Mastering Memphis, step two

The bubble did extend to Memphis. To be fair, though, not to all of Memphis, just part (the part I was in). And, to be honest, it was in me as well. Based on everything I have learned and experienced here in Memphis - and I hope based on who I am now - I can see that the person I was when I came suffered unknowingly from a few deficiencies. I've dealt with those and I'll cover them here, but first, I had/have to deal with the more pressing early obstacles (for lack of a better term) in my first few years in Memphis: Biff and McFly.

My first exposure to this oddest of odd couples was during the summer before my move to Memphis.  I had been given a number whereby I could speak with Biff about our living arrangements, as Biff and McFly were already living in the apartment we would share.  The conversation was short, but I remember distinctly asking Biff if there was room for a couch that I wanted to bring.  Biff's reply was confusing.  "No," he said, "I have a weight bench."

When it was all over, I would have two years worth of stories and encounters like this.  As they occured, I would literally have at least one per day.  I've forgotten many of them, but there are a few that remain firmly lodged in my memory.

I remember my first few weeks in Memphis vividly.  After moving my stuff to the second bedroom in our two-story town home apartment, my parents and I stuck around to meet my new roommates, the aforementioned Biff and McFly.  I call them that because Biff actually looked a lot like Biff.  McFly was shorter and more animated and the two of them shared a room and spent a lot of time together, so it just makes sense.  We stayed for about an hour getting to know B&M before leaving for dinner.  I remember my dad telling me later, "I don't think you should believe everything [Biff] tells you."  In the weeks before school, I wouldn't.  In fact, I didn't stick around long enough to hear a word.  Every morning, I would wake up early, eat breakfast, and leave the house.  I'd come home for dinner and retire to my room.  In between, I drove around Memphis, trying to figure out where things were located.  At least, that's what I told people.  The truth is,  B&M were spending their free time (read: ALL day) playing a Dungeons & Dragons-type video game on the living room (read: only place to sit besides bedroom) TV (read: only one in the apartment/mine) and I wasn't interested in watching someone else play for 12 hour blocks at a time.  This went on for two weeks.  Wake up, drive around aimlessly, avoid eye contact, repeat.

The night before classes began, there was a meet and greet for new students.  I was sitting at a table with B&M when someone asked what they had done in the weeks off between summer classes and the fall semester.  I answered for them, that their time had been spent primarily playing video games.  Out of nowhere, McFly snapped in my direction, "Take it down, Nick.  Take. It. Down."  Sparing the details (there is a convoluted and totall ridiculous explanation), I quickly learned that avoidance would be my best tactic with B&M.  As an aside, it was an almost daily routine for McFly to pull out a knife from the steak knife set he kept in the kitchen and loudly proclaim that if he ever got into a bar fight, he would come back to the apartment and get a knife then go back and stab someone.

One other story begs retelling.  Later that fall, I returned to the apartment and walked quickly upstairs.  I passed the bathroom and noticed that five whole tomatoes were resting on the floor, each one crushed and slowly oozing juice out on the floor.  The floor was their final resting place, but not the only place they had been.  Five matching streaks of tomato juice stained the far wall of the bathroom, leaving an easy trail to follow.  I turned 180 degrees and risked a glance into the room of Biff and McFly.

"Hey, Biff?  There's tomatoes in the bathroom."
"Yeah, there are."
"Um, do you know why there are tomatoes in the bathroom?"
"Yes."
(waiting)
"Biff, would you care to explain?"
"Well, McFly was singing in the shower."
"And...?"
"I didn't like it."
"I don't follow."
"Well, I told him that if he didn't stop singing, I would throw tomatoes at him."
"Uh huh.  And I take he didn't stop."
"That's right."
"Are you going to clean that up?"
"Maybe later."

