Even more notes on growing up...
I meant to write about this earlier but I didn't really get a chance to. I just had one of those little moments that sort of brings something to light, made it real.
Last Tuesday after my final CCF large group (a.c.r.e., there, for Glen's sake I called it acre) we went out to eat at Flaming Amy's, a favorite spot. Soon after I was seated I heard a girl's voice call out to me that didn't sound familiar.
"Hey, I know you."
I looked around and saw a somewhat crazy-looking girl (I think she would approve of me describing her that way) walk toward me from a few tables over.
"We worked at Caswell together," she said.
"Oh, yeah! Brittany?" I answered.
"No, Shannon."
"Oh, yeah, sorry. How have you been?" I asked, as she leaned down to give me a hug.
She then told me about where she worked and what she had been doing. I remembered her from when we worked together in the summer of 2003, but it had been so long and she had changed so much. Her hair was crazy, but very cool - with exaggerated 1940's curls in front. She apparently had a large blue tattoo across her chest and more piercings than you could shake a stick at. "How times change," I thought.
"Oh, I don't really believe the same things that I believed back then," she said, "But I still have really fond memories of that place. It was really special to me. "
I took this to mean, of course, that she didn't consider herself a Christian. The only time that I had heard of her since we worked at the camp was when one of my other friends told me she had met her at work and they randomly made the connection that they both knew me. She told me that Shannon had opened up and told her that her attitude toward Christianity had changed a lot over the years.
I was still caught off guard by the whole run-in, so I just sort of let her talk and hug me in random intervals. The whole time she went on, however, my mind was buzzing. What got me the most was just how long ago it was that we had worked together. Here was this girl, totally transformed from the one that I knew as a staffer at Christian camp, and her story of where she'd been just exaggerated how much can happen in five years. After 2 or 3 minutes of riminiscing on what she probably assumed was a long-gone memory for me as well, I let it slip:
"Yeah, I'm actually going back there to work this summer," I said, "Pretty crazy, huh?"
She just stopped for a split second, her eyes wide.
"Yeah, wow, that's cool." she said.
We chatted for another couple of seconds and then she walked out, wishing me well. My burrito came and I ate it like a champ. It was spicy chicken and I have to say, it was quite delicious, but on the way back it wasn't the burrito that lingered with me, as one might expect, it was thoughts of Caswell.
Caswell has been a part of my life for a really, really long time. This is something that is usually a one summer thing for people, if that. A few people stick around for two summers, and even fewer, three. There are the hard-core kids that have been there for four or five, but now I feel like I've reached some sort of threshold at my sixth summer. No longer am I within the reasonable bounds for enjoying the camp experience, there is something in me that draws me back and it's not all that normal.
Before I even go back into this summer, I've decided that I'm going to be doing a few things differently. First of all, I'm saying what I've only hinted at in summers past, I'm openly referring to it as my last summer. I never thought I would make it this far, but now that I have, it's time to really let people, (and more importantly, myself) know that I'm done in 2008. I'm not at all embarrassed to have worked at camp for six summers, it's not like I'm ashamed at my age. I know some people who don't start at Caswell until they're 22, so I think it's more of a issue of worrying that there's something else out there I should be doing, or that I'm taking a position that they could be giving to a new staffer. I don't feel that way about this coming summer, but I know that now is the time for me to move on.
It's also going to be different because this time around I'm going to be moving on from Caswell into a very different situation than in years past, school will be over for me and I don't have a job lined up - per say. I know that I should be spending a good deal of my free time this summer looking for jobs, especially if I want to stay in Wilmington, so that's going to be a priority. In any case, I can't think of a better place to be when you're trying to figure out what to do with your life than being surrounded by people who love God and will pray for you. I'm surprised at how comfortable I am with the fact that I have no clue where I'll be or what I'll be doing in 4 months.
The final thing that I want to accomplish this summer, is to get the whole experience down on paper. I know this is it, and I don't want to forget about it in 10 years. I'm going to try to write up a couple of pages a day, pulling from the past and capture special insights from the present as they come to me. Hopefully it'll turn into something that other people can enjoy reading as much as I could, but the main thing is to preserve it for later inspiration.
...
