I <3 hiking.

You folks out there must be thinking, "What? Three posts in a single calendar month? Someone get a hold of this man and throw him in the looney bin, because that's not the Matt Barham I know!" What can I say - I'm living dangerously these days.

...which would explain why I have multiple cuts on my hands and legs of jello... but yet I couldn't feel better!

Let me back up. When I realized I'd have some extra time on my hands this week, I thought I'd go hiking around Pilot Mountain but didn't get around to it until this morning. And let me tell you, this was the worst job of preparation I've ever done for a hike: I failed to check the weather, which meant I didn't bring my hat or an appropriate rain coat, so of course it rained on me. Then I somehow brought three pairs of uncharged batteries for my camera, so I have exactly zero pictures to show for my efforts, plus my cell phone died on the way up. But I soldiered on despite these disappointing revelations, and proceeded to have a blast. The biggest surprise of the day came when I found a group of hundreds of ladybugs, just chillin' out in the rocks like it was the most natural thing in the world. I dunno about you, but a mountain in 50-degree weather is not where I'd go if I were a ladybug. Not that I often daydream about being a ladybug...

It was nice being out in the rain because, even though I got soaking wet by the end of the morning, nobody else was around. This meant I could have humorous conversations with myself and not worry about weird looks from other hikers, plus I could have a little fun striking poses on the tops of outcroppings and singing goofy renditions of "Climb Ev'ry Mountain." The biggest downside to the rain and fog (besides the obvious) was that I managed to get lost for about 15 minutes because I couldn't find the trail down. Since I was climbing around the knob, which is a circular formation, I figured I'd eventually find the trail back and be on my way. Unfortunately, I missed the trail and didn't know it until I started seeing some familiar formations and trees, at which point I had to backtrack, second-guessing myself every step of the way and unable to re-orient myself because I couldn't see the sun or anything else over 50 feet away. Oh well, I found my way back.

All in all, a good day. Now if I just had some pictures...

Music

I've always thought of myself as someone with eclectic music preferences, but my library mostly consists of classical pieces and movie soundtracks, making my claim of eclecticity dubious at best. But I dug out my Christmas present of music download gift cards, and now I can legitimately claim to like most anything. Here are my selections from last night:

Lose Yourself (from 8Mile)
Eminem
YMCA
Village People
Rock And Roll
Led Zeppelin
You Know My Name (from Casino Royale)
Chris Cornell
My Girl
The Temptations
You've Got A Friend In Me (from Toy Story) Randy Newman
Mad World (from Donnie Darko)
Michael Andrews
Take On Me
a-ha
Flying Theme (from E.T.)
Boston Pops

So there you have it. Rap, oldies, classic rock, 80's synth pop, depressing, uplifting, feel good and contemporary rock, all here. Oh, and YMCA.

Just something light to share with everyone.

Boldness and Control

Just something on my mind as the evening winds down...

Why is the boldest course of action the easiest to envision but the hardest to enact? It's easy enough to think about dropping everything and running off to travel the world, or volunteering for some relief/aid agency in a remote corner of the globe, or telling someone what I really think/feel about him/her, but no, I stay in safety. I tolerate the annoying customer, I smile at the jerk and treat with mere friendliness the girl I want to ask out; I remain with my job, my apartment, my shell.

Is it better to stay this way? I do take pride in my ability to approach most things diplomatically, to rationally examine alternate and opposing thoughts or actions and determine the merits and disadvantages of each. Yet sometimes I feel shackled to civility. Most of the time I'm Spock, and that's fine; I just wanna be Kirk on occasion. I guess it boils down to a desire to express myself honestly to the rest of the world. Perhaps I should maintain the Vulcan commitment to logic and emotional control when I'm talking politics or making decisions and open up more when dealing with matters of the heart.

Well, I suppose that's it for now. I hope to write more often in 2009, so stay tuned!