There are those who suggested that I married Jesse just so I wouldn't have to live in that apartment anymore.  There are those who told me when I arrived that they had specifically prayed for whoever would be sharing an apartment with B&M.  I say that now I have some really great stories to tell.  It was rarely easy and frequently awkward, but it's a part of my story in Memphis.  It wouldn't be right to just take it down.

new names

I've decided to go with something simple.  Nerd confession: I keep three blogs on blogger.  One is a private journal, which I have renamed meditatio.  Another is also a private blog for more literary endeavors, which I have renamed oratio.  And, the third is this one, which is now titled contemplatio.  I've named my blogs after latin phrases commonly used to represent fundamental principles of the contemplative life.  This fits with a personal goal of mine to become a more contemplative person in an effort to simplify my life in this world and to deepen my life in the Spirit.  Now that I've graduated, I'm trying to focus myself even more on growing my heart in God.  I feel as though my mind has gotten a head start (oh, that's a pun - unintentional) and I'd like my heart to catch up and perhaps even take the lead from here on.  So, there you go.  I recently deleted all but two of the games on my iphone (I left the two I never really want to play but might if I were stuck in an airport) and I've renamed my blogs.  Lame, but it's a start.

name change

Now taking suggestions for a new title for the blog.  Chad Billy-Steve Pknicholson doesn't even make sense to me anymore, even though I know what it means....

Until then, it's a shout out to Arrested Development.

Mastering Memphis, step one

Not all people are wired the same way. Some people play video games because they love the challenge. They only play their games on the most difficult setting. They like having three lives to challenge 1 billion immortal zombies, or they like it when the QB throws a pick on their own 20 with 30 seconds left in the fourth when they're up by three.

I don't get those people. I prefer utter domination. I play the game on the easiest setting first and wait until I'm winning football games 250 - 0 to advance to the next level (250 because the game stops counting points at that number). I prefer mastery.

Knowing this about me, you would think that I'd be pretty excited to have graduated last Saturday with my masters. You'd be right. Officially, I have letters after my name. Unofficially, Masters of Divinity has to be in the running for most egregious misnomer in history. Still, I've got the paper and the library to show for it, so there's that.

Graduations are by nature both ultimate and penultimate experiences. They are pivotal moments, the last step of one journey and the start of another, one apex before the next. Since this one, right now, feels more like a last step than a first one, I thought I would take a few posts to look back at the steps that got me here...


Most college seniors spend their last spring break, well, reinforcing the stereotype of last spring breaks. I spent mine with my dad. We took the week to travel to Pasadena and Chicago to visit Fuller Theological and Trinity seminaries, respectively. The weather in California was fantastic. The cost of living? Not as much. It snowed in Chicago. I had a great time with Dad, but the trip didn't give me much clarity about what to do. My main goal was to get outside of the normal CofC stream and expose myself to new ideas and challenge the ones that had become my own. When I got back to Searcy, I decided to talk to a few professors to see what direction they could provide. Dr. Ken Neller helped me understand more about the language of seminary and how to make distinctions between what each school was telling me about what they taught. Dr. Fortner told me, quite simply, that if I wanted to read as many different ideas as possible I should go to HUGSR in Memphis. He told me that I wouldn't necessarily find a broader perspective at the schools where I was looking than what I would get in Memphis. Dr. Monte Cox, a Trinity alum, told me the same thing. I was skeptical but trusted their advice and experience over mine.

In a few weeks, I had applied, gotten accepted, and had received a very nice scholarship offer that included working as a graduate assistant for Dr. Allen Black. All those spring breaks spent at less than tropical climates had literally paid off. After a brief period of deliberation, I accepted the offer. I would join my friends, Bob, Bobby, and Greg (admit it, you were thinking Robert) in the fall at Harding University Graduate School of Religion. I would live on campus. I would work as a GA. And I would pray that Memphis proved to be well outside of the Harding bubble.

A 1000 Words or Less

I would have done the same thing. Really. I get it. I mean, if you had the choice between eating a donut and holding a baby, you drop the baby, right?

So when Sophie dropped her "baby" on the floor at Gibson's, no one got mad. We all understood the hierarchy. Chocolate donut, then everything else. The only thing I can disagree with is that I would have gone with the glazed.

The tables are a tight fit at Gibson's. Maybe it's a subtle reminder not to overeat? Regardless, it was tough to reach the scorned baby lying hopelessly on the floor in a puddle of glaze and sprinkles. The best we could do was have Jesse pick it up with her feet and swing them in my direction so I could grab the baby.

Holding the baby, I glanced at Sophie. She looked at the last bit of chocolate donut in her hands, made a feeble attempt to lick off her still-shiny chocolate lip gloss and reached half-heartedly for the baby.

"How about if I hold the baby until you finish?" I offered.

"Mrmshmshrehad," she mumbled in reply and returned to the donut.

Momentary distraction aside, Josh and Brooke and Jesse and I returned to the conversation at hand. Until we all realized how funny it was that I was holding a baby.

And so, for your pleasure, the following picture was taken: