Mission Statement

I hereby set out on this blogging endeavor to proclaim my rambling adventures, inclinations, hopes, dreams and escapades. My hope is that you, my reader, will smile as I describe my mistakes, lessons learned, lessons I hope to learn and lessons I may never actually learn. Raise your glass (or a skeptic eyebrow) to my adventures through youth (can I still call it that?) as the increasingly less ripe ol' age of 25 pulls me gently from adolescence and into a state of (albiet sometimes forced*) maturity. I will illustrate the experiences that inspire self-reflection and changes of my values, goals, ambitions, strengths and all the many, many weaknesses that fluctuate and bend like a tamshui. Although I am a somewhat shorter guy with a young-looking face, I am less often referred to as a "Young Man" and more often as... well... a man. Responsibility is becoming more often something that is expected rather that something that is given. Thoughts of my future trend towards stability, safety, some deeper sense of satisfaction and fulfillment and yes, even wealth. And although I joke at my annoyance with being carded in bars or referred to as Tiger, Kiddo, Sport, Big Guy or even once the classic Champ, I secretly cling to those condescending labels of boyhood.

This blog will highlight my journey from the eager and ambitious mentality of a college student to the dulled and complacent mindset of your 9 to 5 technology sales rep standard. If you look closely, you'll see that my desire to travel, work on a farm, raise some goats, change my name to Diego and start a fully sustainable farm that doubles as an orphanage and also houses, feeds, and educates hundreds of children in some distant village in some remote part in South America is still there. Hopefully you will relate to some of my moments of struggle and immaturity, but also to the challenges that I face in todays modern working word, both with the lifestyle and with the seeming unattainability of the dream.

I've titled this blog "Skip to my Nate" for several reasons. First, I don't know anyone named Lou, but I have fond memories of the song. Second, my name is Nate. And lastly, I'd love for you to follow this blog as I try to lightheartedly "skip" through sometimes serious, sometimes not-so-serious moments of both clarity and confusion. My name is Nathan Entrekin. I am 25 years old and I live and work in San Francisco, California. This is my song...

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(*From above: A few weeks ago my boss gave me the go-ahead to purchase 10 exercise balls for my colleagues and me to sit on at work. It was my feeling that they are better for your back and encourage better posture. My boss approved the expense, Amazon had a deal, and away I went. Anyway, they came today and I rushed over to open the box. When I opened the box and dumped the deflated balls on the floor, a coworker curiously asked me why I had purchased so many exercise balls. That's a silly question, I thought. I responded with, "Are you kidding!?! Now we ALL can have balls!" Turns out that wasn't the best choice of things to shout in an office...

THEN, step two - the pump to blow up these exercise balls was a 7 inch, cylindrical black tube (picture that - then try to understand the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy because that's about my maturity level) I immediately giggled at the black tube. The sharp glance from Natasha, our 50-something HR manager with the thick Russian accent told that that was an inappropriate thing to giggle about. I gathered myself. But once I started inflating the balls, the motion of actually pumping up the balls felt just a little too like something I may or may not have done before... I hoped no else was thinking what I was thinking. By my third ball, I was really starting to get a work-out. When a coworker walked by and asked how I was doing, slightly sweaty, I looked up and replied, "Great - I'm really good at this!" I don't think she noticed my gesture towards the other balls I'd already inflated and gave me an ever-so-uncomfortable look before I again decided that was, in fact, not the right choice words.)