Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Hardly Breathing

I'm going to start a video production company that does quality commercial work at an affordable price, but only on the weekends. I'll call it "Nearly Professional Videography."

I'm going to move to New York and break into the publishing industry from the ground up. Some day I'll work in a high-rise building and live in a townhouse overlooking some trendy urban park.

I'm going to be a missionary to New Zealand and spend a year there sharing Jesus with a country that would largely rather forget about him. When I'm done, I might decide to settle in there for a good long while.

I'm going to study law and work at a local (to my home) practice for the next 15-30 years.

I'm going to apply for Teach For America and start a long career in education by jumping into the grittiest urban education systems in the U.S.

I'm going to run for state congress while I'm still in my 20's and with my victory, seek a long career of public service.

I'm going to move to D.C. and - do whatever I can do in D.C.

I'm going back to school.

I'm going to become a college professor and wear tweed suits and bow ties.

I'm going to write the next great American novel and market it myself.

I'm going to eat more Indian food.

I'm going to become an amateur photographer.

I'm going to become a craig's list hawk.

I'm going to learn to write music that people other than myself can enjoy listening to.

I'm going to make wise investments and use my money to help people.

I'm going to find my true love.

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I'm going to look back on this and think, "So that's what I was going to do..."

Monday, March 16, 2009

I Am Art Official

Earlier today I had the great pleasure (slight exaggeration) of eating at "I heart NY" pizza on hillsborough street. While standing in line I wondered why some businesses and rooms are welcome to be qualified as "parlors" and others arent. Your house can have a parlor, and if you serve pizza you are certainly welcome to call your establishment a pizza parlor. The same is true for ice cream, you are welcome to make it a shop or a parlor at your discretion. I've even seen smoking parlors in cigar and pipe shops where all the old men go to talk about the boat the just bought (that they actually can't afford) and laugh at silly Democrats. Troubled, I returned and quickly took to the dictionary for some answers; here is what I found:
PARLOR(n)
1.-DATED a sitting room in a private house.
-A room in a public building for receiving guests (mayor's parlor)
-A room in a monastery or convent that is set aside for conversation.
2.-A shop or business providing specified goods or services.
and lets not forget
3.-(also milking parlor) A room or building equipped for milking cows.

So under the guidelines set out by definition 2, any shop or business that provides a specified good or service may then call that shop a parlor so long as it is accompanied, first, by an adjective describing said goods or services.

Thats right America, the floodgates are open for this great nation to be covered in hamburger parlors, Lamaze parlors, and the ever-exciting insurance parlor. As for me, I plan to opening a didjereedoo parlor next week. Stop on by and kick it Aborijinal style with me.

I always think of bread when someone wears loafers.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Scotch Tape and Cigar Butts

New York City is - in a word - amazing. I spent the past week there for CCF NC State spring break as we went out each day serving the people of the city in a variety of different ways. I couldn't possibly cover everything that I've thought about and experienced in the past week - but I can talk about one of them that is pretty simple.

Freedom from the internet. I went almost a week with no email, facebook, nothing. Funny thing is, I kind of liked it. I would encourage anyone who reads this to take a few days off and see what I'm talking about because it's pretty refreshing.

Also refreshing - Malta. A Latin-American soft drink that I discovered thanks to Jon when we ate at "Munch Time USA" in The Bronx. Tastes like liquid horehound candy.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Do Solmnly Care

Ok - I'm really creeped out by facebook ads. If you'll remember a couple of posts back I talked about needing to upgrade my wardrobe to be more adult and professional. Today I got on facebook and in the sidebar is one of their targeted ads which reads: "Bored of Trendy Jeans? Maybe it's time to upgrade to better fitting men's trousers."

AHHHHH!
They are watching us. Sound the alarms! The British are coming!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Blind-sided by a Yeti

So I've recently become mildly obsessed with becoming a proficient songwriter. This is especially unnerving if you've ever heard me play a guitar. I started almost exactly two years ago and, though I've come a long way, it is painfully obvious that I have a long way still to go. In spite of this, I grow weary of rehashing tired, old exercises and playing my own versions of songs that Death Cab wrote nearly 10 years ago. It is time to take my first steps into a larger, and slightly more intoxicating world. To help me on this journey I have been reading interviews, listening to songwriters, and buying up literature on the song writing method as if it would go out of style in the absence of my patronage. One such volume is "The Frustrated Songwriters Handbook" by Karl Coryat and Nicholas Dobson. It's an interesting read and I consider several of their "radical" methods to be incredibly useful in digging raw material out of the darkest, most misunderstood depths of your soul. Of course, there is a ton of polish that must be added to make that material into listen-able media, but it looks like Dobson stumbled into a cool way of overcoming creative block.

