It's All About the Love

As I sat on the floor of my room the other night, looking through various pictures taken throughout the course of my relationship with my girlfriend, Kelsey, I had a revelation. It was one of those sort of self-defining realizations that knocks you upside the head like slippery, limp tuna. It was as if some little gnome awoke in my head, struck with the urge to ponder. Only it was the middle of the night and the gnome needed light and space to think. It was too dark in my brain for the poor, little gnome to find his way around. And as he stumbled around inside my subconscious, I could feel him fumbling for the light switch. I started to get excited as I felt the realization coming together. And as my visually impaired, bearded, little imaginary friend finally yanked the chain that lit the bulb, I had what my 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Sharp, used to refer to as an "Aha!" moment.

But before I get to that, let me back up a sec... In my last post, I somewhat pessimistically talked about my feelings of boredom, a sort of stagnancy and general lack of enthusiasm with regards to my "nine to five, stare at your computer screen all day, god this chair is killing my back" lifestyle that I've found myself in. And while it's true that I'm fed up with that lifestyle (and I've petitioned for a weekly stretch-sesh in the office...apparently the final decision is still pending), I made the assumption that that feeling of staleness at work was the root of my search for alternative forms of stimulation. Seemed like a logical assumption. But, when that little gnome successfully pulled that little light-bulb string in my head, I realized that the motive for this newfound curiosity and excitement for life has actually come from something else. And that something is love. The realization that you're in love is a magical thing. You feel like you're riding on a silver sleigh across the sky with eight unicorns prancing and pulling you through the air, wind in your hair, and santa sitting shotgun, ho-ho-hoing, patting you on the back and passing you a beer. It's awesome.

For Kelsey's 25th birthday a few weeks ago, I gave her a photo album half-filled with photos of us to symbolize our budding journey together as a couple (super cheesy or ultra-romantic... hard to say). Side-note: I also made her a rather extravagant, home-cooked meal that consisted of a persimmon, goat cheese, walnut salad with balsamic vinaigrette; slow-roasted, pulled-pork in a rosemary, tomato sauce; artichokes with aioli; and a fine Pinot Noir to accompany. And it. was. BOMB... if I do say so myself. MM!! (Grunting, satisfaction noise.) And really, this was a pretty freakin' big deal for me because I really had never cooked anything more complicated than mac and cheese or a bowl of cereal before this 7-hour endeavor. It was truly delicious, but looking back on it, I'm just glad I didn't burn the house down.

But getting back to the point, it was when I was putting together the photo album, that I realized that it's this love that's the cause, the seed, if you will, for my subsequent desire to pursue additional avenues of learning in life. This urge to take up new hobbies, find new kinds of experiences and to expand my mind and my abilities, has come from this new sense of comfort with myself and a happiness with my place in the world. And I can truly relate to Melvin when he finally succeeds in complimenting Carol in the movie, As Good As It Gets. Check out the clip. Great film. See it today. And this appreciation, joy and sheer luck that I feel in being with someone like this has inspired me to seek additional ways of bettering myself.

Same team...

I'm gonna try to tone-down the mushiness now so that you guys don't uncontrollably launch into a complete and total Barf-O-Rama, but to sum it all up, love is just great. Really, it's like the best drug there is. Kelsey and I actually worry that we are constantly grossing out everyone around us with our lavish public displays of affection... But, really, we also don't care.

And, like any couple I guess, the more time we spend together, the more comfortable we are with each other. And we are taking important steps towards a completely comfortable relationship. For example, I can be a complete goof, and she thinks it's funny. I can give her wet willies and try to pick her nose. And I farted in front of her the other night. And when she exclaimed, "you farted!" I responded with, "My first one!" It was a momentous occasion. And that was that. Now I can break wind before her. In truth, I fart all the time. In fact, I've got a problem. I'm just sly about it. Luckily, my farts rarely smell bad. Thank god! Cause let me tell you, no one would want to be my friend if they did...

Anyway, that is what I wanted to say with this post. Good night and good luck. And remember - it's all about the love.

