Wendy Wasserstein has died. This probably doesn't mean much to non-theatre types or non-feminist types. But for those of us who are both, this is a sad day indeed. Rest in peace, you goddess of the American stage.

From an AP story about the Senate Judiciary Committee vote on Alito's nomination:

And Sen. Jon Kyl, R-Ariz., warned that Republicans would remember the party-line Alito vote in future Supreme Court nominations, considering several Republicans voted for Justices Stephen Breyer and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who were nominated by President Clinton.

“It is simply unrealistic to think that one party would put itself at a disadvantage by eschewing political considerations while the other party almost unanimously applies such considerations,” Kyl said. “So I say to my Democratic friends: Think carefully about what is being done today. Its impact will be felt well beyond this particular nominee.”

So Kyl says that Democrats shouldn't vote along their party lines on a contentious, out-of-the-mainstream nominee for a lifetime appointment because, basically, "turnabout is fair play." It's kind of funny that this is a guy who extols the virtues of the nuclear option as though his party will always be in the majority.

Sweet poetic justice would be a filibuster of Alito, triggering the Republicans to initiate the nuclear option, which is overwhelmingly unpopular, leading them to lose their majority in the Senate in November, leading them to having to function in a Democratically-controlled Senate with no option to fillibuster future Democratic judicial appointments to which they object and would oppose along party lines.

I won't even touch his faux-altruism about "escewing political considerations".

From an AP feed about the Republican National Committee winter meeting:

Mehlman couldn't have been more blunt: "One of the oldest lessons of history is that power corrupts," he said, telling RNC members that any Republicans guilty of illegal behavior should be punished.

Emphasis mine. It's a clever parsing of words: "guilty of illegal behavior." But who's writing, passing and signing the laws? It's not just about illegal behavior. It's about ethics too.

And morals. Remember those? You know, the core system of beliefs about what is right and wrong that were alleged to have decided the 2004 elections.

With all the loopholes in election laws and House ethics rules, it's unlikely many Congresscritters' transgressions would rise to Mehlman's lukewarm standard of behavior.

And just in case you plan to try and plant the "Democrats did it too" argument in a comment, not a single Democrat has ever received a campaign contribution from Jack Abramoff. From some of his clients, perhaps, but not from the fabisina himself. And those same clients lost the most by trusting the lobbyist. In some ways, what he did to them was the most immoral of all.

But why let morals get in the way when you can just hide behind the laws your cronies pass?

I know as actors our job is usually to shed our skins, but I think as people our job is to become who we really are and so I would like to salute the men and women who brave ostracism, alienation and a life lived on the margins to become who they really are.

That's Felicity Huffman accepting her Golden Globe last night for best actress in a motion picture drama for her role in TransAmerica. The woman's a real class act.

I went to see Brokeback Mountain this weekend. Not because I particularly care for cowboys, gay or otherwise, but because I needed to prepare myself for the anticipated barrage of people asking me if I've seen it because I'm of the queer persuasion myself.

First, let me say that it is a well-acted film. What I really liked about it though was the way it evoked a very definite time and place in every scene. Ang Lee really did a remarkable job with that. I love a good period film, regardless of the period.

I was reminded of a road trip through the south that I took about five years ago. Travelling through some of those little towns, it seemed like nothing had changed in those communities in fifty years. Like Brokeback, they're lovely, comforting places to visit, but I'd never want to live there.

I call them comforting not because they have a particularly welcoming attitude toward my kind (choose your pick which "kind" I mean - the gay, the Jew, the atheist and so forth). I find small towns like that, towns that time seems to have forgotten, comforting because I grew up in one of them. The WalMart was only built in my hometown after I moved away.

I really love the small-town Americana that Brokeback Mountain recreated. I fould myself thinking about the K-Mart in the Hackettstown Mall, a store and a mall which no longer exist. The K-Mart hadn't been renovated since the 1970's, so it always had this comforting dated essence that always reminded me of my childhood.