In one section of the book he offers up a mini-exercise to get in the proper mindset for holding a composition session. It is called "The 3-minute Burn," and, as the name implies, you do something for three minutes and burn it afterwards. In this case, you set a timer and give yourself three minutes to fill as much of a page as possible with stream-of-consciousness writing. After the three minutes, you glance over the page, copy any tidbits you like to a new page, and burn the original. No one will ever know that you wrote it. This is incredibly therapeutic and has helped me overcome my perfectionist nature. Wanting everything I write to be brilliant has meant that I haven't done much writing lately.

I encourage anyone (even those of you that don't think you're creative) to try the 3-minute burn - partly because you'll discover that anyone can accidentally strike gold and partly because it's fun to watch paper burn. To close out this post I've published a few of the "tidbits" that I took from my first three 3-minute burns below.

One that got away wasn't worth it anyway
Sunny sides and almond eyes aren't anything until they die
Solemn or not, here you come
Harmony hates to tell its own story and who am I to say it should?

There were a few others. Given, nothing here is brilliant, but considering they came without concious thought behind them and in about nine minutes - it excites me.

Goody's Powder is just plain fast.

Monday, January 26, 2009

The Collegiate

There was a time when looking like a college kid was the most admirable thing in the world. I think it was around 10th grade. I'm finally realizing that such a time has passed for me. As my friend JaySun recently pointed out on his blog, we hung out a week or so ago and had a discussion on the pressures to "dress your age" and to "look your age" in general. It wasn't until this year that I finally felt the adult world begin to scratch its nasty claws against my skin in a beckoning motion.
"Come on Nathan," it says with raspy voice, "It's time to grow up - you know all the cool kid...err...adults are doing it!"
I am succumbing, mentally, to the need for an updated wardrobe and a more authentic, clean-cut look. Soon it will be time to say goodbye to my beloved band t-shirts. The graphic T's that I proudly purchased as a college sophomore no longer have a place upon my marginally harrier chest. Wearing trendy Converses and jeans with ragged cuffs is endearing to 17 year-olds, but there is a better way to go now.

The problem is that I can't afford that way yet. I want a new suit - that's WAY out of my price range. When I walk into stores like Banana Republic my head nearly explodes - but alas, the sale items are never in my size. To be able to flip the pages of J. Crew and deck myself out in 3 or 4 new outfits that say, "Hey, I'm a 20-something casual," would make me gleefully happy - but it's just not in the cards right now. So what's a boy-err, man-err, man-thing-ish, to do?

I suppose I could take care of the hair issue. Longer hair does have a tendency to make you look like a high school senior - principally one who is far too into Magic:The Gathering and will endlessly assert the immortality of certain moments in Led Zepplin's 1977 tour. The simple step of lowering the old ears and adopting a 1960s fatherly 'do will make me look a lot more mature. I can also endeavor to shave more often than once a week. Maybe even every day! All of this adds up to a guy who looks more like a real-world professional than a class-skipping buffoon. Of course, with all of this said, I'm wouldn't be ready to toss out the hoodies and T's even if I did have the cash. There will always be a dark spot in my closet, (and my heart) where the awkward college boy will be given his time.

Gingerbread houses are a rip-off in real estate investment.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Nothing to Say for Myself

These days are spent in rigid adherence to my calendar and daily planners. The new semester has begun and thus the last 5 months before I am, once again, jobless. 2009 has a nice ring to it already. Sure, it stinks in a lot of ways to not know where I'll be or what I'll be doing by the time the clock strikes midnight for the first time in 2010, but in a lot of other ways it's liberating. I'm not pinned down. I'm still in that in-between phase. A floater. A literal world of choices in front of me. I hope I don't read this in 20 years with remorse for having chosen the wrong path but, then again, if God stays a firm fixture in my life I can't imagine Him not making the most of whatever situation I find myself in.

It would seem that 2009 could be the "big" year.