Tonight is the night of Nathanpalooza. The CCF folks have put together a big grad night thing for the graduating members, just like always. Only, not just like always, I'm the only graduating senior this year. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of being the center of attention, but I think it speaks volumes about the character of this group that they'd go all out for just one person in the same way they did for 11 people last year. They're a good bunch and I really appreciate them.
Two weeks from today I'll be walking across the stage and on to greener pastures, which begs the question.
WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO WILMINGSLOAN?
Well, it's the end of an era, and the thus the end of my blogging at this address. I'm going to have some grand, final send-off posts in the next few days, probably more than anyone will ever get around to reading, but they'll be good for me. Time will tell where things go from here.
To my friends, wherever ye be, I love thee all!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Zero Bar (Has My Vote)
because...
Because I have one leg propped up on my knee, lying on my back atop my stupid cloud print sheets in room A-308
Because I think it's 74 degrees outside and beautiful
Because I'm blessed by friends whom I may not see in a few short weeks
Because I just ate a can of Campbell's soup for lunch
Because I hate the fussy lock on my mailbox
Because I'm running on 2 hours of sleep (but I got that paper done last night)
Because in four days I will have reached a milestone. As long without as with
Because Bryan is busy hunting monsters on his PSP
Because someone is coming over soon
Because of Wilmington
Because of all of this
...
Because today I walked out of an undergraduate class for the last time -
and I felt like I should write about it.
(I'm feeling reflective today-haha)
Because I have one leg propped up on my knee, lying on my back atop my stupid cloud print sheets in room A-308
Because I think it's 74 degrees outside and beautiful
Because I'm blessed by friends whom I may not see in a few short weeks
Because I just ate a can of Campbell's soup for lunch
Because I hate the fussy lock on my mailbox
Because I'm running on 2 hours of sleep (but I got that paper done last night)
Because in four days I will have reached a milestone. As long without as with
Because Bryan is busy hunting monsters on his PSP
Because someone is coming over soon
Because of Wilmington
Because of all of this
...
Because today I walked out of an undergraduate class for the last time -
and I felt like I should write about it.
(I'm feeling reflective today-haha)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Animated Grilled Cheese Sandwich Kills Hundreds in Buffalo
Some things I would build if I were a carpenter:
A sweet tree house
Wooden swords
A giant Hollow animal of some sort
a reproduction of the Death Star throne room
a tree made of 2x4s
all-wooden big wheel
splinterizer (block of unsanded wood)
Coffee mug
plasma television
Audi A4
Stegosaurus 1:1 scale
Water cooler
Bamboo yard furniture
Edible yard furniture (for pandas)
a wood-block carving of Space
a really sweet desk chair
A sweet tree house
Wooden swords
A giant Hollow animal of some sort
a reproduction of the Death Star throne room
a tree made of 2x4s
all-wooden big wheel
splinterizer (block of unsanded wood)
Coffee mug
plasma television
Audi A4
Stegosaurus 1:1 scale
Water cooler
Bamboo yard furniture
Edible yard furniture (for pandas)
a wood-block carving of Space
a really sweet desk chair
Monday, April 14, 2008
Ladle Me This
... something bubbling ...
I wish I was a genius.
I have come to think of myself as someone who is right at the cusp of being a truly inspired individual but who has fundamentally missed the qualifications by a narrow margin. I miss the days when I happily fooled myself into thinking that what I said or did had profound impact. I never really believed it, but I played a game in which pretending that my work was important somehow made it so. I'm not complaining, I'm not sad, don't get me wrong - I'm just not quite where I feel like I should be. There is an inscription on my heart that tells my brain that I'm going to be greatly significant, I just don't see the evidence of it anywhere right now. In the end, perhaps we're all playing the same game. That's what leads to a mid-life crisis, isn't it? One day we wake up and realize that we're not the awesome people we hoped we would become and we're running out of time. Why am I going through a quarter-life crisis? It's amazing what impending graduation can do to a fellow.
I like to think I just can't always understand my significance - but that doesn't mean it isn't there - and that maybe my lack of comprehension is in my own best interest.
I wish I was a genius.