To be perfectly honest, I couldn't care less about cowboys. I went to see this movie because of the prospect of seeing two hotties getting it on. Don't get me wrong, they're both fine actors (as are Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway - Hathaway's character was the most compelling in the movie for me), but the only reason I ventured out to The Loft was to see Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger get naked. Call me shallow, but cowboys are generally a turnoff for me and this was the only thing that could keep my interest while fulfilling my dudely duty.

The story is pretty straightforward and I suppose not uncommon among the gays, at least from what I read on the movie's website, though I find the whole idea of staying in the closet for twenty years rather than just growing up and expressing your emotions rather silly and pointless.

I'm really disappointed that people are going to see this movie just because it has cowboys who happen to like to play hide the salami with each other. "They're so brave!" and "It's so beautiful!" people exclaim, as if hiding a love affair takes courage or determination. These characters are not role models. They are seriously flawed individuals who lie and deceive. Yet they are being loudly lauded by the gay community. It's really rather silly.

You know what else is silly? The whole rugged individualism thing so in vogue in Arizona today and portrayed so disarmingly by Heath Ledger in the movie. It's a concept I confess I don't really understand. I think it's just stupid to not express your emotions or be honest about how you feel about someone, for better or worse. That stoicism and go-it-alone attitude might be popular with the mindless masses who joined me in the movie theatre on Saturday night, but I'll stick to wearing my heart on my sleeve and speaking my mind, thankyouverymuch.

The irony, of course, is that I'm quite content to go it alone. Perhaps that's why I'm not one of those 'mos that's showing slavish devotion to this movie: I'm entirely anti-romantic when it comes to the kind of sentimental fluff that's being read into the story. It's sad that Ennis can't bring himself to make a life with Jack, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. Sure there are massive social and cultural pressures to contend with in the world of this film, but I'm the kind of person who rages against the machine rather than taking my place as a cog in it.

That most trite of lines toward the end of the movie sums it up best. With the pressure to see and love every mainstream queer movie to hit the theatres, I'm sick of the maudlin, wrought, often pedantic schlock that's targetting this most niche of markets. I wish I knew how to quit you indeed.

And one more thing: Jack and Ennis are not gay cowboys. They are cowboys who have sex with each other. Repeatedly. But it is clear that neither of them identifies as queer (Ledger's character says as much early in the film and again later). Journalists and critics do a disservice to the gay community by lumping these two hapless fools in with the rest of us.

By giving these two characters license to be labeled gay, it excuses all the other not-quite-queer-identified folks who don't really feel a need to fight oppression, be it their own or anyone else's. By film's end, Brokeback Mountain does little more than perpetuate the backlash against the queer activist by making it OK to never question or challenge the status quo.

(This was going to be a lot more eloquent and focus a lot more on the backlash, but it's late and I'll get around to it later.)

I'm just busting with excitement about this (mostly because I'm a nerd who gets excited by this kind of thing).

As you know, the vaginas are getting foxy this winter, but now being part of the audience is even easier!

Tickets for the V-Day Tucson 2006 production of Eve Ensler's "The Vagina Monologues" are now available online at the V-Day Tucson 2006 website for purchase with Visa, MasterCard or PayPal. This includes general admission tickets, tickets to our VIP Pre-Show Wine & Cheese Reception, VIP "loge loveseat" tickets and limited income tickets.

It's all automated now, so no muss, no fuss. Talk about one for the "if I knew then what I know now" file...

My sister asked me the other day why I never write anything personal on this blog and why it's all commentary on current events and opinion-y and whatnot.

Well the obvious answer is that I don't like sharing my deepest, most intimate thoughts and feelings with every Joe Schmoe with an internet connection.

I also don't think anybody really cares about how my day is going or how much I abhor plodding Tucson drivers.

Also, pouring my heart out isn't what potential clients are looking for.

But since I'm feeling a little morose and am having one of my many over-analytical self-pity-fests, I figured I'd indulge my sister in a little introverted blogging. This is for you, Deb:

Either by coincidence, boredom or necessity, I've spent the better part of the evening taking stock of my life. Truth be told, I've been doing so for the better part of the last week and a half. Birthdays seem like natural times to do this sort of thing, so off I went. And I'm still going.