There's a lot to talk about, but I'll leave that for later. For now, I just wanted to pass along an e-mail forward that even this bleeding-heart anti-Iraq war liberal appreciated. No critiques, no politics; I like this Christmas poem just the way it is.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

'What are you doing?' I asked without fear,
'Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!'
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said 'Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.'
'It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,'
Then he sighed, 'That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.'
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.'

' So go back inside,' he said, 'harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right.'
'But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
'Give you money,' I asked, 'or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son.'

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
'Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.'

---------------------------------

Have a safe and happy holiday season.

But wait! There's more!

I feel that after my previous post, I ought to at least share my thoughts about McCain's speech. I'm kinda tired, so I'll keep it simple.

I liked it a lot more than Sarah Palin's. Much more respectful, much more inspiring. I usually think Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are dead-on with their analysis, but this time around, their charges of "McCain is boring" fell flat.

Suffice it to say I don't think it would be the end of the world if Senator McCain became the President. I just hope he doesn't keel over in office, because I'm not sure I could handle Palin in the Oval Office.

I guess that's all. Just wanted to prove that I'm not 100% biased. Ta-da!

Wow.

Ten years ago, I would have loved Sarah Palin. Now I think she's possibly the worst thing to happen to this election.

Say what you will about Palin only being picked because she's a woman. I'm gravely concerned about her attacking speech and the fires it may have lit. Roland Martin of CNN almost jumped out of his seat because of Palin's reference to community organizers. Carl Bernstein voiced his dismay at the "return of the old culture wars."

Governor Palin last night gave a speech that, I must say, almost dares Democrats to abandon the relatively high-minded ideals they have touted throughout the last year and dive headlong into bickering and name-calling. I sure hope they don't. The best thing for Obama and the country is to downplay this antagonistic speech. Count to ten. Please.

This speech took me back to the days when the media were a bunch of biased liberal intellectuals; when abortion was the #1 issue; when the soul of our country was at stake; when America was primarily a Christian nation; when real Americans lived in the South and Midwest but not in San Francisco or New York; when it was 'us vs. them,' (two homogeneous monoliths without any subtlety or complexity), right vs. wrong - and we were right and ready to fight.

And that's what scares me.

Let me be clear: It's one thing to be pro-life, support Bush's tax cuts or the Iraq war, but it's quite another to make cutting remarks and snidely belittle your opponent. I suppose that's the heart of my objection over Governor Palin's speech: the pugnacious, bring-it-on attitude that knows it's right. She barely offered a conciliatory phrase; in fact, as I review the transcript of the speech, all I can see is one phrase - "There is much to like and admire about our opponent." In contrast, every time I've heard Obama speak about McCain he has praised his war record and character.

With his choice for a running mate, Senator McCain has lost nearly all the respect I had for him just two years ago. He has now fully capitulated to some of the very forces he once bucked to earn the nickname "maverick." How can he retain that title if his VP so clearly embodies the Religious Right? If, as Governor Palin herself said last night, McCain is in Washington "to serve his country, and not just his party," then why would he choose a running mate who stirred up the base of that very party?

Now, in an attempt to balance the above remarks, I will say that Palin's claims of reform impressed me (I say "claims" because immediately after her speech some pundits disputed some of her statements). I also found her push for energy independence appealing, although I'd rather not drill as much as she indicated. As for Obama, I don't believe he is the messiah or that he'll come through on all his promises. He is just a man, after all, and a politician at that. He's already disappointed me a number of times in the last several months. That said, I still think he's the better candidate. His policies line up with my beliefs on green issues, on energy, on Iraq and foreign policy, on the economy, and on health care. And that's a whole 'nother can of worms.

As a side note, I think Paul Begala needs to lose his job. Or suffer facial paralysis. Either way, that smug smile of his has gotta go.

Speaking of needing to leave... so should I! I'd like to hear your responses, especially if you disagree, but I can't promise I'll be able to respond to them. My political posts happen somewhat spontaneously, so who knows when I'll devote this much thought and time to this subject again? In any case, let me know what you think, or if I got something wrong. Just keep it civil.