I have come to think of myself as someone who is right at the cusp of being a truly inspired individual but who has fundamentally missed the qualifications by a narrow margin. I miss the days when I happily fooled myself into thinking that what I said or did had profound impact. I never really believed it, but I played a game in which pretending that my work was important somehow made it so. I'm not complaining, I'm not sad, don't get me wrong - I'm just not quite where I feel like I should be. There is an inscription on my heart that tells my brain that I'm going to be greatly significant, I just don't see the evidence of it anywhere right now. In the end, perhaps we're all playing the same game. That's what leads to a mid-life crisis, isn't it? One day we wake up and realize that we're not the awesome people we hoped we would become and we're running out of time. Why am I going through a quarter-life crisis? It's amazing what impending graduation can do to a fellow.
I like to think I just can't always understand my significance - but that doesn't mean it isn't there - and that maybe my lack of comprehension is in my own best interest.
SHA-MA-LLAMA
Below I have copied the text I just wrote to a private parking service in downtown Wilmington. It's a dispute for a ticket they gave me. For the record, it's completely true. I did pay for the spot and I was really confused about how their stuff worked. I do suspect that something was wrong with their pay station.
Dispute Letter
To whom it may concern:
My name it Nathaniel Sloan and on April 4th I stopped by the top floor of the Water St. Deck and parked in stall 354. Having never parked there before, it took me a moment to get my bearings and find the nearest pay station. Once I found it, I decided to purchase the space until 6 am and I put in a $5 bill, receiving a one-dollar coin in change. At this point I expected a ticket of some sort or a receipt to be printed, but instead the screen flashed back to the “Enter space number” screen. Since I had already entered my space number and that was the first thing that it asked me for, I found this odd. Naturally, I assumed that the transaction had finished and concluded that you folks must have a computer system of some sort that would let you know that my space was taken care of until I left.
Upon returning to the deck later that evening, I saw a large group of people gathered around the same pay station, and didn’t think much of it. When I got to my car I saw that I have a Parking Fee Imposed ticket (invoice number ********) I was puzzled. I looked back at the group of people at the pay station, I don’t know if they were just hanging out there for a long time or if they were experiencing the same problem that I had of not getting a printed ticket. I would greatly appreciate it if you could dismiss this $25 fee due to the difficulties I was having with the pay station.
I really like the location and convenience of the Water St. Deck and appreciate the service that you provide to the community by doing business with us there. I would hate to feel uncomfortable going back due to the trouble caused by either my confusion with or possible malfunction of the pay station. $29 is a steep price for one night of parking, as I’m sure you’d agree. I understand that it’s important to present proof in the form of a receipt to you that I paid for the spot - unfortunately, I’m not able to include that with this letter, as no receipt was ever printed for me. I’m hoping that there is an explanation for this and that will provide me with some clarity on the situation.
Kindest Regards,
Nathaniel Sloan
Dispute Letter
To whom it may concern:
My name it Nathaniel Sloan and on April 4th I stopped by the top floor of the Water St. Deck and parked in stall 354. Having never parked there before, it took me a moment to get my bearings and find the nearest pay station. Once I found it, I decided to purchase the space until 6 am and I put in a $5 bill, receiving a one-dollar coin in change. At this point I expected a ticket of some sort or a receipt to be printed, but instead the screen flashed back to the “Enter space number” screen. Since I had already entered my space number and that was the first thing that it asked me for, I found this odd. Naturally, I assumed that the transaction had finished and concluded that you folks must have a computer system of some sort that would let you know that my space was taken care of until I left.
Upon returning to the deck later that evening, I saw a large group of people gathered around the same pay station, and didn’t think much of it. When I got to my car I saw that I have a Parking Fee Imposed ticket (invoice number ********) I was puzzled. I looked back at the group of people at the pay station, I don’t know if they were just hanging out there for a long time or if they were experiencing the same problem that I had of not getting a printed ticket. I would greatly appreciate it if you could dismiss this $25 fee due to the difficulties I was having with the pay station.
I really like the location and convenience of the Water St. Deck and appreciate the service that you provide to the community by doing business with us there. I would hate to feel uncomfortable going back due to the trouble caused by either my confusion with or possible malfunction of the pay station. $29 is a steep price for one night of parking, as I’m sure you’d agree. I understand that it’s important to present proof in the form of a receipt to you that I paid for the spot - unfortunately, I’m not able to include that with this letter, as no receipt was ever printed for me. I’m hoping that there is an explanation for this and that will provide me with some clarity on the situation.
