thought. I always expect very little of summer staff reunions and I'm always very surprised by how special they end up being to me. This year's was especially fun. I'm so glad to have spent time with everyone and to have had a reminder of what life is about for us.

Now I'm leaving. Well, I just left. This post is coming to you from transition. On my way back to Four Oaks I made a stop at my apartment in Wilmington again. I was in the mood so I thought this would be a good time to do my typical year in review "reflective" post. I'm afraid it won't be as extravagant or neatly arranged as the ones of the past two years, but hopefully it'll serve it's purpose. Quite frankly, 2006 wasn't extravagant or neatly arranged either. I tried to arrange it, perhaps that was the problem. In any case I have something to celebrate as the big 7 takes over. Growth of character.

Now I'm not one to sit around and congratulate myself on being a "man of character" and, in fact, I have no idea how close I am to being one. I just know that I've acquired a little more than what I had. This year started out without a bang. Last holiday season was probably the least magical feeling of any I've experienced. It came and went and was over. That was the big sendoff into 2006.

In April, on my 20th birthday, my childhood canine companion, Bandit, died. It was something that I knew was coming but it still broke my heart. In May I got out with good grades but little celebration, time was just passing. Nothing got better in my life, nothing got worse. I was just there...and then I went back to Caswell for my 4th summer. I did what I said I'd never do when I started on Oak Island, I did the same job for the second year in a row. It was very unfortunate for me because I felt that I didn't get as much out of the experience as I had in previous years, and I don't feel I gave as much back either. I spent the summer with my mind wandering and in semi-isolation from other staffers due to my odd hours. I love Caswell but I didn't have my heart in it like I should have this past summer.

In August I had a hard, hard time followed by an unbelievably hard time. Most people know this, and I'm certainly not going to go into detail on a situation that has already claimed more time than it should have from myself and those who helped me through it. Little Nathan got a case of the broken hearts. In hindsight, I'm embarrassed and ashamed of how I handled the situation with my friends and especially with her. All I can do is chalk it up to inexperience with being in love and, subsequently, with having to fall out of it. Coming into college I had almost no experience with matters of the heart and I guess now I can finally know how losing the first real relationship must be difficult for a lot of people. To close this out, I'd just like to both thank and apologize to everyone I've gone to for help. I know many of you don't mind talking to people in distress and for that I am forever indebted to you and will pass on the kindness to others in need. To God I am even more so grateful because He has allowed me to grow so much through this. To Caroline, if you ever read this, I'd like to thank you for having the courage to do what was right and put up with my fits and delusions afterwards.

September through November were awash with odd trips and awkward adjustment to and acceptance of the single life. I don't even really remember many things from that time, only a bitter feeling that part of me wants to forget and the other part wants to treasure. There is joy to be found in any personal tragedy if you look hard enough, of this I'm certain. As time goes by I know I'll look back on this and giggle like a small rodent.

Looking to the future I'd like to take my mind of myself for a while. I want to focus on film projects and jobs and serving Christ and forget about whatever situation I happen to be in. Only time will tell my success, I suppose. The good news is that my serious post is over for the year and from here on out I can start writing about dumb stuff again! I love you all and wish you the best!

God bless 2007