WilmingSloan

My Last, Last Post

2008-07-30T23:56:00.002-04:00

Just dropping a final note to say my newest blog may be found at www.raleightivity.blogspot.com

Drop on in and leave me some comments. I love them comments.

Love you guys,
Nathan

Formula for Foes of the Far East

2008-05-10T20:15:00.007-04:00

Graduating and the Great Beyond...

I think I still have a few loyal readers of this blog. Thanks guys, for caring enough to check back periodically and see me give proof that higher education does not a perfect writer make. We've laughed, we've cried - OK, maybe I was the only one doing those things, but you got to read about me doing them, and the fact that you did counts for something.

College is over now. Today I went to my big, school-wide graduation ceremony first and then made my family follow me from Trask Colliseaum over to Kenan Auditorium where my Film Studies departmental graduation was held. It was a exactly what I was expecting - but, curiously, it was totally different from anything I'd experienced before. I'm not talking about a new experience in the same way as your first frozen chocolate banana or the first time you wrapped your face in plaster of paris to make a life-cast of your head for special effects modeling purposes (what, you guys never did that???). It's more like making a memory - where you know exactly what it's going to feel like when you play it back in your head later, but you know while you're in the middle of it that it really feels very little like that memory upon which you'll rely. I'm probably not making much sense. I guess I felt something impress upon me but the effects of that impression are yet to be seen. In much the same way, the effect of college on the whole is yet to be seen, but I suppose it will make itself apparent in the coming years.

In any case, I'm now a former student of the University of North Carolina Wilmington and to sum the whole thing up, it was a really good time. I dealt with zoo creatures, learned how to be a student for the first time, made friends, lost friends, fell in love, was hurt by love, hung out with the wrong people on occasion but hung out with the right ones far more often. I tried new things and relied on old, sturdy foundations. I ate far too much ramen, hauled tons of dirty clothes around to the wash, flirted with strangers, felt independent, and above all, learned. I learned a whole, whole lot - twice as much outside of the classroom as in, but still a heck of a lot more in them than I did in the 13 years prior.

Sound familiar? It should. Maybe you didn't go to college, or maybe you did, but your ate nutritious food or didn't have to deal with your roommates terrarium full of creatures. Those are just details. My college story has no dramatic twist, heroic score, or blockbuster appeal - but it does have a spectacular ending. It's an ending where I've come to realize that we're all connected in a lot of ways. We all have the same experiences, more or less, and that's not at all a bad thing. I came here expecting the most unique four years in the history of undergraduate careers, and I'm leaving with the knowledge that it doesn't often end up the way we imagined it would. I'm thankful for that. At the risk of sounding cheesier that the dairy drawer of my fridge (which is very cheesy, indeed) this has been a beautifully typical coming of age story, and it's just as much yours as it is mine.

...

Now for the next big thing.

I'll probably post on here one more time with the address of a new site where some of my stuff can be found. I may or may not start up a new blog. To anyone who eventually reads this post, thanks for stopping in. I'll leave all the old posts up and available in the archives menu on the right as long as blogger will allow. To anyone who cares, it has been good for me to write, and I appreciate the comments and your reading my banter. God bless you all.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo. (grammatically correct sentence consisting of only one word. Look it up. I learned it in college)

FarewellmingSloan

2008-05-09T09:46:00.003-04:00

Not quite what I expected...

I was planning on having a ridiculous, multi-paged send-off for this blog since it will be defunct as of Sunday, but with the hectic schedule that I've had, and graduation happening and everything, it's been next to impossible to find time to sit down and write a novel about WilmingSloan and all of college. Instead, I'll write a sad (bittersweet) little story about something that just happened to me that I think sums up my sentiments toward leaving pretty well. If you want ridiculous, light-heartedness - I'll try to bring it along to my final post after Graduation. I've not been in the cheeriest moods as of late because all of my non-graduating friends (including my roommates) have all booked it out of town so I'm left sitting here alone, waiting for my parents.

So I was out on a date the other night and and I was pulling in to drop her off when I came upon a girl being pushed around in a shopping cart. It just so happens that this girl in the shopping cart was a friend of ours, one who lived in Schwartz, my old dorm, on the third floor. I had talked to her about visiting before I graduated just for old times sake, and so the timing was just too perfect, she let us in.

I had forgotten about the whole necessity of signing your guests in at the desk. What a hassle. While that was going on I just looked around at everything, it was so weird. It was like I had entered a time capsule and I was back in my sophomore year. Everything looked the same (sans banana in the elevator ceiling grate) and the kids up stairs in the common room were even watching Star Wars on the big TV - something I'm pretty sure happened a good deal when I was there. Oh! The countless hours of television I watched and Halo 2 I played on that TV back in the day.

I went back to 314 and just stood there. The door was locked because the kid living there had moved out already. I wanted to open it pretty badly - and find Brett Roach on the other side eating a can of peanuts or standing on his computer chair with a banana in his hand. I even wanted to hear the squeaking of those stinking annoying rats of his. If not Roach, I wanted Devin Dimattia to be there, sitting at his desk with his giant iPod shuffle headphones next to him, reading some obscure music blog that told him all of the latest info on random stuff that no one else cared about. I went to the water fountain down the hall and laughed at the sign the current RA had posted above it "If the fountain is clogged it is because some of you are using it to brush your teeth in. Stop this or you will be fined." Though worded a little differently, this is the same sign that Bob had over it when I was there. I walked past the mysteriously loud buzzing utility closet at the end of the hall and through the stairwell to the girls pod where I spent so much time with my friends. Laura and Lauren's room, Amelia and Lindsay's room, Caroline and Amanda's room - going back there almost affected me more than my own pod. I miss these kids, and whereas they were simply on the other side of the stairwell, now I'll likely never see them again.

The worst was when I went back into the common room. There my friend showed me where they had hung the canvas that the 05-06 residents had painted their names on. She pointed my name out to me before I could find it, painted in green and surrounded in red. Everywhere else were the names of distant memories, some fond and others not. Right next to mine, of course, was the purple paint of Caroline's signature. Then I remembered exactly where we were sitting when we painted it - at the corner of the common room. I messed up on mine and had to cover it up with the red paint, then she picked her favorite color and squashed her name in next to mine, in spite of the lack of room around it.

I miss my first two years at college because they were fun. I never worried about the future in those years, it was all about enjoying what I had and getting through the work in front of me. I had a lot of good friends and even more good memories with them. Schwartz, the building, represents that time for me. My college career can easily be split into two separate experiences - underclassman and upperclassman - both with a completely different flavor. My later experiences have been pretty great too, just very different. Going to Schwartz allowed me to visit some of the underclassman experiences that I had carefully pushed under the rug, and unearthing them was good for me.

You always hear old-timers talk about wishing they could go back for just one week, or even one day. I can sympathize, so I guess that makes me an old-timer. It would be nice to lay awake at night and have a philosophical discussion with Roach - or watch an old chick flick with the girls (though I hated it then), even to read the stupid poetry and writing on the bathroom stalls again and just KNOW that I was still there - that I still had time to be young and in college and soak up the experience. It would be nice.

But what I have is nice. And what I'll have in a year will be nice too, God willing. I will miss this campus so much, but what I really miss has long-since left me - transferred out to other schools, graduated and moved-on, or simply faded away in an apartment on the other side of town. I miss those people and the times we had together. I miss being a college kid.

...

But I'll get over it.

Returning From the Point of No Return

2008-05-07T20:03:00.004-04:00

How Grand Theft Auto Affected me Positively

About a week ago, and quite against my better moral judgement, I purchased for my xbox 360 a game that strikes fear in the hearts of conservative parents everywhere, Grand Theft Auto IV. I think it's horrible that any parent would help their kid get a hold of a game that has some of the mature content that is in this one, but being an adult myself, and being one that enjoys high-speed car chases and shooting automatic weaponry in a virtual New York City, I was able to overcome my own moral fear and enjoy playing it.

What I wasn't expecting, was the positive impact it would have on my life - specifically, my social life. I've never been good about keeping in touch with people, just ask any of my friends (the few that are left after my horrible social skills killed everything). I've started playing this game, though, and the way it works it that you have to build up relationships with certain characters in order to get special benefits from them (free taxi, reduced price guns and ammo, etc). This means answering text messages and phone calls and hanging out with people when they want to hang out.

After ignoring some of the characters, and subsequently watching them drop out of my virtual-life, it got me thinking about how miserable I am at keeping in touch with friends in my real one. In just the past week I have made sure to keep in touch with everyone that I mean to keep in touch with and so far, it seems to be working.

So to all those news columnists that love to trump the evils of the GTA franchise, let me just say, "HA!" For responsible adults that can handle playing the game and its mature content, there can even be a good lesson or two in there.

Steak is delicious. Steak and cheese-even more delicious.

To Consume and Entire Stick of Butter

2008-04-26T14:23:00.002-04:00

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!

Zero Bar (Has My Vote)

2008-04-24T15:22:00.004-04:00

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)

Animated Grilled Cheese Sandwich Kills Hundreds in Buffalo

2008-04-15T07:21:00.002-04:00

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

Ladle Me This

2008-04-14T22:40:00.005-04:00

... 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.

SHA-MA-LLAMA

2008-04-14T18:06:00.002-04:00

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

Small Spaces

2008-04-12T17:35:00.002-04:00

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.

Spicy Chicken Burrito = Amazing

2008-04-07T20:14:00.003-04:00

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

Then Steve Danced His Way to Freedom

2008-04-02T10:36:00.003-04:00

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,
---

MySpace Blog

2008-03-28T12:56:00.004-04:00

I just wrote a rather insightful post on my myspace blog. Since it is intended for a myspace audience, I'll just direct you over there rather than copying it here.
Myspace Blog

Cheers!

Data Entry Specialist

2008-03-27T14:03:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I got "fitted" for my cap and gown. I put "fitted" in quotation marks because the only question they ask you is how tall you are. Comforting. Gowns are now one-size-fits-all pieces of silky fabric. Graduation gowns are like higher-class ponchos that are only useful for one day. I think that schools should lessen the pomp in graduation ceremonies and give graduating students authentic, colorful ponchos that might actually be of some use after commencement. Imagine a ceremony where the esteemed scholars look a little less like esteemed scholers and a little more like a crowd of vacant-minded wanderers at a flea market.
They didn't even bother to take my cap size, so I guess they're taking advantage of the magic of elastic bands. This means that 50% of the graduates will be comfortable during the ceremony, and 50% will feel their heart beating at their temples for 45 minutes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, maybe I have the ideal collegiate head.

Etamology of the word "Tidal." Al was the god of keeping the water at a particular point. When Jupiter tied Al up for attempted theft of Mercury's winged sandles, they began to change. Thus, tidal patterns.

Sobriety Test for School

2008-03-10T09:32:00.003-04:00

When in the seat of a nation...

So, I was on my way to D.C. a few days ago (awesome trip, btw) and I get a call from my friend Matt while I'm still on the train.

"Dude, I've got to tell you what happened to me this afternoon because its too funny," he said.

"Ok," I said, "go for it."

"Ok, I went to McDonalds at work today to pick some food for Boone and the funny thing about the McDonald's drive through in Benson is that if you tune it to 101.5, you can hear the conversations between the person taking the order and the customer."

"Wait," I said, "So you can just tune in a listen to what they're saying?"

"Yeah"

"How did you figure this out?" I asked.

"Oh, I've known about it for years," he said, "sometimes it comes through so clear you can hear what other people are saying inside the McDonalds.

"Wow, that's special."

"Yeah," he continued, "so I was in line and I hear this black dude come on to place his order and he does it just like this: (yelling) I want a double cheeseburger, no pickles, no onions - this is how it's goin' down!"

I laughed

"Yeah, man," he said, "he did NOT want his order wrong."

...

I don't think print does this story justice, but trust me, it was funny.

Silk worms are the most glamorous of all the worms.

A Vegetarian Who Dreams in Hamburgers

2008-02-27T18:26:00.002-05:00

A great escape.