Kindest Regards,
Nathaniel Sloan
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Small Spaces
What the fetch?
Facebook (the online social networking utility, not a literal book filled with the pealed faces of serial killer victims) has an application called the "compare people" application. The whole purpose of it is to make people vote between two of their friends, which one is better than the other at something. When I first saw this I thought it was tremendously shallow and refused to add it. In the months that followed, however, my curiosity got the best of me and since I gave up pretending that I don't care what people think of me a long time ago, I decided to give it a try.
After answering a series of questions about my friends, the program finally let me see my results. It ranks you from what you're best at to what you're worst at. I'm not here to talk about what I'm best at, because that's all a bunch of subjective bologna (for the longest time, I was the 1st "Best smelling" person out of my 550 Facebook friends. BEST SMELLING? SERIOUSLY? Who sniffs me?) I'm here to talk about what I scored lowest at. Here is just a smattering:
213th "Better Dancer" (I agree with this)
126th "Smarter"
189th "Funnier"
261st "Most Generous" (what a flippin' low blow)
279th "Rather have dinner with"
Ok, seriously people. Why don't you want to eat with me? Do my eating habits disgust you that much? Is the thought of spending 30 minutes to an hour with me that horrendous? How big of a difference, if any, would it make if I offered to pay?(Note the generosity)
I mean, I could understand if I was a disgusting slob, like that guy on the 60 minutes special about obesity. Look, I'm not going to order two entrees for myself and then try to eat yours as well. I don't require a forklift to exit my home. I won't bring up uncomfortable topics as soon as you put a fork full in your mouth and scratch myself while awaiting your answer. There is no real reason not to eat with me, COME ON!
I'm totally over it.
Facebook (the online social networking utility, not a literal book filled with the pealed faces of serial killer victims) has an application called the "compare people" application. The whole purpose of it is to make people vote between two of their friends, which one is better than the other at something. When I first saw this I thought it was tremendously shallow and refused to add it. In the months that followed, however, my curiosity got the best of me and since I gave up pretending that I don't care what people think of me a long time ago, I decided to give it a try.
After answering a series of questions about my friends, the program finally let me see my results. It ranks you from what you're best at to what you're worst at. I'm not here to talk about what I'm best at, because that's all a bunch of subjective bologna (for the longest time, I was the 1st "Best smelling" person out of my 550 Facebook friends. BEST SMELLING? SERIOUSLY? Who sniffs me?) I'm here to talk about what I scored lowest at. Here is just a smattering:
213th "Better Dancer" (I agree with this)
126th "Smarter"
189th "Funnier"
261st "Most Generous" (what a flippin' low blow)
279th "Rather have dinner with"
Ok, seriously people. Why don't you want to eat with me? Do my eating habits disgust you that much? Is the thought of spending 30 minutes to an hour with me that horrendous? How big of a difference, if any, would it make if I offered to pay?(Note the generosity)
I mean, I could understand if I was a disgusting slob, like that guy on the 60 minutes special about obesity. Look, I'm not going to order two entrees for myself and then try to eat yours as well. I don't require a forklift to exit my home. I won't bring up uncomfortable topics as soon as you put a fork full in your mouth and scratch myself while awaiting your answer. There is no real reason not to eat with me, COME ON!
I'm totally over it.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Spicy Chicken Burrito = Amazing
In a little over 24 hours, I will be 22.
In a little over 4 weeks, I will be a UNCW alumni.
In American Romanticism, we're being made to read Moby Dick. Now, any of you that have seen Moby Dick know that it's a rather large book and I'm having a slow go of it trying to through. Yesterday I went to the library to try and isolate myself and get some good time in. I read for two hours, in one of the first chapters I read, Ishmael and his companion stop by an Inn on Nantucket and are treated to some of the most delicious sounding Clam and Cod chowder ever. Suddenly, this boring soup that I've taken for granted for so long came to life for me. This wasn't something that Campbells canned and forgot about - this was a soup RICH in cultural heritage, the stuff of hardened sea captains and salty harpooneers. It is something that people took great pride in.
