Since I last posted . . .

I saw The Kids Are All Right, Inception and The Young Victoria. I loved Kids the most; Maree and I sat in the theater for a good ten minutes after the credits rolled, hugging each other and happy crying. Annette Bening's performance blew me away.

Queens for a year.

Attention readers: In two weeks, I'm trading the high-rises of Manhattan for the row-houses of Astoria. Gone will be my immediate access to the Union Square Barnes & Noble and the Madison Square Park Shake Shack. In their stead, I'm gaining a bigger, cheaper apartment and a new neighborhood to explore. Exploration, however, benefits from recommendation, and so I ask you this: have any of you ever been to Queens, and if so, where should I go when I get there?

Happy birthday.

This afternoon, (Title Pending) turns one. A year ago today, I was sitting in my apartment in Worcester, MA, procrastinating studying for my American Film final. Last May, I raced at the Eastern Sprints, graduated college, and flew to California for the National Rowing Championships. Erick, Kevin and I moved out of our apartment, and myself, Erick, Adam, Bratton, Jimmy, and Terry took our final strokes as Holy Cross rowers. Two days before flying to California, my dad's father died, and for the entire month, I had one of the worst cases of Poison Ivy known to man. It was an emotional time.

Here we go.

This is going to be one of my "written in a fervor of idealism" posts. By now, regular readers have likely realized a few of my Hot Topics - the rights of women and gay dudes. More often than not, I stray away from the personal/political on this blog because a) I get preachy pretty quick and b) it's easier to write about The Hills than the complexities of human sexuality on a regular basis. Today, however, I can't help but toss Heidi and Spencer aside, in favor of a more complicated/less plastic discussion.

In living color.

A little over a month ago, I finally saw Wicked. I am eternally grateful to my great friend, Cassie, who scored us third row seats, and patted my shoulder during both "Defying Gravity," and "For Good," (otherwise known as The Two Songs That Will Make You Cry, Or Else You Have No Feelings). We sat behind a lovely pair of women who sobbed for the entire second act, and exchanged kind words with us upon the show's completion.

Welcome back.

Check the sidebar for the January playlist. It's a little dated (Flo Rida?); you can expect a fresher take in February. Still, highlights include: "One Week of Danger," "Kids," and "Heart's a Mess."

I'm halfway through Changing My Mind and The House of the Spirits, hopefully I can finish both over the next week or two. My list then consists of Let the Great World Spin, The Vagrants, Serena, and The Best American Short Stories 2009.

Finally, expect Life is a Beach to continue. I've been having a blast writing about Kristin, and company; I hope you've been enjoying my attempts at humor and sociological insight. Cabo awaits!

Beccamendations.

My apologies for disappearing last week. I didn't plan a hiatus, but life demanded one nonetheless. I hope you all had a pleasant weekend.

During my absence, I discovered Beccamendations a blog written by my friend Becca Marsh. I met Becca at Columbia, where her impeccable grammar helped to redeem my early attempts at copy-writing. She also loves Jacob Clifton, so you know she has good taste. Her Glee recaps (Gleecaps!) are a pure delight in which she defends Terri Shuester's life choices and Finn Hudson's dancing ability with equal vigor (go read them, I'll wait). I particularly enjoyed her analysis of the Shuester marriage:

"He's not the man he thought he would be, and that's why he's here. He never left town, never became a star, never had an audience worth bragging about. He never got that special thing that everyone coveted – unless you count Terri. She's still the head cheerleader in his mind, beautiful, pristine, forever young. She's the high school triumph he managed to hold on to, but a trophy by any other name is still a trophy . . . This marriage works because he doesn't feel good about himself."

I miss this.

Today is one of those perfect fall days that make my heart ache with memory. It's not too hot, it's not too cold. As a rower, you don't expect this weather in November. In November, you expect snow. Some days though, it's nice. You wear shorts, maybe a long-sleeve t-shirt. The sun feels good on your face. The air is still, quiet. The water barely moves. The coxswain doesn't yell too loud; the fall season is over. Days like today are gravy, dessert; they're another day you don't climb onto an erg and prepare to die. Days like today are nice.

Today, I wish I was back at Holy Cross, putting the boat in the water on Lake Quinsig. Bratton would be talking about farts or facial hair, making us laugh. Adam would be wearing sunglasses, even when the dark comes early, changing his clothes over and over between every piece, leading by example. Erick might crack a smile, briefly, before setting his mind to the task at hand, reminding us of our purpose. We would probably be waiting for Jimmy, speeding down 290 on his way from ROTC, stretching himself thin to stay a part of our little family.

Today would be one of those days I look around and feel love for my teammates, my brothers, for the boat, and the water, the feeling of the eight us pushing and pulling together, as one. Today, we would take the rating from an 18 to a 36 and stomp the shit out of our competition. We would get off the water flushed and tired and at peace. Today, we would be reminded of why we fight, why we log the long hours, why we sacrifice so much for each other. Today would be a good day.

Homework.

I'm heading home tonight. After two months in New York, I can't wait to smell the ocean, eat Mom's cooking, and sleep all day. I need a restful/sober weekend, you guys. October was fun, but damn, I'm tired. I wish you all a Halloween complete with sugar-highs, ridiculous costumes, and whatever form of general debauchery your heart desires. Stay safe, and have fun; I'll be back on Monday. In the meantime, check out the following if you find yourself with too much free time this weekend:

Jacob Clifton's latest Gossip Girl recap. In which he addresses the girl power/gay power Serena stuff I always talk about, except he's a genius and quotes classic literature. Give the guy a few pages, and you'll be hooked. He's the most underrated writer in America.

The Tomato Nation 2009 Contest is coming to a close this weekend. It's not too late to donate money towards a variety of educational initiatives via DonorsChoose. A really amazing effort from Sarah Bunting and her readers. Even if you can't afford to donate, dig through her archives, her tough love advice column is informative and hilarious.

Interested in British pop music and/or comic books? If Destroyed, Still True is a smart pop culture blog from across the pond. Paul O'Brien inspired my own X-Men fandom.

Lastly, What's Alan Watching? is a couch potato's dream. Sepinwall provides in-depth analysis of any show worth talking about; his Mad Men posts are fantastic. Get caught up for Sunday's episode in between costume donning and candy scarfing. I'll be playing my parents' new Wii (in my pajamas) (at 4 pm) (yay!).

My so-called life.

I recently alluded to changes in my status quo; allow me to explain. For two weeks, I interned at a boutique literary agency. There, I read all kinds of things, mostly manuscripts and query letters. Piece of advice: if you're going to query your New Literary Novel, spell the agent's name right. Last week, I got a full-time job working as the assistant here. Today's my third day. My responsibilities include writing for their blog; you can now read more from me here. I'm liking it a great deal so far.

In other news, if you live in Maine, do the country a favor and vote to legalize gay marriage. My home parish apparently took an extra collection last week to raise money in opposition. Nothing says "God is love" like asking your parishoners, mid-service, to donate money in support of state enforced discrimination. Let's give Catholicism a hand! Seriously, I could write another 10,000 words about this, but I won't. It's common sense. Gay marriage isn't anybody's business except for the couple in the relationship. No one is trying to gay-marry the Pope.

Defying gravity.

A few days ago, I exclaimed via Twitter my excitement that Rachel and Kurt are singing "Defying Gravity" on the next episode of Glee. It's probably obvious that I'd be excited about my favorite song (inspired by my favorite book) being sung on one of my favorite TV shows. That's a lot of favorite crammed into 3-5 minutes. It's something to dork out about, but it's also something to consider seriously in light of the times in which we live.

"Defying Gravity" is one of those songs that excites a bodily reaction. Your heart starts pumping, you get chills, you cry. The first time I heard it, I got an adrenaline rush like I would get at the starting line of a 2k crew race. It's a fucking powerful song. It's the story of a woman coming into her own, specifically, the moment Elphaba Thropp realizes she's a total fucking bad ass, that the Wizard of Oz is full of shit, and that she can doing something about it. It's about a little green girl deciding she's not afraid anymore, that the room she's lived in all her life is a room of her own making, and that all she has to do is step outside. It's about realizing you're beautiful, powerful, perfect.

You could also say it's a story about Emma Frost relinquishing her diamond form, stepping out into the world, and burning like the Phoenix we all are. There's a reason I quote Wicked and Jacob Clifton's Gossip Girl recaps and Grant Morrison's New X-Men all the time. If I had my way, every teenage girl and gay boy would read them. America loves telling teenage girls and gay boys that they belong in dark rooms, that their sexuality is something dangerous and scary. Girls get pregnant, queers get AIDS, and anyone who thinks otherwise is deranged. Kids everywhere internalize that shit. They bottle it up, and learn to fear their own bodies. They stay little green girls in dark rooms, when really they are a Phoenix.

Things are changing, though. Just last week Puck asked Rachel if she wanted to make out and she shrugged and said "okay." Things are changing, one "Never gonna bring me down," at a time. That said, make sure to tune in to the next episode of Glee because one teenage girl and one teenage gay boy are going to tell us a story. It's a story we've already heard, but I think it bears repeating. Those kids need us now more than ever. Let's burn.

Pure magic.

I made it to New York, and am getting settled just fine. To tide you over until I get a more reliable Internet connection, here are some of my favorite quotes from my favorite book, Gregory Maguire's Wicked:

"'We could get together, we could have a quiet dinner party together in our rooms upstairs. Please, Fiyero . . . It would do me such an honor.' She cocked her head and put a single finger to her chin, elegantly, and he could tell she was struggling through the language of her class to say something real." (Glinda and Fiyero, pg. 210)

"'Yes, Papa, I'm here,' she answered, with child's politeness . . . She sat down, wary, tired, astonished at the wealth of her own feeling for him. She was full of need. But, she reminded herself, you're a grown woman." (Elphaba and her father, Frex, pg. 307)

"'I'm drunk and disorderly,' [the Witch] said, 'and I cannot take any more riddles. I killed someone today, I can kill you too."

'You didn't kill her, she was already dead,' said the dwarf calmly. 'And you can't kill me, for I'm immortal. But you try very hard at life, and so I will tell you this . . . you are a new breed, you are a grafted limb, you are a dangerous anomaly. Always you were drawn to the composite creatures, the broken and reassembled, for that is what you are.'" (Elphaba and the dwarf, pgs. 373-4).

Start spreading the news.

I'm leaving Portland on Thursday. It's time I get back to New York, and start my post-grad life (I know it started on May 22nd or whenever, but now it feels like it's starting for real). I still don't have a job, but I do have an apartment complete with a dishwasher (!) and two roommates who aren't strangers. The employment thing will happen.

Regardless, I'm moving, so I won't be writing much for the rest of the week. I know I don't keep the most diligent blogging schedule, but that's due for a change once I'm settled. Before I go, here are some quick thoughts on the latest entertainment I've absorbed:

• I raced through Brett Easton Ellis' Less Than Zero last night/this afternoon. It's a fucked up examination of the morally depraved, materially excessive culture of early 80's Los Angeles. All the characters do coke, are bisexual, and never sleep; you feel like you're holding your breath through the whole thing. These kids don't have anything to lose, so they constantly push the limits of acceptable behavior. It didn't disturb me so much as intrigue me. Like Clay, the narrator, I had a queasy desire to "see the worst" the characters were capable of. I think that's the point.

• Last night's Mad Men ("My Old Kentucky Home") was the best of the season, so far. Much tighter pacing/writing all around, with ample time given to the majority of the supporting cast. Did anyone else have the sinking feeling Grandpa Gene was going to do something really horrific to either Sally or Carla? Their scenes were tense. Episode highlights included everything Peggy or Joan did/said, Pete and Trudy dancing, and Don's conversation with the random man behind the bar.

See you in September.