The Lifestyle

It occurred to me one day early last week that my work routine has become monotonous, stagnant and increasingly boring. I discovered this when I found myself browsing through photos of a stranger's cat wearing a halloween costume. If memory serves, I was on photo 23 of 38 when a voice in my head asked me to stop and reflect. How had I gotten here? Why was this how I had chosen to spend the past 15 minutes or so of my life? Let's think. After some real detective work, this is what I discovered: 14 minutes earlier I had been responding to a work email. It was the same generic follow-up email I've sent about 43 times a day for the past two years or so. But then, in mid-sentence - mid-word actually, I was stricken with a boredom so extreme that I was inclined to stop dead in my tracks because, well... that's what I actually felt like - something dead on the tracks. I then proceded to simply stare at my monitor for a good six minutes. Can you say vegetable? Without any kind of cranial activity, I had soon navigated to Facebook and, like Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf, I had uncontrollably transformed into something else. But what I changed into wasn't some furry, high-school basketball wolfman; it was something else. I'd become some sort of brainless zombie, searching for some semblance of stimulation.

And what's worse is it always seems that right when I finally find that YouTube video of Andy Samberg waving his flippy floppies or harmonizing with Michael Bolton that really gets me, I'll catch my approaching boss in my peripherals and my limbs will jerk as I frantically try to close all windows and return to my half-drafted email. "Hi David, I hope all is well. Just wanted to circle back with you to see if you had any feedback or questions for me regarding blah blah blah blah." Shoot me in the face.

Upon further reflection, I realized that this is, in fact, a growing problem for me. I feel under-challenged, unexcited, my skills are under-utilized... I find myself transformed into this zombie-like version of myself constantly throughout the day and it got me wondering about my lifestyle and the apparent need for some kind of change. But how? This is my job. And maybe it beats scrubbing toilets or flipping burgers or something. Or does it? At least with those other jobs, I would be on my feet more often. I'd be getting exercise. I'm a pretty active guy. Maybe I'd like that. I go to the gym most days. I run. I swim. I play sports. I like climbing, traveling, fishing, hiking, camping and spending time outside. But I can't do those things because I'm paid to stare at my laptop all day. I read recently that the average American consumes roughly 10 hours and 45 minutes of media every day. That includes cell phones, computers, TVs, etc. And I think, sadly, I probably fit nicely into that bracket. (I find myself listening to music on my iphone while watching football on my own personal TV screen while running on the treadmill at the gym.) You can't get much farther from a natural running experience than that. (Ideally, I'd be running barefoot in the rain through the woods of Santa Cruz. But, sadly, I don't live in Santa Cruz, I'm afraid I'd hurt my soft, white feet by running barefoot and... it's not raining.) It's sad that we even need to run. If you told someone a few hundred years ago that people would lead such sedentary life-styles that they would need to run in circles just to avoid getting fat, it would have blown his mind. But I digress...

I work for a technology start-up and part of my job requires my familiarity with all sorts of new and emerging technologies. However, I'm of the general opinion that the quality of our lives, in this day and age, would likely be better with less technology and less media consumption each day. This is not the most ideal or conducive mentality for me to have if I want to excel or rise within my company.

Anyway, I decided the other day, in a desperate attempt to break-out of my routine, to take up the banjo, switch gyms, buy a pair of skis (I'm a long-time snowboarder) and... well... start this blog. Any day now I'll be banjo battling Steve Martin, pumping iron like the big dogs, skiing with the pros and well... blogging some more. Hopefully this will provide the creative outlet that I am probably looking for. So far I've been pretty happy with these changes.

In conclusion, we work to make money to pay for the things that we need and for some of the things that we want. I always thought that I'd find a job that I loved and that work would be fun. Maybe I still will. But a friend recently said to me, "Work sucks for everyone - it just sucks less for some people than for others. It's all varying degrees of suckiness." Words of wisdom? Or the pessimistic perception...? I suppose, in the end, it's all about the balance.

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.)