Spring recap and request

Well, it's been a busy semester: trying out a relationship for five weeks, playing a bit part in the WF Theatre production of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Gondoliers (so much fun!), touring London/Stonehenge/Normandy/Paris with Jennie, taking and failing British Literature, followed by re-evaluating what the crap I'm doing for the umpteenth time. For now, I've set my sights on my degree. In the past two years, I've been content to plod along at the rate of one class per semester; not any longer. Unfortunately, there are two classes I absolutely must complete that will not be offered until at least Fall '09. Soooooooo, that means I'll still maintain my current pace but add to that a class each summer session, and in this way I will fulfill all my requirements for graduation in two years. Class of 2010, here I come!

As exciting as it is to finally have a plan, I've cried more in the last week than I have in quite some time. The reason is the health of my cat, Snowflake. Many of you already know that my cat is mentally unstable: for the last six or seven years, when his stress level reached a certain threshold, like if he was confronted by well-meaning but over-friendly strangers, Snowflake would turn into El Gato Diablo. Screaming, hissing, the stuff of nightmares. Sadly, his condition has worsened dramatically over the last year; instead of being triggered by lots of new smells and noises and people, he is set off by threats imagined in his poor, addled brain. Instead of months between 'episodes,' it's now days or even hours.

Mom had been telling me about this progression for the last several months, and I finally witnessed this fragile state when I went home last weekend. When I walked in the door, along came my furry friend, trotting happily with that look of anticipation of a good scratch behind the ears: Eyes wide, tail straight up save for his trademark candy cane hook to his left, back claws clacking on the kitchen floor. It's the welcome he's given me for over ten years. Within an hour of my arrival, however, that same cat was batting and biting at me wildly, all because Alan had walked too close to him.

Once Mom had successfully lured him into a room upstairs (where he would remain quarantined for almost a full day), she and I had a long, tearful talk about his condition. We agreed that, as much as we love him, the time has come to euthanize dear Snowflake.

There's nothing like deciding to end the life of a friend. Worse still is planning how to go about it. When should we make the appointment? How are we going to get him to the vet? What if he has another meltdown while we're trying to load him up? The last thing I want is to have to cram my cat in the carrier while he's flipping out. Then what happens while we're at the vet? Do we just drop him off? Will we get a chance to say goodbye? Do we want to be there at the very end, or will it be too painful to witness my buddy fading from life, to see that moment when Snowflake is no longer Snowflake but a cat's body?

And then after the vet come the hardest questions of all: Do we want his remains, or should we let the vet dispose of them? As a PetSmart employee, I've delivered dead animals to the in-store vet for disposal. I've seen the shapes of dogs and cats wrapped tightly in tape and garbage bags, and the thought of my friend tied up like waste in a dismal freezer is more than I can bear. But then, if we keep his remains, where will we put them? Should we cremate them and scatter them someplace? No, I don't want to let the cat who had such a solid presence in my life dissolve into the wind. A part of me thinks scattering his ashes would symbolize returning Snowflake to nature, letting go, moving on. As healthy as it sounds, I still want to hold on, to cling desperately to the last vestiges of the cat who for so many years did not change, who serves as a link to so many happy memories going all the way back to December 4, 1994, when at a Christmas party an eleven-year-old boy closed his eyes and held out his hands to find a four-month-old kitten wiggling tentatively in his fingers.

Well, tomorrow's the big day. At 10am, Mom and I will deliver Snowflake to the vet where he will be sedated slightly, then we'll be able to hold him as the final dose is administered. Oh, and as for what to do with his remains? Snowflake was an indoor cat all his life since we have a US highway running just beyond the backyard; we tried letting him out within the fenced area a few times, but of course, my buddy wasn't satisfied and would always start climbing the fence until we shooed him off. It seems appropriate, then, that we bury him just past the fence, where he always wanted to go.

I'd appreciate your thoughts and prayers. I may be fighting tears for a long time to come.