In response to my last ridiculously long post I thought I might lighten things up with a briefer one. I'm planning on leaving the great town of wilmington tomorrow night and heaving-ho for new territory for spring break. Friday morning me and Jeff will leave my house and head out to Raleigh where will we catch an Amtrak train to Washington DC. There we will stay for 3 nights in a Double Tree hotel - taking in the sights and sounds of our nations' capital. On the third of March we'll take our return train home. At this point about 80% of my trip money will be spent, but only about 30% of our spring break antics will have happened. We'll wake up early on the 4th and head down I-95 to Charleston, SC, stopping only briefly for a break in-between at South of the Border. After a day in SC's only legitimatly cool city, we'll head back north through Myrtle Beach (beat up Las Vegas) and stay the night in Wilmington. On the morning of the 5th there is a very good chance that we'll pick up a new companion, Jacob, and head north up the coast to the oldest town in NC, Bath. We'll spend the night there at Jeff's place, then wake up early on the 6th and take the ferry over to Oakcracoke Island. We'll spend the rest of the day on either Oakcracoke or Hatteras, then spend the night at a campground in our tent. Then next morning (the 7th) we'll head up to Kitty Hawk and possibly the Great Dismal Swamp. After that fun-filled day it will be back south to Bath where we'll spend another night before heading for Wilmington and the end of our spring break antics on the 8th.

Ok, get this. I have about $130 (after the cost of the train and the hotel) to get them through this entire week. Anything that costs money like sights in DC, South of the Border, DC Metro rides, ect. has to be balanced between needing to feed myself at least twice a day. Add to that the fact that I'd really like to buy some pack film for my camera and you have a pretty crazy situation. I don't really care, I'd go hungry for a couple of days to experience a week like this where I really don't have to worry about anything but having fun. I think it's going to be great. The best part is I'm taking a paper journal with me so I'm going to have it all recorded and I'll be sure to post some stuff here when I get back.

Arrivederci!

The Tyrant King and the Princess of Easy-listening

2008-02-23T09:42:00.004-05:00

In the den of the godless heathens

This has been a busy, but very interesting week. Every day it has been cold, the way it should be in February, and I have had to deal with going from freezing cold to "surface of the sun" every time I walk into a building on campus. I immediately strip off my coat and/or sweaters because it's so hot in there, I'll pass out if I don't. I have a theory about the school's central heating system. I think they have a dragon that they hit with a mallet to induce fire-breathing and warm the campus. I bet he's a pretty grumpy fellow.

Speaking of fire breathing, that leads me to my next topic - kind of. Before I get to that I must first go back to Thursday. I was walking though campus commons with a couple of friends before my 12:30 class and in the middle of the commons in a big circle were some protesters who were saving the campus trees. Apparently UNCW has decided to cut out a large swath of our campus' 200 acre pine forest to put up a parking garage and new dorm. UNCW is host to the largest patch of pine forest still standing in the city of Wilmington. Naturally, the hippies are upset. Well, I heard that they were cutting almost all of them down, which irritated me, so when my friend suggested we join them, I thought - what the heck.

Let me just say it right now - it feels really great to walk up to a group of protesters and hear their cheers and cries of support as you join their feeble but growing cause. I can honestly say that I now understand why so many people make it their life's work to be activists for so many different causes. In a moment I felt like a stately lion that would devour the jackal of corporate school government. I felt the swelling of my pride - pride that I was one of the few that cared enough to stand for such a noble cause. More than anything, I felt like I really mattered to someone.

It may have been 15 seconds after I sat down, 30 at the most, when I realized that I had made a terrible mistake.

"HAVING CLASS IS NO EXCUSE FOR MISSING A WALK-OUT! JOIN OUR PEACEFUL PROTEST," said the red-bearded fellow who was apparently in charge of everything, "GOING TO CLASS DEFEATS THE PURPOSE, THIS IS A WALK-OUT!"

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!" is all that ran through my head. I had 20 minutes before my American Romanticism class started and there was a paper due in it. There was no way I was skipping that class to shout crudely at passers-by in support of the UNCW forest people. Suddenly, all those feelings of pride, self congratulation, and acceptance came flooding back on me in the horrifying light of knowing I was going to have to stand up and very obviously walk away from all of them in a matter of minutes. The red-bearded fellow kept repeating himself, and every time he said his bit I felt a little queasier. I didn't know how I was going to survive walking away to the jeering and social ridicule that I was sure to get. I had become the protester's arch-nemesis. I was the protester light.

I rocked back and forth like a crazy person as I devised a plan for leaving that involved waiting until someone coughed loudly and tearing off to the southeast. This, I decided, would be a fruitless effort since we were sitting in a circle and some of them would see me no matter what. At some point a funky looking girl with a scarf on her head came over to my friend and I with a piece of art paper paper and some oil paints. On the paper people had already painted several trees.

"We're painting a forest to show the school," she said with a smile, "you can paint a tree and then just pass it around."

I waited as my friend painted her tree. All around me the circle erupted into the chant, "Ain't no power like the power of the people, 'cause the power of the people don't stop (say what?)." They switched between that one and my preferred chant, "Save our trees!"

I wish more of my friends and family could have been there. It was wonderful - I was completely out of my element and I was totally cool with it (aside from the whole having to betray them within 15 minutes part). I lifted my voice and clapped my hands and let the world know that we were serious. I painted a colorful little tree on the paper and thought about how these people were an impassioned group of people that I had spent my entire life boxing up - never dealing with. As a general rule, protesters had annoyed me. I thought of them as whiners for the sake of whining and now I was adding my personal touch to their fruity little painting. I was planting my tree in their forest. Who knew?

Walking out on a walk-out is a pretty miserable experience - I wouldn't recommend it. They turned out to be more lenient than I had imagined. The only thing I heard as I walked away was, "You're scaring them away, dude," which I assume was addressed to the red-bearded fellow. Yeah, I left, but it wasn't out of fear of anything other than failing a paper that I had worked my butt off on.

Now let's jump to last night. I'm in a senior seminar class for film where our one project for the entire semester is to film a documentary on something. My group chose this odd place in Wilmington that all of us had been to a few times, but none of us really understood. It's a hookah bar (hookahs are the weird pipes that the caterpillar smoked in Alice in Wonderland) on Castle street. The place is, quite literally, nuts. There are fire-eaters, poets, comedians, dancers, any just about anyone else you might imagine. The decor is all homemade art and found furniture that has been redecorated to suit their purposes. They serve food, but until yesterday I had never tried it, (I recommend "The Beast" grilled pita, because it's delicious). The people who work there are varied and interesting. They sometimes wear funky hats, always wear funky cloths and they all have nicknames that sound like comic book villains. One day the manager was wearing a confederate civil war jacket - now that's what I call projecting an effective middle-management image. When you first come into that place, if you're like me, you wonder how long you're going to last with the weirdoes in there. In the process of making this film, however, I've found them to be some of the coolest and nicest people I've met in Wilmington. They're all about the arts and it seems like one of their biggest missions is to give an outlet to anyone who does anything, and I do mean ANYTHING. While we were interviewing the owners we caught wind of a bellydancing showcase that was going to happen, and thats why we showed up last night with our camera.

We got the equipment set up and, little by little, the tiny cafe filled to capacity. Old people, young people, people in polos and people in purple sport coats with berets. In my comfortable little Bible-belt life, I've scarcely been exposed to such diversity, and certainly not all in one place. Techno middle-eastern music blasted through the place, filling it with a type of energy you almost have to feel to understand. The only light in the whole place came from dim can lights at the front and decorative hanging lamps the were almost randomly scattered throughout the bar area. I watched from my high up perch on a homemade seating platforms as the shadowy mass of a group of marines melded into a mass of middle-aged hipsters behind them, which melded into the rest of the crowd seamlessly. It was really strangely beautiful.

The belly dancers came out one by one, each performing to their own song and clothed in traditional belly dance garb. It was pretty amazing to watch. One of the owners was dancing and she balanced a saber on her head while spinning around, tell me that isn't impressive. My favorite part was when they introduced the live middle-eastern drum team and let them go crazy until the dancers came out with finger symbols. You can't even begin to imagine how cool it sounded and looked. They finished their set, we took down our equipment, and off we went.

On the way home I kept thinking about how I felt about the place the first time I came there. It's curiously located away from downtown in the middle of a low-rent, mostly African-American neighborhood. As a middle-class white kid from the whitest school in the southeast, I was a bit shook up about going there. I imagined all sorts of scenarios involving guns and dead comic book villains and stolen hookahs. I remember thinking the place looked dirty and poorly put together. Of course, the biggest thing I remember was thinking about how much I didn't fit in - how this was a place for the strange and outcast and I traveled through it like a preppy tourist at a freak-show theme park. Soon I could tell all of my preppy friends about it and sound cultured and cool. I don't belong here - really? Then, where do I belong?

Well, from what I've been taught I must belong in a white, middle-class neighborhood about 4 blocks from the school and 2 blocks from the church. I should have 2.5 kids and eat breakfast with them before I head out to work. My wife will take them to school in the SUV and before she comes back home to her interior decorating business and I work a 9-5 to pay the bills. We all put in our time where its needed in a safe and productive and comfortable manner. This includes God, you know. We put in our time with God like we put in our time at the office. An hour on Sunday, and hour and a half on Wednesday, maybe another hour at small group and, what the heck, throw in 30 minutes of "quiet time" each day. This makes a well-balanced life of ... well, it makes a well balanced life of mediocrity.

Do we really believe that Christ called us to be comfortable and safe in our suburban holes? I know this isn't a new idea to any of you that have been in Church or gone on fabulous campus ministry retreats at camps. This is something that we talk about but that we so rarely take the opportunities to experience. Not even our mission trips really provide up with a opportunity to broaden our horizons much because we make them trips, not lifestyles. There is spiritual warfare out there - in our towns - and we should be in the middle of it, fighting for the cause of Christ. We have an obligation to love and serve everyone, everywhere, regardless of our comfort level in their presence. Truth be told, I feel more comfortable stretching my horizons with new people than sitting in my apartment with CCF buddies because if I sit stagnant long enough, I feel useless.

I thought about this and how the people I've been with this week are the so-called "enemies of the gospel." The hippies that fight for free love and dirty drugs and life experience and the freaks of the gutters, the people who band together in certain spots to feel that they fit in with someone. These aren't our enemies. Their lifestyles can't do anything to us that we don't let them do. These are our friends that we've been neglecting. Even if we never get the chance to have that amazing spiritual dialogue that could prove life-altering, these are the people that Jesus talked about being there for. The people we're supposed to listen to and understand and love - the people that we've been told for so long are our enemies.

When I think about how I would have missed that belly dancing show, I get pretty sad. I don't get sad because the show was awesome (even though it was) but what really sucks is the reason I would have missed it. If I hadn't had that project I would have had plenty of reasons for dismissing it and missed out on that beautiful little nugget of life and on meeting those people because of my fear and discomfort with the area. I still have a long way to go because the Juggling Gypsy and the tree people are both tame compared to the worlds real challenges, but I hope this is a start for me in the right direction that keeps on rolling.

So that was my week. Pretty productive and pretty fun. Next week I'm going to DC!

Dictionary, Dictionary

2008-02-19T01:29:00.003-05:00

I'm tired.

I bought a new sleeping bag for the trip to Camp Dixie this weekend. This sleeping bag is amazing. It's rated to 0 degrees and it's a mummy bag. I doubt that I'll ever be out in the wild in 0 degrees, but it's still nice to know you have the safety net just in case. I have discovered that there are few better feelings in life that cuddling up in a warm sleeping bag when it's cold all around you. I'd almost go camping for that feeling - when you first get in the bag and shiver a few times and you feel the heat getting trapped as you generate it.

I'm not psychotic, I promise.

Also, this weekend, I had an epiphany. I'm not talking about a "marketable new manifestation of cheese" type of epiphany, more like a spiritual epiphany. See, when I go to church or talk about church in any kind of group setting, I always get this feeling like something just isn't settling right. I know that the gears in my head have been turning, but I've never really let them turn before. Well, after one of our breakout sessions, I grabbed a notebook and went off on it. I don't know if I really figured anything out, but it sure feels like I did, so I'm going to just assume that I'm a genius.

Actually, it was really good stuff (in my biased opinion), stuff that people needed to hear because I'm sure almost every Christian would agree with me. I could write a book about it and get some charismatic person to lead a movement and RAH RAH RAH! But then I realized that I had to check some sources and read up on it a little more. Turns out that there is a book that looks like it's pretty much about what I was thinking. It's called Irresistible Revolution and it's on my short list of books to read. I'll let you guys know what I think of it when I'm done.