I moved to Tucson a little more than three years ago in a self-deluded haze. That haze quickly dissipated and I was left in a town that felt foreign, harsh, ugly and uncomfortable. And yet, though I've never felt as though I fit in here, I think I've "done" Tucson pretty well in a very short amount of time. Hell, I won a frickin' award this summer for being a "community and business leader" when I'd only lived in the community for fewer than three years!

And that's the start of this, my most recent existential dilemma. Actually, the start came a few days before my birthday when my brother made the very generous offer of a place to stay as I got on my feet if I wanted to move to Oregon. I don't speak with either of my siblings very frequently, mostly because I lack follow-through in that area, which made his offer all the more extraordinarily generous. Of course, he also knows he'd get free child care out of the deal, but I'm trying not to be too cynical. He's a good guy and I appreciate the offer and I'd genuinely consider it.

Part of the problem with that offer is that I don't think the Pacific Northwest is anymore "me" than the Desert Southwest. Well, maybe a little bit more. I like Portland well enough, but I don't think it's a place I could call home. The other problem with that plan is that I'm a terrible roommate. It would be even worse with me dealing with kids (who are adorable but waaaaaay high energy) and dogs and adding my cat to the family mix. I won't abandon Leif simply because I want to get the hell out of Dodge.

I've been talking about moving back to the east coast virtually since I moved away from it. The pace and the aesthetic and the attitude are much more my speed, style and demeanor, respectively. I have friends in Philadelphia, Boston, New York City, DC and Ithaca, so I would at least have support networks in any of those places, and very likely temporary housing on top of that if I needed it.

To complicate matters further, at least in my dramatic little mind, my best friend Jason - the one I followed to Tucson in that self-deluded haze - and his family are now reconsidering their move to the east coast to center on the NYC area. Which is exactly where most of my moving daydreams have also centered on.

The haze has long since vanished (we're both grateful for that!), but I'm left with the nagging feeling that I can't keep following him around the country for the rest of my life. Even with the haze gone and me making another cross-country move with both eyes open, it still feels kind of pathetic that I make such a big fuss about being independent but can't make a major decision independently.

The other factor in all this is, as it always has been, money. Jason told me tonight that they're thinking of trying to make the move when their current lease expires in October-ish. There's no way on earth that I'd be able to afford to move that soon, even with cashing out my PTO. There's also the little matter of my lease expiring at the end of March.

As much as I've not been thrilled with Tucson, it's always been a badge of pride for me that I just made the decision four years ago to pick up my entire life and move to a state I'd never seen before. That's the kind of thing you do in your early-mid twenties, but not necessarily so easyily in your mid-late twenties. Or maybe I'm just adding that bit of neurosis for dramatic effect.

The point is, I don't really love Tucson but I don't know if I could handle another cross-country move into uncertainty - either emotionally or financially. Tucson is small, which makes it manageable.

And the longer I wait to make these major changes, the more difficult they become. This is the part where I begrudgingly admit that it's easier to make these drastic changes as part of a team. But I have no team, at least none that I wouldn't feel pathetic joining. That and I'm not much of a team player. Either I get to be team captain or I take my ball and go home.

Maybe I'm just being silly, but as I have always said, I can't control how I feel. I can control how those feelings are realized, but not the feelings themselves.

The final layer of course is my parents. They moved to Chandler from New Jersey about a year after I moved to Tucson so they could be closer to their kids and grandkids. My moving back to the east coast would probably upset them. Contrary to popular expectations, I do sort of like having them relatively close by. It's a complicated relationship, that. The only word that can capture this layer is "oy" and I'll leave it at that.

So that's where I am in the grand scheme of stock-taking ("better stop and take stock while you're standing here stuck on the steps of the palace!"). I guess the word for how I'm feeling right now is trapped.

Trapped, but safe.

I want to leave, but I've become so averse to taking risks. How many times can I start over? How many deferments will the government give me on those student loans? How boring have I become that I risk so little?

So I guess I'll just toss and turn for another night as I try to sort it all out, try to decide what I want to do when I grow up. At the end of the day, perhaps all I really need to do is just...grow up.