Subsequently, I became very hungry. After I was done reading I went to the grocery store, bought one can of clam chowder, went back to my apartment and ate it. I've never appreciated a soup so much in my life.
Random fact: I didn't know what Deli was short for until two years ago
In a little over 4 weeks, I will be a UNCW alumni.
In American Romanticism, we're being made to read Moby Dick. Now, any of you that have seen Moby Dick know that it's a rather large book and I'm having a slow go of it trying to through. Yesterday I went to the library to try and isolate myself and get some good time in. I read for two hours, in one of the first chapters I read, Ishmael and his companion stop by an Inn on Nantucket and are treated to some of the most delicious sounding Clam and Cod chowder ever. Suddenly, this boring soup that I've taken for granted for so long came to life for me. This wasn't something that Campbells canned and forgot about - this was a soup RICH in cultural heritage, the stuff of hardened sea captains and salty harpooneers. It is something that people took great pride in.
Subsequently, I became very hungry. After I was done reading I went to the grocery store, bought one can of clam chowder, went back to my apartment and ate it. I've never appreciated a soup so much in my life.
Random fact: I didn't know what Deli was short for until two years ago
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Then Steve Danced His Way to Freedom
An Open letter to Hottie McCoffee-Pants:
Dear Hottie McCoffee-Pants,
You probably know me as the guy that occasionally comes in and gets a deli sandwich to-go and pays with food dollars on my student ID card. I know I've never asked you for anything aside from an oversized cookie from the baked goods shelf before, but today my request is more personal. All year I have been treated to your unassumingly gorgeous face when I go to get lunch. All year you have been totally unaware of my feelings for you. I would have told you earlier, but one day last fall, you were making a mixed coffee beverage for another customer and you let it slip in conversation with a colleague that you were engaged to be married. I instantly felt that my chances at procuring a date with you were lost. Never again would I enter the coffee shop with the feelings of excitement that I once had. Now I thought all hope was lost.
BUT THAT HAS CHANGED. I had an epiphany! I should just tell you what I have felt so you can just know that I am the one for you. So here it goes.
Hottie McCoffee-Pants, I know you are currently in love with another man to the point that you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life with him, but is that really what you want? Wouldn't you always wonder if you weren't really supposed to be with that guy that didn't ask for a pickle and rarely bought beverages to go with his sandwiches? In 20 years, what will plague your mind? Will it be thoughts of your job or your kid's futures, or will it be how different your life could be if you'd just dismissed your fiancé with no explanation and gone with me to Carabbas, my treat? I know it sounds crazy but I think I represent something for you. I think I have something to offer - a way out. The chance to keep the ball rolling and start again.
I'm relatively sure you wouldn't regret it. Please let me know.
Respectfully,
---
Dear Hottie McCoffee-Pants,
You probably know me as the guy that occasionally comes in and gets a deli sandwich to-go and pays with food dollars on my student ID card. I know I've never asked you for anything aside from an oversized cookie from the baked goods shelf before, but today my request is more personal. All year I have been treated to your unassumingly gorgeous face when I go to get lunch. All year you have been totally unaware of my feelings for you. I would have told you earlier, but one day last fall, you were making a mixed coffee beverage for another customer and you let it slip in conversation with a colleague that you were engaged to be married. I instantly felt that my chances at procuring a date with you were lost. Never again would I enter the coffee shop with the feelings of excitement that I once had. Now I thought all hope was lost.
BUT THAT HAS CHANGED. I had an epiphany! I should just tell you what I have felt so you can just know that I am the one for you. So here it goes.
Hottie McCoffee-Pants, I know you are currently in love with another man to the point that you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life with him, but is that really what you want? Wouldn't you always wonder if you weren't really supposed to be with that guy that didn't ask for a pickle and rarely bought beverages to go with his sandwiches? In 20 years, what will plague your mind? Will it be thoughts of your job or your kid's futures, or will it be how different your life could be if you'd just dismissed your fiancé with no explanation and gone with me to Carabbas, my treat? I know it sounds crazy but I think I represent something for you. I think I have something to offer - a way out. The chance to keep the ball rolling and start again.
I'm relatively sure you wouldn't regret it. Please let me know.
Respectfully,
---
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