I had a conversation this weekend with a couple of random girls about why I wore shower shoes at places like that to avoid getting foot fungus. Of course, I forgot my shower shoes, and the next day after my shower I started thinking about it. Now I'm laying in my bed typing and as I do so, my left big toe is itching. Gulp.

Maybe I am crazy.

Falsehoods and Fiberboard

2008-02-14T01:00:00.002-05:00

Out of Gas.

I think I owe you an apology. No, this isn't a directed post to that guy that I kind of slammed the door into at Morton the other day, although if you're reading this, dude, I'm sorry. No, I owe this blog an apology. I don't know what's gotten into me - like an overconfident band with a hit first album and a series of follow-up-flops, I've just been giving my sub-par ideas the stage for a really long time. So, I'm pretty sure I've made it a habit to say something every few posts about how crappy my writing has gotten but this post isn't to apologize and keep on moving, same as always. This time I think I've found a solution, let me break it down for you.

I think every creative endeavor needs a driving force. When I first started this blog my writing had a spark like a crunched Wint-O-Green lifesaver in pitch darkness (yes, they spark, please try it for yourself). The force that drove that spark in my writing was being in a new place with new people all around me and experiencing new things. I didn't think twice about putting everything out there and a lot of it, though poorly written as far as spelling and grammar, was really just cool. I didn't care, it had spirit even if it was dumb.

I guess what I'm saying is there is this intangible something that is just there, and you can feel it there when you're writing and when you're reading someone else's stuff. It's there in music and paintings and all other creative endeavors, I don't know how to describe it other than the spark of life to the piece. So here is how I'm getting it back. I have a friend who is also a writer and just like C.S. Lewis had his J.R.R. Tolkien, we're going to use each other to push our way into inspiration. Well, thats the plan anyway. Hopefully this will prove to be the way to a fuel up.

Something smells like burnt hair.

Lovely Day...

2008-02-12T11:21:00.000-05:00

Allergies...who needs 'em?

Can I just say I have the most confusing semester for learning professor names ever? I have three professors in a row on Tuesday's and Thursday's...their names? Bushman, Berman, Boren. I constantly forget which one I'm dealing with at any particular moment. I'm in Berman (david)'s class right now and since I just finished putting together a lovely pointless excel spreadsheet for my project grade, I'm killing some time. It looks like he's wandering around a bit so I'm going to make this a very brief rant.

Solidarity, my allergic brothers and sisters! I never had much problem with my allergies until I was a teenager. Around that time, dogs and cats really made me sneezy and teary eyed. It wasn't that bad, I still forced my way through it for the benefit of petting fuzzy animals, but here lately it's getting ridiculous. I can scarce spend 20 minutes in my friend Jacob's house without his cat, Ninja, causing me to tear up a bit. Add to that the fact that Ninja is FLIPPIN' CRAZY and claws you without warning and I start developing big swollen welts at the sight of claw infliction. After all I've done to be supportive to cats...thats the thanks I get.
So all this culminates in a trip to a friends apartment two weeks ago. I hadn't seen these two people in years, so it wasn't at all a "formal" meeting, but I couldn't exactly be 100% my normal self because most of the evening was spent catching up on the past 3 years. Well, to make a long story short, they order a pizza about the same time I feel my throat closing up. Naturally, having never experienced this before, I began to panic slightly. Being the moron that I can occasionally be, instead of excusing myself immediately, I decided to just hang out and wait for the pizza. Let me tell you, if that pizza had been any less greasy, there is no way it would have made it down my nearly asphyxiated esophagus. Finally, I decided I could take no more and excused myself at the same time another old friend showed up - thereby giving them a complex, no doubt.

I love the kitties, but my autoimmune system sure don't.

Zeake the Plumber

2008-01-31T01:07:00.000-05:00

Nostalgia Pal...
...gia?

I have a lot to look forward to. No, really, I believe that. I know there are places I'm going to see, people I'm going to meet, and (possibly) a family to start of my own - all of which sounds fantabulous, In spite of all of this, I came to a realization today and it didn't exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Many of the moments in my life that I'll remember as my happiest, could have already come and gone.

I could be dead wrong, and I hope I am, but I really think it's true. I don't know if anyone else experiences this, but every once in a while I am hit with a somewhat random, intense bout of what I can only call "nostalgia." It's like one of those crystalizing flashbacks where everything sort of moves in slow motion and you can almost smell, taste, see, and in every other way relive a snippet of your past. It's almost enough to make you want to cue a dramatic swell in music - Lord help me if music ever coincidentally swells up during one of these because I'll think I've lost it.

So, today I'm walking by the library and I walk over this one step that's kind of stained green from the rain runoff. BOOM. I look up and I see the student center - which wasn't there at all when I came here for orientation - and I am almost instantly back in the old Hawk's Nest. I used to go there all the time for supper. I remember the pizza there - it was overpriced but really good. I'd get pizza and sometimes chips and sometimes (because I'm crazy) I'd put balsamic vinegar on my pizza. It was something I only tasted there, only for this brief window of time in my life. If it's possible to get choked up over pizza, I think I almost did. What I wouldn't give sometimes to go back to a random Thursday of my Freshman or Sophomore years. Talk to all of my old friends that I rarely see anymore. Go to those same lame basic studies classes, taste that pizza that I can't even get now.

I remember when I was 18, I kind of knew I was on top of the world. I think I've figured out why it feels so awesome to have just graduated high school. In high school you get progressively cooler the older you get. 18 years old is the climax, then you go to college and begin getting less cool the older you get. All of the sudden your birthday comes and you feel just a teeny tiny bit less excited to have a bigger number. I imagine this just gets more noticeable the more numbers you add. I used to wonder why old people didn't have birthday parties like young people - HA! My Freshman and Sophomore years were wonderful for one major reason - I didn't worry about life. For that period of time I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing, where to be, and I enjoyed it. I enjoy the music I used to listen to in my car, the old janitor man in Schwartz, picking Roach and his rodent friends up from the gas station late at night, walking in the rain from the back parking lot... even the stuff I hated, I love, and that which I loved, I will never forget.

So maybe I'm just a loser that's getting too "old" too fast. I'm 21 for crying out loud! I think it's like this for me because it isn't far enough away yet. One day my true memories will be replaced by placeholder memories, memories of memories. Everyone compartmentalizes to save space in the old noggin'. When that happens I'll remember the things that have been most important to me, but everything else will fall into the fuzzy pink blur that I'll generalize as a positive experience. One day, without thinking, I'll probably lean over to some young whipper-snapper and whisper in their ear,

"You have fun now, ya hear. These are going to be the best days of your life."

For their sake, I hope they don't believe me. I don't want to spoil it for them.

I Smell Crazy in the Air

2008-01-22T01:07:00.000-05:00

Poe-dunk

It's brutal honesty time. I just had a Sloanin Holiday. That is a word I made up for a day in which I didn't leave the apartment at all. These days are few and far between. The occasion? Well, I have every Monday off but apparently everyone else was off today too - Martin Luther King Jr., you know. Here is the part were I tell you the really embarrassing details so I can wonder why I told you later.

I woke up at 10. I checked email and ate some eggs that Jefe scrambled. I then read some. I played video games. I got online again. I researched the history of grenades for no good reason. I read a lot more. I wrote up a resume and did some career planning (not really, I just daydreamed about it). Then Jefe made pasta - I ate it. I read some more (this time Edgar Allen Poe for my Romanticism class) and then looked up some info on a possible spring break trip. Somewhere in there I hooked up the internet to my xbox and played Halo online for the first time in months. Most recently I caught up on some internship stuff and now I'm right back in the same exact position I was in at 10 this morning. By same exact I mean EXACT. I didn't go out so, naturally, I didn't take a shower. And since I didn't take a shower, why would I change out of my pajamas, right? So that's the way it's been, one of those days. Thankfully, I've gotten enough done to feel a little productive, but tomorrow comes early so I better get some rest and recover from this brutal day so I can actually freshen up a bit before class in the morning.

Heres to Sloanin Holidays!

Sausage. Wrapped in Pancake. On a Stick.

2008-01-10T12:11:00.000-05:00

I wonder if they clean the keyboards in the computer lab, ever.

I sat down in here today to waste time before my 12:30 “American Romanticism” class. You may know it better by its street name, “I hate my life 101.” That’s a bit harsh and prejudicial, I haven’t even been there yet, but you can imagine my excitement to find out. So far I’ve had two classes and on Tuesday/Thursday they are all three in a row. My first class, something about ethics in writing – a senior seminar, was over in a hot 30 minutes. My second one, Computer Science 105 (yes, I will finally learn how to use those Interwebs!) was also let out early after just 30 minutes. Five dollars says that my last one – the only one that I could use the early release from – will go the whole hour fifteen.

This keyboard looks really clean. I’m watching the two “lab technicians” right now. They’re chatting quietly, only looking up occasionally to swipe someone’s card and give them a computer. Oops, one of them just left. I used to want to do this. You can beat sitting at a computer, surfing the net and doing homework for 5 hours and getting paid for it. My old roommate, Roach, got a job at the lab in Schwartz before it closed down. Every once in a while I’d stop over to see how he was doing. When it was time to close up they had some sort of ritual that they went through but I was never interested enough to stay and find out what it entailed. Hopefully they really do clean the keyboards. I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen people cough, sneeze, and pick their nose and then handle this equipment. I’m not a germaphobe but now that I think about it that’s pretty gross.

My documentary class on Wednesdays is in the recently remodeled Kenan Hall where I took Silent and Modern film classes in the most uncomfortable classroom in the world. I can see the little name on the side of it through the window in front of me. I like what they’ve done with the place since they kicked the theater and fine art hippies out and let us film kids in there. Smells a lot better now, anyway. My one complaint is that the new tables the film department put in are large rolling tables that, quite frankly, get on my last nerve. I have a tendency to put my feet on the rail underneath them and found myself apologizing to the bearded fellow next to me quite a few times for scooting his desk away from him.

I’m going to go ahead and make my way back to Morton so I can get a good seat before all the goody students show up early and take them. Here’s hoping I learn something exciting and new in Romanticism and …oh, who am I kidding? I just hope it’s an easy A.

…aaaand I just sneezed on the keyboard.

(just kidding)

New Yeah!!!

2008-01-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

Happy 2008

I just looked over my blog and saw that the entirety of 2007 saw just 32 posts from yours truly. In looking over those posts I couldn't help but notice that my writing over the past few years has lost that little spark that it had when I first started this blog. I was over at my brother-in-law's myspace blog (which I would link you to if he didn't have it privacy protected) and it was cool to see the kind of energy and, well, decent writing that goes into and comes out of a new blog with a new blogger.

Last year I made a few predictions and almost none of them came true. Kind of depressing. You know what else is kind of depressing? Knowing that you're going to graduate in a little over 4 months and not knowing what you're going to do after that. I've always told myself something to the effect of "Oh, don't worry about it Nathan. Something will magically fall into your lap when the time comes." Well, the time has come and my lap is lacking. In light of this, I've compiled a list of "Top Jobs" that I'd love to have right out of college. If you, or anyone you know can get me one of these jobs, please contact me as soon as possible.

Glob-trotting Super-Spy Other spies may globe-trot, but they're doing it for some pansy reason, like for their country or their secret service or something. I'm talking about I want to be a super-spy and just do it because I'm that much of a bad @$$. I mean, I'd be willing to pass my info along to an employer but most of the time you'd just do your stuff freelance. I'd be like the male Carmen San Diego, and people would constantly be asking where in the world I was.

Dunder-Mifflin Associate Salesman If you don't know why I want this job, you just aren't "with it." Down with the BIG BOX PAPER SUPPLIERS!

Rock Star I'm still working on this one. Just wait until about 2011 and I'll have a hot album out. Then people will pour in to see me play live. I'll probably have my own version of Guitar Hero. It'll be called "Guitar Hero: The Sloan Chronicles (Note: no one can actually be as heroic as Nathan Sloan)"

Photo-Journalist I'd go all over the world taking pictures of pandas and other endangered wildlife. Probably take pictures of people getting killed and sharks jumping out of the water and stuff. Then I'd write up articles to go with my amazing photography where I showed how deep and intellectual I was and make other people cry as they realize how meaningless their lives are.

