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.