#Upandcoming #Quarterlifer

Reclaiming the quarter-life crisis, one hashtag at a time

Banana Bread (do dooo dodo do)

*Sung to the tune of *

Something that I haven’t done yet is recipes and I recently embarked on a baking adventure that I thought I would share with you all.

Let’s first begin by saying that although I think I’m a somewhat half-decent cook but baking has never been something that I do with any regularity. A couple weeks ago though, the bee-eff and I, in our desires to warm ourselves up physically and spiritually (and get rid of my bunch of rotting bananas), decided it would be fun to make some banana bread. Bee-eff’s mother has a recipe (with modifications) that he likes so we started from there.

banana blog

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The Fag Hag Speaks

Today’s blog post was inspired by this article that’s been floating around my Facebook circles for the last few days: The Myth of the Fag Hag and Dirty Secrets of the Gay Male Subculture written by Rohin Guha. The article touches on a number of issues, but if I were to paraphrase (which, for the record, I try to avoid doing for the most part because it shortchanges people’s stories and experiences) I would say that it acknowledges the existence of a gay-male privilege and dominance which serves to dehumanize and objectify women. The article goes along to encourage gay men to break down their their adopted personas which have thus far served to perpetuate these views and treatment of women.This article really hit home for me, but maybe not in the way that you might expect.


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All About Me: Keeping it Real in Minnesota

I know. I know.

You guys know how it is. One thing leads to another and, all of a sudden, it’s been a month since your last post.

I’ve been busy. Aside from the daily (and not so daily) grind of working at the Minnesota Humanities Center, I’ve been hanging out with my friends from Theoroi, trying to keep warm with these historically low temperatures, planning a group (20-person) trip to Clearwater Beach, FL, and putting out feelers in anticipation for some changes here at #Upandcoming #Quarterlifer.  Keep checking back and you’ll see…

I’ve got a couple more substantial blogs in the pipeline,  but in the meantime, here’s me keeping it real in the Minnesota winter. Excuse my french at the end. Mornings like this tend to get you riled up.


The 6 Unsung Heroes of the Holidays

Jesus. Santa. Hanukkah Harry.

This time of year I feel like some people get all the spotlight!

Not not to take away from any of our commonly celebrated figures, but there are so many other people that go into making all  holidays great! In the flurry of vacations, gift shopping, cookie baking, and all of our holiday traditions, I feel like sometimes it’s easy to forget about all of our “behind the scenes” folks who work to create all of the magic that people feel this time of year.

So, let’s all take a moment to honor all of our forgotten heroes of the holidays!


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27 (semi) Life-Shattering Realizations for my 27th Birthday

You guys. I think it’s time I come clean.

I recently had my birthday.

I’m 27.

My thoughts exactly, Kevin McAllister.

For the first time that I can remember, I was legit sad about getting older. I’m not trying to complain, I know i still have many many great years ahead of me. And, no way in heck am I going to give up my #quarterlifer status. However, on that day and in that moment I felt lonely and old and got to thinking about all of the realizations that I’ve had as I’ve gotten older. Some were sad, some were happy, some were dumb. Some probably were just random day-dreams of stuff that has nothing to do with being 27 at all.

So… here they are!


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#Theoroi Reflections: My First Date with Dave Holland Prism, Liquor, and Jazz

As I mentioned in my last blog post, last weekend’s Saturday was spent at the Dakota Jazz Club listening to Dave Holland Prism with Theoroi, the young-professionals group of the Schubert Club. It was the first of our ten scheduled arts outings this season.

Being the first time at my Dakota, my first time “out-on-the-town,” and my first time seeing a jazz concert in general, I was understandably a little nervous. I was so nervous I did the thing that chicks do when they’re getting ready for a date: got ready like two hours early and then proceeded to sit around so I could be fashionably late.


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