Magazine Guru As a head writer/editor for major magazine(s) I would effectively decide what was popular and what wasn't. Who was cool, and who wasn't. How to live, and how not to. I would have an enormous amount of influence and thus, power - but no one would know my name. I would live a prisoner to my own amazing existance and everywhere I went I would be forced to see people I've influenced walk by me without recognition. Then I would sell the rights to my life story for upwards of $30 million and attend the movie premier at age 35.

Filmmaking Guru Basically the same as above, but I do it with films instead of magazines, everyone knows me and I just keep the rights to my story and direct/star in the film myself.

Whip Braider I want to work alongside the greats like David Morgan (before he dies) and that other guy (I forgot his name, but he learned from david morgan) and continue the legacy of fine whip-crafting. I want to make whips like no-other. One day people would buy my whips as accessories to their outfits because they are so amazing. I am willing to apprentice under someone until I get the hang of it. I am also willing to whip it good.

So there you have it. Thats where I'm and and with that being said, I think I'm going to sign off of now. I wish everyone who happens upon this page a very happy 2008.

The fibers of carpet are like little dust magnets and I'm NOT attracted.

Flaunt the Font

2007-12-12T15:22:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-03T21:49:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-12T00:23:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-07T14:56:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-28T12:16:00.000-04:00

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

2007-10-11T00:05:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-09-17T08:57:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-29T09:40:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-21T10:11:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-08T10:18:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-20T12:17:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-07-09T07:46:00.001-04:00

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

2007-06-14T19:26:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-23T14:22:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-12T15:00:00.000-04:00

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...

2007-05-10T13:54:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-05T23:59:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-01T13:25:00.001-04:00

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

2007-04-09T00:35:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-02T19:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-23T22:32:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-15T10:36:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-05T15:09:00.001-05:00

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

2007-02-28T10:54:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-12T21:59:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-06T20:56:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-02T10:43:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-26T01:30:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-18T15:36:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-16T14:53:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-11T12:13:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-03T12:38:00.000-05:00

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

My Saturday Evening Post

2006-12-23T22:17:00.000-05:00

The night before the night before Christmas

All I want for Christmas is a blue hamster...
a blue ball
a bowling ball
a ball python
a ball of snow
a snow cone
a traffic cone
a traffic light
a northern light
a lighthouse
a house party
a party hat
a felt hat
a felt rabbit
a rabbit hole
a hole-in-one
someone
some peace
some help
some friends
some love

Some of that free stuff

Christmas, come on down the chimney
Santa lives in you and in me

Candy McHandy

2006-12-19T23:33:00.000-05:00

When creativity seems to escape me I have but one option. Write a Haiku.

Smell the hot coffee
Water strained through the bean grounds
Caffine does nothing

...dang it. That's what I've got? Seriously, even if I'm creativly deprived that's what I came up with? I'm sorry, I shall do my best to correct this problem.

Sauce...mmmm.

Seven Seeds for Happy People

2006-12-16T23:59:00.000-05:00

Cigarettes and Booze

Today I slept in. Yesterday was my last exam day and I wasn’t sure if I should wait to come home or not. That apartment, heck, Wilmington for that matter, can be a lonely place. I’m really beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t find a way to get some color up on the walls in that room of mine. After a semester of slightly off-white bouncing into my retinas I fear my mind is going slightly off-sane. Obviously, I decided to stay.

My roommate left Thursday. Empty, empty. My morning was a bit surreal. I slept and then my alarm went off. I shut it off and quickly realized that I had no obligation to get up. For a moment I wobbled on one elbow and then let it collapse beneath me.

More sleep.

Sleep has been good to me lately, though my sleeping habits have changed a startling amount this semester. I no longer sleep without waking in the early morning. Every morning my imaginary alarm goes off around 8:30 or 9:00. I usually breath a deep breath, look at the light coming through the window and roll over. For thirty seconds I’ll think the same thing I do every morning. I thank God that I’m alive, I wonder if I should get up. These thirty or so seconds are wonderful, then it hits me. I remember.

This morning I slept again. It was good. I woke up and repeated the process twice before finally stumbling to my feet. It was a very lazy morning. I took a shower and packed everything I knew, or thought I might need. Cameras, cloths, borrowed books and pet projects all found their place in my “college” luggage, (duffle bag and milk crate)It all went inside the mean green-splorer and I came up for one last look around. You know what I’m talking about, the “better not have left my cell charger or toothbrush” round. It felt weird leaving. No one was in the building that I knew, but I felt like I was leaving someone. I didn’t like it at all. I said goodbye to the ladybug on the stairwell window as I walked down, then drove off.

That sun was something else.

It was nearly 70 degrees today! I have a bad feeling about this kind of weather less than 10 days before Christmas. People should not be able to tan in North Carolina on the 16th of December. Who am I kidding, I loved it. Maybe the world is overheating but at least I get to wear short sleeves when I’m outside. When I pulled out of the lot I noticed that everything looked golden, totally washed by the December summer sun. It was pretty.

I pulled up to a pump at the BP next to campus. That is where I met Grover.

“Hey hey hey, my man!”

I couldn’t see him yet but I knew instantly it was a homeless man. Why do they all have the same opening line? I stepped back and looked around the pump. A man, wearing a yellow UNCW shirt just like one of mine, was walking diagonally closer to me with that nervous shuffle step; a step that could so instantly turn into retreat if I told him to buzz off. He wasn’t looking at me but there was no one else around.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked.

“Yeah, man. I’m talking to you. I was wondering, could you help me out?”

I stood in silence for a moment.
“I’m just a homeless man,” he said, “I live back here behind Hardees in a shack with one other man. Most people don’t believe me when I tell them that, I do though. I’ll take you back there to see it if you want to.”

“Nah, that's ok.” I said sheepishly.

He asked me if I was leaving town and told me how he’d like to. He was from Charlotte and had no way of heading back to see his family. I asked him how he ended up in Wilmington and he told me that he just got out of the penitentiary. He couldn’t get a job but was hoping to get some work painting in a couple of weeks. We talked for a while about this, then the pump clicked off in my hand. I gave it a couple of squeezes to the next dollar.

I wanted, for a moment, to take him over to Hardees and get him a burger, but then I decided not to. I didn’t want to insult him, I know there are people out there that really want to get their lives straight after they get out, so I pulled out my wallet.

“I’m a college student,” I said, “I don’t have much money, will three dollars help?”

“Oh yeah, it all helps. Three dollars, that’ll get me, lets see, couple burgers off the 99 cent menu and...Thanks, thank you. You have a good time at home, now.”

He had already stared to turn away when I told him I’d be praying for him and that I hoped it could find a job soon. He nodded his head and told me to do that. His hand had gone into his pocket for something. As he made his way past the front of my car I wished him well once more. He turned his head just enough for me to see the cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You too man,” he said with his back to me, “ And don’t forget to say that prayer for me.”

It was the way he said it. He was laughing at me. He had what he wanted and he didn’t even wait for me to leave before disappearing behind the station door.

I went home.

There was something beautifully wrong with the light from the sun today. It was like snowflakes drifting through a desert sky. Sure it’s not right, but it would still be beautiful. The closer I got to home the more brightly the world around me glowed. I got on 95 and was heading due east, the sun hung low directly behind me. A tractor-trailer passed and the sharp reflection off it’s chrome-like gate caught me off guard. I blinked a few times and took a look around. It was like I was in an old brown photograph that moved. Through the rear-view I saw little flecks of stone in the river of pavement behind me that sparkled like Christmas lights.

Christmas is coming soon. It’s good to be home.

Remington Red-Wild Rocket Ships!

2006-12-14T11:14:00.000-05:00

Some observations...

Paperbacks are a lot easier to read than hardbacks. Why are hardbacks considered so much better? I know that they hold up better but who cares if your book is in pristine condition if it's really uncomfortable to read it? And there there are those little sleeves that put over the covers. I just take those things off. Otherwise I never feel like I'm truly holding the book, it slides from hand to hand all willy-nilly. It's like they made a hard back and thought, it's not papery enough, lets put some easily mangled paper on the outside of it to make it more papery. So much for the handsome hard bound.

I had a Hot-Pocket the other day. Before you grimace in disgust, just know that I, too, grimace in disgust. They were the beef taco variety and what caught my eye was the "Gret Tortilla Taste" emblem stamped on the front. I assume they're talking about the pocket's crust. In any case there was no hint of tortilla taste anywhere in the pocket or outside of it. Instead I got "soggy Hot-Pocket crust taste" which can hardly be described as great. I don't care how I cook a hot-pocket, they always come out steaming at about 1,000,000 degrees F. At this point I'm quite certain that a Hot-Pocket could be considered a weapon of mass destruction.

Why does Wal*Mart have so many check out counters if they're never going to staff them all? I've been to Wal*Mart before when it was peak hours and lines are backed up everywhere, there are still at least half the registers empty. I am left to assume that Wal*Mart's policy is to have that many registers just to spite it's customers who must look at them while waiting in line behind four people who have apparently taken to doing their shopping by decade. Another part of me wants to believe that they are there in case of a widespread emergency so they can bring in more people to staff the emergency registers. I prefer to believe in this one because while I'm waiting, it leaves me to ponder exactly what Wal*Mart would classify as a wide-scale emergency.

What play would go good with Hamlet? I want to make a Hamlet sandwitch.

If Yoga Were a Food, Would it be Dairy?

2006-12-13T19:39:00.000-05:00

Well, well, well. Something familiar is happening all around me but I must admit, this time it feels very different. People are packing up their things and leaving, in quite a hurry too. It's always kind of sad to watch people go. You're friends start to disappear, then acquaintances, and after a while (if you're like me you have to stay the whole exam period) you're left in an empty room whistling and humming Eric Clapton songs to keep yourself company. "I shot the sherriiiiiiif, but I swear it was in self defense..."

So yes, it is different though. This is the first time I've been leaving school and actually felt like something better may come of it. Usually I look on the long winter break as a sort of challenge. You know, how can I avoid family holiday drama and the endless boredom of sitting in an empty house for hours on end type stuff. I have to admit, though, that it is in those lonely hours that much of my best thinking is done. Brainstorms aside, it's generally an awkward time of transition that is both wonderful (seeing the family, Christmas celebrations) and horrible (sleeping until 11 and watching TV for hours). Hopefully I can reap the benefits of several fattening meals while avoiding the general drool-inducing lacklustre of home alonedom.

At least I have something to really look forward to. Next semester. I'm hoping for something exciting. I'm at one of those points in my life where I know either something amazingly good is going to happen, or something awe-inspiringly depressing. On the one had, having the confusing puzzle pieces of a college junior's life all come together would be great, but on the other hand, even if I find out life is going to suck for me, I'm sure I'll find comfort in knowing that I don't have to wonder anymore.

Nah, I'm just playing cynical.

I really feel like the growth I've experienced this past year is going to catapult me to new heights of Sloandom. I'll have more time to spend with my small group. I have a church here in Wilmington that I'm excited about getting more involved in. I think I'm going to enjoy my classes, and I know that I'm going to enjoy the extra time that only 15 hours will afford me. I have some hobbies that I plan on getting serious about and some new things I want to try and people I hope to meet (whoever they may be, I'm really hoping for a president of an African country or a champion clogger).

I'll be heading back home this weekend but, for the time being, my heart will stay in Wilmington. In spirit I'll be somewhere between the romantically dim-lit alleyways of downtown, blanketed in thick fog, and the bright morning lights of the Goody-Goody Omelet House. In the spirit of anticipation of a better year and a happy future. God bless you my dear reader(s).

Does the Hamburgler not realize that if he burgled money he could AFFORD hamburgers among other things?

Waffle House Hash Browns (I love you)

2006-12-07T14:29:00.000-05:00

panda McMunch
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Oh Mr. Panda, how endangered you are
at a zoo people come from near and from far
just to see you, and on 9 holes make par

What a symbol you are to your home country
and your diet is made up of skinny bamboo trees
upon which your bear teeth go "munchy munchy"

I hope we don't lose you forever and ever
I'd make a machine and then I'd pull the lever
if it kept you alive, then we'd both feel much better.

I love Panda!

P.S. Happy Birthday Big Sister!

I Like Those Little Birds, You Know the Ones I'm Talking About

2006-12-03T19:13:00.000-05:00

Andre the Christmas Zombie
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Hello there! It's just me again, here for my yearly warning regarding André the Christmas Zombie.

André is a zombie who, unlike his other brethren, rejected Halloween in favor of Christmas. If you're curious as to why, I've included this brief excerpt from his 1966 press statement, which he gave while initial reactions were still heated.

I still respect my colleagues' decisions to stay with our appointed holiday but I feel it is in my personal best interest to dissolve my contract with Halloween and work as an independent agent in Christmas.

Why was it in his best interest, might you be asking? Well, though he's never come out and said it, many speculate that he finds it easier to collect and eat human brains in December when his competition is done for the year. This is certainly plausible considering his current classification as a competitor to Santa Clause in the International Holiday Gift Deliverer Registry (IHGDR). The only other second party registered with them in history was William Howard Taft, who was considering the job briefly before before being nominated for the office of U.S. President in 1908 .

André has managed to get licensed for Christmas deliveries in 3 states and the Dominican Republic. I know what your thinking and yes, one of those states is North Carolina (something to do with a loophole in legislation failing to accurately define what qualifies someone as a "jolly elf"). With NC unable to pass new legislation until 2020, we're going to be stuck with André for a while yet.

The good news is, he's been lazy in recent years. For a while in the mid-80s he went head to head with Santa in his licensed states and territories. Of course the whole "Santa want-to-be" thing is just a gimmick that enables him for him to collect brains more easily. At least 64 separate reports have been filed of brain theft in NC houses and on christmas eve over the past 39 years. Most of the sites had little incriminating evidence that André had been there but witness accounts do seem to agree on a low moaning coming from the chimney moments before the attack took place.

DON'T FAIL TO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY! It is widely believed that André hates the smell of Greek food and photos of Rosie O'Donnel. It is well worth the effort to prepare a Greek feast in your home on Christmas eve and display glossy prints of Rosie at every family members' bedside.

Bacon bacon bacon bacon WHERE!?

Red Fish, Blue Fish

2006-12-01T23:01:00.000-05:00

I have the distinct privilege to have been genetically blighted with a bad lower back. It causes a sharp pain to shoot through my hips and down one of my legs, virtually immobilizing me at times. As such, even the slightest movements, I notice.

I woke up this morning on my standard issue dorm bed and as usual, noticed the loud squeaking of the springs underneath my weight. Lately I've really paid attention to the reality of my body as a hunk of muscle and organ. I mean - it really is just a casing. I know I sound like I'm pushing some basic truth in order to feign philosophical enlightenment but seriously, if you believe it how often do you think about it? There I was, lying on the bed, listening to the weight of my soul's current container cause annoying screeching sounds from a value mattress. I don't know - it was a moment.

We Christians should always make it a point to be aware of how fake this world is. It's all an illusion. As a wise man [sic] once put it, we aren't made of "this crude matter." Who knows what it's like to be free of the skin and bones and thus the gravity that holds us down, makes our joints hurt and our furniture creak? I, for one, can't wait to find out.

God bless

Hand Dipped Goodness

2006-11-30T18:13:00.000-05:00

Today I had one last assignment due for my screenwriting class. I had to write 10 loglines for movie concepts. Loglines are about 2-3 sentences and "sum up" the premise of the movie. I wrote all of these in less than 25 minutes (procrastiNATE)

let me know if there are any you want to see!

A drama about Daniel, who lost his wife in a car crash, and wants to show others the dangers of driving by putting wreaths at random points next to the road. His wreaths evoke emotions and spark conversation and speculation from people driving by.

A comedy about Jack, a rural magician, who dreams of becoming a big Vegas star. He performs at “The Dusty Bowl” bar and is heckled by Ted, a truck driver. Jack must prove to himself that he’s a worthy magician and pull the biggest trick ever on Ted.

A comedy about Peter, a huge George Lucas fan who quits his lucrative job to go on a global hunt. He and his friend Jesse set out for Tunisia Africa where they’ve heard there are still pieces of a plane prop that was destroyed for Indiana Jones.

A thriller about Jordon, a woman with a keen sense for the paranormal who wants to prove to the world that ghosts exist. When an evil scientist shows her a machine that gives ghosts the ability to re-exist physically, she has to escape a haunted battlefield.

A drama about Lindsay, a drug addicted trapeze artist. She falls in love with Daniel, a visiting lion tamer and things look up for her. When Daniel leaves, however, her manager presses her harder than ever and she finds it a struggle to control her life.

A kid’s drama about Cameron, a biologist who is in love with pandas and discovers an isolated group of the endangered animals living wild in north-eastern India. She goes to protect them but gets lost and a family of Pandas finds her and protects her.

A comedy about Stan, a CIA agent who resigns because he hates having to sneak around. He goes to New York and joins a traveling Hip-Hop Dance team. Once they’re on the road, however, he discover the team leader Dameon’s intent to overthrow America.

A musical about Joey, a kid who has to make his way through food group land. On his way the evil candy king trys to stray Joey from the path and make him sick.

A drama about Rex, a truck driver/pirate in the mid-west. Ted is captain of his truck and he and his crew make a living commandeering other trucks on the lonely deserted highways, but now Rex must deal with a mutiny led by his own first mate, Bruce.

A comedy about Cynthia, a plastic surgeon who is known as the best in her field. When she botches up the face of a prominent communist leader, however, she inadvertently starts a war. She has to make things right by foiling the communist’s plans.

Deer Flavored Cream Cheese Anyone?

Cop Killer, Rap Artist, Go Kill Something

2006-11-28T16:55:00.000-05:00

Ahh another overcast day!

Not much to report today BUT just in case you all are wondering I have a Kevin Bacon Raiting of only 3 degrees.

I was in my life with my father
My father was an extra in Billy Bathgate with Dustin Hoffman
Dustin Hoffman was in Sleepers with...oh yes...Kevin Bacon.

I'm going to go to CCF.

So...how about some fresh cut dasies?

Gobble

2006-11-23T22:20:00.000-05:00

The new bond film, Casino Royale, was absolutly fantastic. Ok, it wasn't life-alteringly good, but it was the first bond movie I've seen advertised that I actually wanted to see. It wasn't corny. It goes back to the beginnings of Bond and delivers a cool story. If you're struggling with the decision of what to see this weekend and you like good action movies, you should check it out.

aaaaaaand thats all.

Every day is like a pill...

2006-11-14T16:25:00.000-05:00

Lance Responds
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Before you read this post, please be sure to read this one. Otherwise it loses effect.

Today I heard back from Lance, Inc.'s Consumer Affairs Coordinator, Phil O. Brooks. I'll just copy the letter for you guys below:

Dear Ms. Sloan:

Please accept our apologies for your experience with Lance Cream Cheese with Chives on Captain's Wafers that was missing the filling. We are most concerned to have this report.

This product is manufactured in accordance with the highest quality standards. Please be assured that this information has been forwarded to the responsible individuals for corrective action.

Again, we apologize for any inconvenience to you. We are enclosing coupons for your use. We hope you will continue to have faith in our organization and purchase our products as you have in the past. We do appreciate your business.

Ok, there are three verdicts I could drop here (keep in mind, this is a real issue, I didn't make this up for the sake of it). They:

1)Hate Democracy
2)Think Democracy is "OK"
3)Love Democracy and America

The letter was nice and the compensation in coupons was MORE than nice, so I would give them "Love Democracy and America," sadly, Phil made one crucial mistake. Did anyone else catch it?
Ms. Sloan???

For that I must demote their status to "Thinks Democracy is 'OK'"

It's a tough world out there, but at the end of the day, Lance is a darn fine snack company. Do you have Lance in your pants?

Does anyone else smell shellfish?

Laptops is Hot

2006-11-13T20:15:00.000-05:00

Paper...or plastic?

Whatever happened to the good old days of paper? I hate it when things just change on you without fair input ... and this is a prime example. I remember when going to the grocery store meant I got to play with a lot of really pretty paper bags when mom got home (this was when I was a child). That's when some schmuck at the top of the grocery biz discovered that plastic bags saved a lot of money. AT WHAT PRICE? Then there was that period of time where they would ask you which one you wanted so you felt like they gave equal support to both. So deceptive, they were just phasing the paper out and trying to do it without causing an instant outcry! Sure, some stores still offer paper, but it's just a gesture. The sweet paper lovin' that used to be given so freely is now either carried only by customer demand or it's simply denied us.

I know the grocery stores are like us, they can see a good thing when it's right in front of their face! I mean, it has a sturdy feel; it has a much nicer surface for printing your image on, open your eyes grocery stores! Paper was good and you dropped it to save a buck!? I can't believe such a brazen sacrifice of something of true quality for some strange corporate gain.

You know, I can't blame it on the stores entirely though. There is always the outside pressure. Big business America, what with it's single napkin dispenser and it's public restroom hand dryers was right there, urging the grocery stores to cave. GROCERY STORE, COME ON! Just because the businesses around you cave to pressures doesn't mean that you have to! You could have been the diamond in the commercial rough, offering quality "complimentary item" to your customers, but no. You didn't.

I wish I could say I'd never shop with you again for this disgrace...but everyone needs their groceries...

Gao Gao is my panda name...

Keep Your Head Down!

2006-11-12T13:38:00.000-05:00

I usually write pretty random useless stuff in this blog but what I'm about to write is going to serve a purpose. I want to remember what happened yesterday in detail for future reference.

My sister and I were shopping in Best Buy yesterday when a gun was pulled, a shot was fired, and chaos broke out.

Melissa came down to visit me for the weekend because she had a, thing... that she had to go to and needed a place to stay. Well, she stayed last night just to keep me company I guess. In any case we were trying to think of something to do around 3:00 when we decided to go to Best Buy and grab a season of "Ghost Hunters" on DVD. If you've never heard of that TV show I highly suggest you click the link and check it out. They usually don't find anything but when they do, it's creepy, and you get some good stories regardless.

So we know that Best Buy is going to be the only store in town that would carry a relatively obscure Sci-Fi original series like that. Once we're there I convince her that she needs to go back to the back and check out the little TV sets since she might want one for Christmas. She goes back with me. We're looking at some nice HD LCD sets in the satellite TV section when we hear a commotion up towards the front of the store (this is waaay in the back). It gets quiet and I hear a loud bang. Looking over the shelves (thanks to my height), I see smoke rising up. There is a moment...maybe three seconds...where nothing happens except some yelling at the front. Someone yells "Get down," then all heck breaks loose. It takes a while for it to hit me that someone has a gun at the front of the store and that it's probably a robbery. I move slightly forward against the river of people scrambling towards the back of the store. I hear Melissa freaking out (just a little) behind me. I knew our best bet was to get as far away from guy with gun at front, since if it was a robbery; the money was at the front. We had to walk towards the front to get out of the TVs, then around them to go back towards the back. Melissa stopped to put Ghost Hunters down and told me to wait up. I grabbed her hand and started moving. It was crazy, just like in a movie; people were huddling over their children, jumping into shelves, and running and screaming. All I said was "It's going to be ok" as I led Melissa through the back isle until we came to the storeroom. Several associates had just opened the storeroom and were letting people out the back. We booked it to the sidewalk.

Once outside we waited for a while as several police cars streamed by. It was only about 5 minutes later that we got word that the guy was arrested. As far as we know (according to an associate) he was trying to steal 2 cds and got caught. When the doormen tried to take him into a holding room he pulled a gun. One of the Best Buy guys grabbed his arm and pushed it down as he pulled the trigger. They held him and the police got him. Hooray for Best Buy!!

All I could think about on the sidewalk after we knew we were safe was "I wonder if circuit city has Ghost Hunters." Melissa loves giving me a hard time about that. We did go to Circuit City, they didn't have it, and then we came back to the apartment. The store was open later, though, and we tempted fate again around 6:00. Needless to say, we watched some Ghost Hunters that night.

You see this kind of stuff happen on TV all the time and you never think it will happen to you. Well, I guess it can. Stay safe you guys and don't freak out if something does happen, you reduce your chances of survival!

update! Looks like the rumor mill got a couple of details wrong, but the people being interviewed here were at the same place we were. He is the official report...
Gunshot fired at Best Buy; teen charged with robbery | StarNewsOnline.com | Star-News | Wilmington, NC

Purple Cabbage Never Hurt Nobody

2006-11-06T14:25:00.000-05:00

SWEEEEEET!

I can't believe it, for once in my life I register for classes and come out with one of the most AMAZING schedules EVER.

Keep in mind that I'm only taking 15 hours next semester and not 18 like I have for the past two.

Here is what it looks like.

Essay Writing on MW
Business Writing on MWF
Japanese Cinema on MW
Art of the Camera on Tuesday
and Variations on the 1 minute film on Tuesday

If you payed close attention you may have noticed that I have NO CLASSES on thursday and one class on friday and it's only from 12:00 to 12:50. NIIIIIICE. I'm so excited. Now I just have to figure out to do with my nearly four day weekends!

Ciao!

Hat of a Drop

2006-10-19T16:54:00.000-04:00

AMEEEEEEERICA!

In celebration of our great democracy (and to test it) I've decided to send a little letter and let you fine folks follow it on its epic journey. The letter is a claim, or complaint letter, which will find it's way into the box of one LANCE CONSUMER AFFAIRS devision. I wrote the letter for my Intro. to Technical Writing class, got an A- on it, and now it's going to the big boys. Here is a copy of the letter in full:

Nathaniel Sloan
401 Maple Ave.
Four Oaks, NC 27524
September 27, 2006

Lance Consumer Affairs 
P.O. Box 32368
Charlotte, NC 28232

To the Director of Lance Consumer Affairs:

I am writing with concern for a problem I discovered in one of your Home Packs of sandwich crackers. I’d like to begin by saying that I have been a loyal customer of Lance for years and have always been satisfied with the quality of your product.

In July of this year, I was given a Home Pack of Captain’s Wafers with Cream Cheese & Chives. As you are aware, each Home Pack comes with eight individually wrapped six-packs of sandwich crackers. Captain’s Wafers are my favorite of your cracker varieties and your Cream Cheese & Chives filling is delicious. Imagine my disappointment at discovering the first and last sandwich cracker in almost every pack was missing its Cream Cheese and Chives filling.

I realize that the manufacturing process isn’t a perfect one, but I feel some form of compensation is in order for my disappointment. I would also like to know if steps are being taken to ensure that every sandwich cracker in every pack attains the quality goals set forth by your company. Thank you very much for your time.

Sincerely yours,

Nathaniel Sloan

As you can see...I'm not sugar coating anything. I'll let you know what Lance's response is and quite frankly there are only two ways to look at the outcome. If they give me some compensation, we're good. If they don't, democracy is in danger and we all must take action against their neglect.

If you don't own a gun, don't put one in your script.

For Softer Crust, Place on Oven Sheet

2006-10-18T12:25:00.000-04:00

School bans tag, other chase games - CNN.com

Oh, you knew it was coming.

In the never ending pursuit to make people's lives safer by removing everything in them that makes them worth living, there is another victory. Apparently several school systems across the country have taken the strong arm against one of my favorite things, tag. No, children aren't coating themselves in skunky body spray, I speak of the childhood classic. The game of tag.

Ok, correct me if I'm wrong, but no one made up the game of tag. I think God gave us tag from the beginning, sort of a natural instinct. You let kids go out into an open area and one of them is going to chase another one and instantly everyone knows what's going on. There is never an adult needed to explain the rules, it's just understood.

Let that stand undeniable evidence that tag is a basic, unalienable right of the children of America. Are you surprised that I'm defending it? It's the only sport I was ever any good at! Of course I'm going to defend it! You know what else....IT ISN'T SAFE, and I DON'T CARE. Neither do kids, go ahead and ask them.

I wouldn't feel qualified to make that statement if I didn't feel I had some authority in saying it. I do, however, and that's because I broke my wrist by tripping over a root in a game of tag in the first grade. Snapped it. I cried a bit, had to eat and color with my left hand for a while, then I got over it. My kids will too. I don't want some hyper sensitive school system, so afraid of getting sued, denying my child the privilege of running around and getting hurt. All children should at least have that.

French Onion soup is delicious...

Stabby Stabby!!

2006-10-12T12:04:00.000-04:00

Oh the fun I've had since my last post!

I went rafting on the Nolichuckee (sp) river.

I went on my first roller coaster ride (and on 4 more after it) at Busch Gardens.

I got in touch with my ye olde side at Colonial Williamsburg.

and

I spent fall break at home relaxing and playing with our puppy.

Three weekends and TOO much fun. I'm really glad that I've had such a busy semester. I would be morbidly depressed if I had nothing to do on the weekends. If there is a weekend that comes around that I don't have anything to do for, you better invite me to do something or I may go off the deep end. I'm just kidding!
...but seriously...

So what does one do in the midst of the weekend excitement? Pretty much wait for the semester to end. I want it to get here as soon as possible. A month at home with no job doing NOTHING might drive me slightly crazy, but this is one semester that's been tough enough that I'd like to see it go! I won't take so many classes that require writing ever again. It's impossible to do all the writing I'm supposed to very well, so I end up turning in a bunch of stuff and saying....ehhhh, it's probably a "B," but it's at least a "C." I'm sure you all know how that goes.

In other news I got my Dad's old Nikon camera and brought it back from the house. As soon as I get the time/money I plan on taking some fantastic photography, which I'll put up for your viewing pleasure. If you have facebook and your interested in seeing pictures from my trip, there are plenty up on there. Go to www.facebook.com, search for me, and their on my profile.

I hope everyone has a fantastic day. I love you all adoring reader!

Ca-ta-ridge-es.

2006-09-20T23:24:00.000-04:00

Oh the HUMANITY!
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Lowes Foods is racist.

How can you deny it with the evidence right in front of your face. Here we see a classic example, the Lowes Foods "Assorted Cremes." My roommate, Devin (pictured here holding the cookies) is a avid patron of the grocery store that markets and sells these cookies. Some would say these are a delicious treat, but if you don't see the symbolism, you're blind.

In this apparently innocent cookie package we have two flavors. ONLY TWO. There are the light cookies, and the dark cookies. As a side note I'd like to point out that the dark cookies are in an obvious minority to the light ones. That, of course, isn't what gets me all fired up. What's really over the top is the way in which they pack the dark cookies between the white ones. Ok, when you open a bag of cookies, where do you usually pull the first on from? The answer is of course, the side that is most available. THE SIDE, not the middle. The chocolate cookies are not only at a numeric disadvantage, but they are also denied the opportunities for selection that the light ones are.

Why couldn't they mix the cookies together? Would it have killed them? Was it just too much for them?

Segregationist cookie PUNKS.

Now, as a response to that Lowes Food's would probably point out the sister product named "Duplex Cremes." In that product the two halves of cookie are each different colors. That's a good effort, I'll admit, the dark and the light creamed together in harmony, but honestly look at the name. Duplex Creams? Come on, could the rhyme be any more obvious and insulting? They might as well just call them KK Kremes.

I wouldn't stand for this. Boycott Lowes foods until they notice the mistakes they're making and clean up their act.

*To anyone that may read this, please don't misinterpret my tone. I'm so far removed from being racist myself I try to find humor in an effort to reduce it's potency. CHUCKLE!

I'm Not Afraid to Kill the Loud Tenant Above Me.

2006-09-19T00:02:00.000-04:00

"Heeeeey!" (that looks like what we're saying).
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

So the image you see with this post is from WWE "UNFORGIVEN" night over at Yam's yesterday. Melissa made the long trek down and I actually got to spend a small amount of time with her. Seeing Yam and several caswelll buddies was lots of fun too.

Of course, that's not what this post is about.

How does one start off a blog entry about something as intricately and subtlety complex as what I'm about to discuss? This is an art that few people are blessed with the ability to appreciate, but if you are, it can cause emotional responses unavailable elsewhere. No, it's not traditional African folk dancing (though the congas will do a number on you). This is the one and only true sport of the thinking man; the art of professional wrestling.

"It's fake Nathan! How can you call a fake sport art? How can you allow your infinitely amazing reputation as an art critic to be sullied by a monumental misnomer like this?"

Oh I hear you, pessimistic masses. For those of you that lob this argument I have but one question to pose. If it's a fake sport, how can it be anything other than art? Lets look at the definition of art.

ART: The quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.

Have you seen the grace with which these oiled and glistening men execute complex, choreographed stunts? Sometimes these ballets of brutality can stretch for upwards of a half hour. All it takes is one slip in a pool of blood, one misplaced flip off the top rope, one...double helix half-stoaked gainer press slam, that's not on mark, and the whole performance is awry. You really can't knock it until you watch it with a honest critical eye.

Let's not forget the role of the obnoxious, scantily clad female ringside "cheerleader." It's obvious that these characters are put into the production as a satire of the male-dominated culture's twisted perception of the ideal woman. Their statement is higly effective, and it's really gutsy of WWE to go out on a limb by so overtly criticizing the ignorance of their primary demographic. I'm sure many of the first time viewers go home to their wives with a fresh perspective and appreciation for their natural beauty and significance in society.

Lastly, how can anyone turn down something that involves fighting with, you guessed it; tables, ladders, and chairs. I mean...seriously. Just say that to yourself with the thought of ensuing fight in mind. TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS.
Nice isn't it?
OK, now close your eyes and imagine the deep voice of "movie announcer guy" saying it.

...

Did you feel those chills?

All in all, I think my point is clear. Wrestling is quite possibly America's #1 under-appreciated art. A thick sociopolitical agenda enriches the conciousnesses of the youth and adults alike. The deep, engrossing story line delivers true drama and comedy in a way that stage production or film could never hope to. Lastly there is the pure spectacle. Something about our inner selves is well pleased with the sight of a 300 pound man crashing through two stacked tables off a 16 foot ladder. I don't know what that something is, but it's very happy.

I suggest you all grab your remote and order the next pay-per-view special as soon as possible. You can thank me later.

Diggin that Hound Bone

2006-09-17T11:44:00.000-04:00

Ah! The weeks come a-rollin' by already. I love this constant busy state of living, it makes things seem to move faster. You'd have to be crazy not to take a break every once in a while though. I've found a new way to take a break and I'm going to share it with you.

THE T.V.!

Ok, so maybe it's not new to you, but it is new to me. I never watch TV but now I've fallen in love with the national geographic channel, the history channel, and the discovery channel (including all it's other forms). Is that sad. But there is something else cool you should check out. Try iTunes TV store. You can get free episodes of shows and such at different times. I got the pilot of Psyche for free and now I love that show. If you haven't seen Psyche, you should. It's like a modern Sherlock Holmes with a twist. The guy has strong powers of observation but he pretends to be a psychic. Mucho's funnios.

Ok so yeah...thats about all. I'm going to be heading out to Yam's tonight for the wrestling pay per view. I've never experienced one of those so i'm sure I'll have some amusing observations to tell you later. Take it easy!

Yamsters are the New Hamsters

2006-09-12T09:19:00.000-04:00

Sneaky Sneaky....

Remember that list I made in my last entry? Well the biggest, most daunting task for the week was really that 4 page review due yesterday so I was looking forward to it being behind me. Turns out my professor is evil and that was REALLY the secret first draft. Now that it's been work shopped I have to turn in another tomorrow. I don't' know why I'm telling you this as if it's interesting, maybe I'm just hoping it'll get the creative juices flowing.

I want my own old world style sailing ship. Yes, like a pirate ship, but I wouldn't sail the skull and cross bones. I wonder if there is anywhere in the world that still builds those ships. If I could find one I wouldn't mind paying the 4 or 5 million it would cost to build it as long as it was big enough to make my permanent residence. Think about how sweet that would be. You wouldn't actually live on land you'd just sail from port to port and do your thing. I think that would be relatively awesome. I'd also want cannons, though I'm sure the government would spoil that fun. I'd always refer to her as "she" and when on deck everyone would have to call me cap'n. Hm, I don't know what I'd name her though. Maybe you guys can help me. If anyone still reads this, post a comment on what my ships name should be.

My finger got caught in the little hole in the seat belt clip as I was taking mine off yesterday. It hurt.

A Boyd in the Hand

2006-09-07T22:19:00.000-04:00

So...Tired...

This semester is going to drive me BATTY. In addition to some supercurricular stresses, I have WAY TOO MUCH crud to do. If you don't believe me how about we look at my week ahead:

Friday: Quiz in Theory and Practice of Editing (English class)

Over weekend and into next week: Read Euripides' Medea for Theater (quiz Monday); Editing online homework (by Monday); write a logline, outline, and plot summary IN ADDITION TO adapting a short story for film in screenwriting (due Thursday); Monkey load of reading and must write a Resume, Coversheet, and follow up letter for Technical writing; 4 page review of Bonnie and Clyde, 500 word journal entry AND monkey load of reading in Writing about Film (all due Monday, journal on wednesday as well); Monkey load of reading for History of Documentary (by Tuesday).

In addition I have a Flim club meeting Saturday at 10AM, Glen's Small Group Monday at 4, CCF large group to attend Tuesday night, Film Club main meeting Wednesday night, Film Magazine meeting to lead Thursday, CCF guys small group to lead right afterwards on Thursday, Hair to pull out next Friday!!!

(somewhere in there Caswell folks are getting together to hang out too...)

Don't think this means I don't have time for you. I do. I need you to keep me sane.

Put on Your Happy Helmet

2006-09-05T09:25:00.000-04:00

Long weekend?

Not very much to repot, sorry. I spent the weekend away doing several different things, the most notable of which was probably my visit to David and Stephen's apartment in Raleigh. They have a very nice place and a couch that is pretty dag on comfortable. For that fact alone their apartment gets a hearty 8 on the crash-comfortOmeter.

The rest of the weekend was spent at my house, mostly. It was very good to see everyone there all as well. I'm lucky to have a family that always at least acts as if they're glad to see me. They make me feel loved.

For the trip back to Wilmington I packed up my plastic DVD rack that was store at my dad's office. It wasn't a bad deal at first but about 5 minutes into my trip on I-40 I started hearing the horrible squeaking noise. Not like a "my car has some minor defect" squeaking, it was like two styrofoam Sumo wrestlers constantly fumbling for control of my cargo area. I didn't want to stop so I just listened to my radio with squeaky accompaniment.

Do hamsters have hamstrings?

Harrison Ave.

2006-08-31T23:52:00.000-04:00

Rainy days
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

In case you're wondering, that is a photo of me completely saturated in Ernesto droppings. I spent the entire day in the building (save the 45 minutes just before this picture was taken that I spent walking to a class that was, as it turns out, canceled) and it's been pretty bummer-rific. We're you're left in a room all alone you pretty much have nothing to fall back on but naps, reading, homework, and thinking. I tried napping, it didn't work out for me. I picked up some Oswald chambers for a good read and got all my homework done. Of the four I'd certainly say thinking had to occupy the most of my time. That's about all I have to report. If you are curious as to what my day was like, just take a second glance at the photo. I think it sums things up pretty well.

Nah, Ernesto isn't all that bad, I'm just havin' fun and such. It's not often you get drenched by a former hurricane and live to get your picture taken right after, is it? Ok, yeah, I guess most everyone does. The long weekend ahead is going to be even longer than expected. See you in hyperspace again soon!

Am I the only one that bleeds when I floss? I don't like flossing.

Dangle with Care

2006-08-30T23:31:00.000-04:00

We've all heard "them" say that writing is therapeutic so HERE GOES! You ready for this?

Actually I feel really bad for addressing that question to a "you." It's probably a great mistake to assume that anyone still checks on this page now that I've fallen off that face of the Earth. Well, I started this little page without an audience and pretended I had one so I guess I can work that way again.

About that whole falling off the face of the earth thing. Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I'm sure you all have gone through periods in your life where you just don't feel like working on things any more. I went through one of those with my blog. I have had a lot of fun with this little page and I can't believe I let it fall into such a state of disrepair. There is only one way I suppose I can make up for it.

THE NATHAN'S WILMINGSLOAN BLOGSTRAVAGANZA!

What is that you may be thinking to yourself? Well it's simple of course. I'll put it in layman's terms.

I list 5 things that UNCW has that I want to blow up with approx. 5 sticks of dino-MITE.

I list 5 woodland creatures that I would snuggle if they wouldn't claw/gnaw me to death in the process.

and I give my unique perspective on deli meats....

HERE WE GO!
1. The fence that blocks the second walkway in front of the new CIS building. BOOM!
2. Our ugly tinker-toy style clock tower (it does grow on you though) BOOM!
3. The guy/girl that doesn't even slow down when I am heading for the crosswalk. BOOM!
4. Kenan Hall, room 121 BOOM!
5. Phillip Johnson BOOM!

1. The little tiny brown birds that can only hop HUG!
2. A fox HUG!
3. A squirrel HUG!
4. Moose HUG!
5. Phillip Johnson HUG!

There are some people in the world that only want one type of deli meat on their sandwich. To those people I say...deli meats were made to work in tandem. You can't have only the turkey or only the salami. You have to make the Turkami happen. Though it sounds like a dangerous natural disaster... it really just creates a wave of delicious flavor in your mouth.

I love you all my loyal...reader!

Surely You Jest

2006-07-31T08:15:00.000-04:00

You know whats interesting to me? People talk about God in strange ways while we are here on earth. We make these insightful little comments and then go on with the rest of our lives feeling inspired. One of my favorites is "God knows how many grains of sand are on the beach." I remember that one from sunday school as a kid. Ok, ok, I get the point. It's just to let people (especially kids) know that God is all knowing and that we can take comfort in that. Has anyone else ever really thought about it though? Next time someone informs you of God's knowing every grain of said on the beach ask them if thats going to be a real burning question for them to ask him when they get to heaven. Well, lets see, I get to talk to the infinitely powerful creator of the universe in person...I could ask him anything I wanted... "So...yeah...I was wondering. How many hairs are on my head anyway? "
Personally I really can't see that ever coming up. I mean, maybe if you're there long enough it might start to pick your brain (it is eternity after all). Eh, still, probably not.

Ah! To Be Stabbed in the Face by a Persian Prince!

2006-06-27T09:39:00.000-04:00

What-ho nave!

I realize that my posting is now at an all-time low. I'm ok with that because I'm so busy here at caswell. I'm trying very hard to think about something to write about as we speak. The only thing I've been able to come up with is sword fighting. Recently some of the guys here at caswell and I have picked up on the hobby of wooden sword fighting. It sounds and yes, looks, incredibly dorky but don't be too quick to judge. As soon as you take your 4 or 5th swing it will dawn on you, mortal combat with non mortal weaponry is a LOT of fun. I just finished constructing my first wooden shield yesterday. I now have to think of a sicknasty design to paint on it with blue and yellow paint (the background is white). So there you have it.

I also discovered another interesting tid-bit of news from Stephen Jeffcoat. Only female mosquitoes bite. Ok, I knew that...but I didn't know why. Apparently they need blood to be able to lay their eggs. On that note I began to ponder...how many mosquitoes have I fathered? It's really quite disturbing.

Have a SUNSHINY DAY!
P.S. Congrats to Stephen for his new job and David for posting again and giving us something to read!

DJ Wonder-mint

2006-06-17T09:17:00.000-04:00

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman		85%
Spider-Man		80%
Green Lantern		65%
Robin		60%
Supergirl		58%
The Flash		55%
Batman		45%
Wonder Woman		43%
Hulk		40%
Iron Man		20%
Catwoman		15%

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Thats right....I have x-ray vision!

Beware the JEzzErBizeR

2006-06-05T08:00:00.000-04:00

Ah, the liquid sunshine!

Caswell is turning out to be just fantastic already. Of course every summer is different and I know this one will have some great new surprises. I had fun telling Megan Barbee that there was a headless chained ghoul that drags it's torso out from the forts in search of a housekeeper who's head it should steal. I think she enjoyed that story. Well, it's short I know but I just wanted to put something up. I'll update with more interesting stuff later!

Me cow!

Lodged in the Back of the Throat

2006-05-27T10:15:00.000-04:00

Time well wasted is well spent?

I must admit, it's been a fantastic two weeks of doing nothing (including updating this blog). I've actually been trying to clean up my nasty looking room and yesterday I went for my old toy closet. This closet hasn't been cleaned out in at least 8 years...it's filled with papers and crap that I didn't want to sort through in years past as I "cleaned" my room. Yesterday I decided to go though and dump all the crap out to trash most of it.

What a nostalgia trip! I found my middle school report cards along with notes for games I'd made up in middle school and people that I hadn't heard from since 8th grade. What really freaks me out is that I found several items that I had just recently mentioned in conversation. Pictures of people long forgotten that I had just talked about the day before for the first time in a long time. Yesterday at lunch I couldn't think of the name of the "space team" that came to 5th grade and did a week of work with us. I hadn't thought about them in YEARS. As I cleaned out my closet I found my StarBase activity folder with my completion certificate inside. WHAT THE CRAP. Sometimes I feel like my life is The Truman Show and weird things are planned out like this so that people can watch and laugh. If so, and you are all actors, I just want to let you know that I'm seriously on to you and I don't appreciate the FALSE friendships. I hope your paychecks are big enough to outweigh your conscious! And just so you know, I'm now especially suspicious of Jacob. I see right through your tricks!

One on Juan

2006-05-13T21:51:00.000-04:00

The Homefront.

Well, it sure is good to be back. My first day at home I was treated to an afternoon with my sister Elizabeth, my cousin Virginia, my Aunt Elaine, and my Grandma Sloan. It was good to sort through my garbage up at Dad's office and chit-chat with everyone. Afterwards we all went out to eat and my sister Melissa changed the sign on the front of the resturant which read "Chicken Cass role" (don't ask me why they mis-spelled it so badly) to read "Chicken Ass Hole." Upon seeing it my mother and grandmother made her change it back.

Good times indeed.

So it looks like my weeks in Four Oaks before I head out to Caswell will be loner weeks. I'll be on my own at the house for the most part but that should allow for plenty of quiet reflection and wall staring. I'm looking forward to it. If I should stumble upon a subtle truth of life during a trance-like period, I'll be sure to share it with everyone here.

What a rip off. Hamsters aren't EVEN made with ham!

If It Ain't An Avacado, What Is It?

2006-05-08T23:24:00.000-04:00

dorm 2
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

A Salute to Schwartz

It was cold this morning, surprisingly so. Sent myself a very important email, tossed on a jacket, and headed out the door. When I got to the library I printed out 14 beautiful pages that almost stung my hands as I took them to the stapler. Laser printers are hot. A short walk to Morton from the library was my last responsibility. There, in the creative writing office, I sealed the deal by putting the paper in my nonfiction instructors mail box. My last responsibility as a sophomore was over.

Walking back I didn't feel any different, which surprised me. I thought I would be hit with an instant surge of sentimental notions and of fear since these first two years of school have gone by so quickly. I'm halfway to it and the real world isn't going to slow down for me. Rather than fear or sentimentality for the school years themselves I've found myself having sentimental notions about something much more tangible. I'm going to miss my dormitory, Schwartz Hall.

Since the first time I saw it, rain soaked from hurricane weather on August 15, 2004, this big place has been a shelter for me. In room 314 I've done a good bit of growing physically, emotionally and spiritually. Both years my roommates have left me in here all alone for the last few days. Of course it's lonely but it is especially so now that I know I won't be coming back. In recognition of what these first two years in Schwartz Hall has meant to me, I'm going to give a brief salute to Schwartz and it's people. Seven memorable Schwartz moments!

1. Move-in day.
Move in day was misery. As mentioned above it was raining and we had to haul all our stuff through it. I was already nervous as could be but at least I knew I had a couple of days alone before my roommate, who I'd never met before, moved in. Imagine my surprise when I got up to 314 and there was stuff already there! My blonde roommate, a sophomore, came in earlier than he was supposed to, likely to make sure he got what he wanted. Of course I didn't want to get started on the wrong foot, I said nothing. Coming straight from Baptist camp at Caswell and hearing about the crazy people of college I was very nervous. As soon as my parents left he opened the fridge, pulled out a beer, and cracked it open. I don't think I'd ever seen a beer consumed in such close proximity to me before, I almost passed out. That was my introduction to Roach.

2. First day of class.
I thought I was going to soil my pants when I woke up. I made it through though, and many more came!

3. Sick Roach.
A drunken roach comes into our room early in the morning, wakes me up, pukes out the window, and passes out. For more information see the archives here.

4. Robert Sterner Jr.
Though technically not an even, Bob was a wonderful RA. He's been the Wellness floor RA for 3 years now and as I leave this semester he leaves for grad school. If you don't know him you're missing out on a great personality.

5. First Caro-kiss.
Happened in the third floor common room on November 21, 2004 (I think.) In any case it was a little more than a month before we started officially going out. As scandalous as that sounds, you don't want to start dating someone right before a long Christmas break, come on now!

6.Being sick.
When do you bond more with a place than when you're bedridden and forced to stare at it's walls every waking moment for days? I caught a strange virus that kept me out of class for the better part of a week in October of 2004 and more recently, right around exam time fall 2005, I got a bad case of the mono. Glad to be over those but at least I'm coming out with an improved immune system!

7. Living with Devin.
Devin gets a mention because he's been my roommate for the past year. He makes me laugh a lot. Maybe someday he'll be forced to wean himself from the zombifying effects of music, movies and TV. When that happens you'll know what I mean. I kid Devin, I kid!

So there you have it. If I think of any more in the next couple of days I'll add them, it is by far not a definitive list. Schwartz, you've been more than a home to me, you been a good pal!

David Blaine....you failed...but America is still completely creeped out by you. Keep up the good work!

Ham Biscuit Train

2006-05-07T22:42:00.000-04:00

COMING TOMORROW: A POST FOR THE AGES. COME BACK TO WILMINGSLOAN FOR:

A SALUTE TO SCHWARTZ!

AS I PREPARE TO LEAVE THE DORM WHERE SO MUCH CHANGED IN MY LIFE, IT'S TIME TO REFLECT ON IT ALL. DON'T MISS THE THRILLING CONCLUSION!!!!

Her Magic Push Ups

2006-05-04T21:57:00.000-04:00

I'm a member of Campus Christian Fellowship but it's recently come to my attention that we aren't the Only CCF thats floating around. Thats right, you all know what I'm talking about. The Cheetah Conservation Fund. I don't know if you have a charity to support yet but why not support the repopulation of viscious man-eating cats? Go knock yourselves out!

EXAMS ARE KILLING ME!

Shame on You, The Duke Indeed!

2006-04-29T10:31:00.000-04:00

I'm too gullible.

Yesterday at Barnes and Noble I went to the Starbucks and saw some of the prettiest water I've ever seen. It's Fiji brand and it comes in a rectangular bottle with a little tropical scene label on the back so that when you look through the front you see palm fronds and ripples. This water is $2.50 a liter but looking at the beautiful exterior I couldn't resist. After all, this was untainted water from the virgin ecosystem of the islands of Fiji. In our acid rain filled world of Aquafina, Dasani, and Le Blue it's just too hard to resist that claim.

Unfortunately for me I failed to remember that water gets turned into a gas, carried all over the face of the planet, and redeposited wherever. In the case of Fiji brand they actually had the audacity to say on the back of the bottle that "The purest water comes from the purest clouds. Our rainfall is purified by trade winds as it travels thousands of miles across the Pacific Ocean to the islands of Fiji." Oh yeah, that sounds really scientifically accurate. The old "purified by the trade winds" bit. Perhaps I'd be satisfied if they cared to explain, rather than fancifully state how their water is clean. In my head I'm picturing a bunch of creative guys in Fiji filling up pretty bottles barefoot in the creek behind their "processing plant" or as it's more likely referred to, the house.

I wouldn't be so upset but it seems that my $2.50 bottle of water that looked so delicious, was actually the most disgusting water I've ever had. Never, never buy it. You have been warned.

I demand TEN LAYERS in my lasagna and if I count 9 it's going to be your JOB!

Thoughts Formulated While Gnawing on a Cotton Ball

2006-04-23T21:43:00.000-04:00

Don't ask...

Ten things I wish I had right now that don't go in a waffle cone:

->1800's banker sideburns
->One of those things on Star Trek that materializes any food you want
->The ability to tell people I punched a shark in the gills to scare it away and not be lying
->Two mahogany framed degrees with my name on them (of any discipline)
->A real functioning light saber
->A pet deer that talked (only to me) about it's favorite literature
->My own forge and blacksmithing studio
->Belt with holsters for candy bars
->3-story tall mechanical Panda with R/C remote
->Frozen yogurt...oh wait..DANG IT!

And all the Hillbillies in the choir stoically raised their pitchforks in respect.

Pull the Pin and Let the Metal Ring

2006-04-21T23:03:00.000-04:00

Southport trip!
Originally uploaded by The Sloan.

Once again...I have failed my loyal readers by not posting on the correct time spot. It's ok though because I HAVE posted the day after and so now the actual posting shall commence.

You know what? It's about time someone shed light on the anti-social's favorite; the cell phone bluff.

First of all, let me say I'm totally guilty of this. Second of all I'm writing about it because I want to see who else is either guilty, or suspects themselves of having been victim. Ok, so here it is. The Cell Phone Bluff is the (as far as I can tell) the common practice of checking your cell phone strategically in order to avoid awkward passing moments with people you know vaguely. What I mean by this is that when person A spots person B from a distance ( person B is someone who they don't know all that well, but well enough that they should say something to them), person A picks up the cell phone and is like, "Wow, need to look at that clock...yeah...still looking at it. Hmmm. I think I'll reread all my text messages." In doing so Person A avoids having to say anything to them.

People are funny sometimes.

I like giant pandas.

Too Close for Missles, I'm Switching to Guns

2006-04-17T08:04:00.000-04:00

It's the Sunday Post on Monday Morning!

The long haul has finally arrived. I'm now stuck with the daunting task of writing an 8 page research paper in one day. That's what I get for putting it off and having several other classes in which my stuff is also due at the exact same time. I feel kind of bad because yesterday I bought my first lotto scratch ticket for a dollar. Though that does disappoint I won $7 so I made $6. I'm thinking I might just stick it to the man and never buy another lotto ticket. That way I have still taken $6 for the state government, and more importantly...those noisy kids and their PUBLIC education. Wait a second...I was publicly educated...oh well.

Yesterday I drove all the way home with on windshield wiper blade half off. This wouldn't have been a big deal but after an hour the flapping against the glass gets to you. I'm not sure I'm completely mentally stable anymore, but whose to say I ever was in the first place.

...Don't touch my ancient Chinese Bronze Bells!

My Humble Wigwam

2006-04-13T20:36:00.000-04:00

As promised I updated now on a Thursday. I know you didn't think I would, it's ok, I'll forgive you eventually.

So, much has happened since my last post. On Friday I got to see Franz Ferdinand (eh) and my personal favorite, Death Cab for Cutie in concert at Duke. Caroline took me as a part of my birthday present and it was a lot of fun (aside from my inability to navigate unfamiliar urban areas without freaking out). You can find four pictures from the concert in myFlickr photo album. If you haven't exposed yourself to Death Cab yet I highly suggest your doing so.
...
and by that I mean listening to their music, not literally exposing yourself to them. That would just be weird

So yes indeed, I did turn 20 this weekend. Surprisingly I feel as if I'm moving out of the glory years of youth already. I know 80, or even 40 year old Nathan would probably wish he could go back in time and smack the current 20 for being so dumb, but it's just one of those things I guess.

I might as well get the bad news out in the open, I didn't have an especially good birthday this year. I really enjoyed spending Sunday afternoon with my family and with Caroline, (we went to Carabbas for lunch) but when we came home we found a sad sight. Bandit, our Yorkshire terrier of 11 years, was in a pitiful state. It was a very sad night for me already but after Caroline and I headed back for Wilmington he apparently took a turn for the worst. Sad story short, the sweetest and best dog I've ever known passed away late that night. I wouldn't mention the whole event because I don't like sad stuff on my blog, but I felt I needed to because I just enjoyed that dog so much and he deserves some kind of recognition from me. I grew up with Bandit and he was, in many ways, my best friend as a child. As we both got older I neglected him and I'm regretting that now. All of you that have pets you enjoy that are still alive need to go out of your way to treat them well because we don't get that much time with them. Our house just won't be the same without his guardian bark coming from the back of the house. I miss him already.

Questionable Irritations

2006-04-07T00:40:00.000-04:00

Out of the Blue-ish mists.

Well ladies and gentlemen, I have lots to cover this evening.
First thing's first! I have been SOOOOO busy. This has been, hands down, my busiest semester and I think that has really reflected in the content of this blog. I'm pleased to report however that from henceforth I'm going to re-organize WilmingSloan and bring order to this chaos. Effective (almost) immediately, WilmingSloan will be updated on a bi-weekly basis and at regular times. That's right, Every Sunday and Thursday WilmingSloan WILL be updated. In addition I've decided to at least try to write about interesting things (e.g. not my life) and take you, dear reader, into my whimsical world of off-beatedness. After all, isn't that how this all began in the first place?

Secondly, I support Chef Boyardee in all his endeavors, regardless of what the press has to say about this recent scandal.

Thirdly, (and with notable emphasis) This Sunday will be my 20th birthday and I will officially NOT be young, but rather an un-hip older person still trying to masquerade as one who is still "with it." One day I will look on those words with disgust, most likely on my 41st birthday.

Fourthly...as long as I'm on the Internet kick, I might as well mention that my gimpy Internet counterpart, nathansloan.com, will be updated at some point this month with new reading reviews and hopefully a better-looking interface. From then on the site will be updated PROMPTLY on the first day of every month.

Fifthly, I have yet to mention that I am officially going back to the big Caswell for a fourth summer and I will be reclaiming the position of A/V guy. I'd use the word stoked to express my emotion towards this if I didn't hate that word so very much.

I think that just about covers it. I'm sure there is more that I've left out but I'll return on Sunday to cover that AS WELL AS the Death Cab/Franz Ferdinand concert that Caroline is taking me to tomorrow night and any other interesting birthday festivities. Ciao my Internet friends!

P.S. I'm thinking of starting up titles that actually are relevant to the entries. What do you guys think?

#3

2006-03-24T23:11:00.000-05:00

Rider Backed

He had the joker in his wallet
when they killed him.
The bag was zipped up already,
the last time those eyes looked to the sky
was something like five minutes
ago.

His parents may not yet know the news
I wish I didn't.
A circle of disconnected
officers, smoking their cigarettes
block out the nightmares that come
and go.

His name, Anthony, on his license
tucked in a sleeve
reminds me of a college friend
a magician, who pulled the aces
from the space behind my ears,
and laughed.

I know this isn't him, but again
I see the card
among his loved one's photographs
like a member of the family,
and can't help thinking, maybe?
But no.

What a crazy slip! That was at least
ten years ago.
The kid who's wallet I'm holding
was no peer of mine. The flow of time
and the prank of a joker
fooled me.

He Came From the Basement

2006-03-17T08:05:00.000-05:00

I'm the Gorton's Fisherman....

I got up tuesday morning and came close to walking outside only to realize that it was raining when I got to the first floor. Naturally when I realized this I went back up to my room, grabbed my yellow UNCW raincoat and my wallet that I had forgotten, and went back down. I usually wear the raincoat over my book bag (ever since last years smeared and streaky notes incident). Because of this Caroline says I look like a turtle. The people on the first floor said I looked like the Gorton's Fisherman. What did I do? What could I do? I grabbed the handles of my imaginary ship's wheel and struck a pose for them, then walked out.

What is a ship's wheel? It can't be called a ship's wheel, that's too lame. I just can't picture a 17th Century mariner calling out to his captain "AYE CAP'IN! YE NEED TO BE TURNIN' 'E WHEEL A LITTLE TO 'E PORT SIDE!" Somewhere in there the magic of sailing gets lost.

Wag was pretty disgusting that day. There were chicken nuggets...but they weren't really chicken nuggets. At the very least they were meat but I refuse to call them chicken. I had to eat fast to go to class so I kept shoving them down but with every bite I got sicker and sicker. I don't know where I'm going with this but the moral of the story is never eat the nuggets at Wag...or just avoid Wag period.

I found out what a ships wheel is called (I did some research). Apparently it's actually called a wheel. That's a little disappointing but they it says "also called the helm" so that makes me feel a little better. If I actually were the Gorton's fisherman I'd take the helm and frighten the fish stick population into submission within seconds.

Strange...my feet have nostrils...strange and upsetting...

Just Give me the Burbon Chicken

2006-03-08T10:21:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I didn't update for the past two days...but you CAN'T be mad at me. You know why? Because in the past two days I was finally able to open the mind-numbingly awesome nathansloan.com

Ok, it isn't exactly mind numbingly awesome...ok...it's not really awesome at all really...sigh, but it is my new website and from now on there will be a link to it from my blog. Go read and enjoy.

If you still need material to read then head to my DREAM BLOG and read about my latest strange dream.

Don't bat an eyelash...bat a hobo.