In Support of Romantics and Fanatics: Isn't That the Point?

A Cosmic Ramble and Review of Heated Rivalry

Chapter List:

1. Happy (way belated) birthday to me

2. Rejoining the living

3. To see and feel seen

4. Is this a review?

5. The universe experiences itself

6. Epilogue (the point)

My brother Ricky lighting the candles on my latest birthday cake. It's good to be queen, indeed.

1: Happy (way belated) birthday to me

It wasn’t until college that I began to take issue with my birthday. I remember most of my friends had to travel out of town (including myself) or out of state to go home for the holidays. Immediate family aside, this meant that the people I would want to celebrate my birthday with, couldn’t always be there. And for being three days after Christmas and three days before New Year’s Eve, my birthday for years felt like an inconvenience the more I thought about it.

Then I realized that it wasn’t my birthday itself that was the issue, but rather the celebrations. One year I treated my family to dinner at a Japanese restaurant, and brought them back to a hotel suite I booked for myself that week for cupcakes, ice cream cups, and Sparkling Ice drinks. The one banner I put up said "Please leave by 9," and everyone did. That was a perfect birthday celebration. After living with my family for as long as I have, this became my standard to myself for my birthdays: don’t let my family lift a finger to prep, spend a dime of their money on me, or have to clean anything up themselves.

I attempted to recreate that celebration the following year: another restaurant, another hotel, and more single-serving desserts. But that year, two out of my family were too sick to go anywhere. The restaurant I chose that year forgot that I called the day before about bringing a large group in, and service was slow because they were so busy. Two more of my family had to go home before the cake and ice cream, but my celebration that year still basically went to plan. The year after that, I decided that taking everyone to Red Robin and calling it a night still met that standard of saving my family every effort that I could.

I’ve told people that I "felt a switch flip" during the holiday season coming from 2025 into 2026. Behind closed doors I would have called "assuming people assuming the worst of me" my default setting, with the worst of it happening from last September to December. One day I had a moment of reflection that I was still proud of myself for showing up for others the way that I did despite how dark, loud, or violent my inner world got. Just before Christmas, I felt that I was on the brink of either a breakdown or a breakthrough. Then, I turned 37.

In the months leading up to December 28, 2025, I conceded that I didn’t need a birthday party. Only after talking to a handful of people about it did I accept that (1) birthdays are one day a year, and (2) it’s my celebration and I can choose how to celebrate! Days before my birthday (short notice on my part, as usual), I decided with my family to have a gathering at our house where I provided dinner and dessert. Some guests and their families did have to decline to stay home, because my birthday also coincides with cold and flu season. Because of this, I wanted to give in to my anxiety and rejection sensitivity (thanks ADHD) and cancel the party hours before it was supposed to start—because what was the point if not everyone could be there? Then I talked my anxieties out with a few people and went through with the party anyway. And I’m glad that I did, because the party still turned out wonderfully.

I chose and provided the menu: my signature turkey chili, rice, and biscuits; or Moose’s Tooth pizza and a salad. The cake was two Costco crème brûlée cakes, and the ice cream was Walmart-brand salted caramel ice cream. I also provided white-elephant prizes, and I at least tried to make a more outwardly thankful showing of opening gifts and reading my birthday cards than I did at my last birthday.

Because of everything that my family and I put into it (including me cooking half of my own birthday dinner, which people were surprised by), I am happy that I was able to celebrate in person and in spirit with everyone that I did. This showed me what has since become my interpretation of mindfulness: feeling my feelings as they come through without acting on them, and seeing my own patterns of thinking for what they are; but also remembering how much of it has to do with the present time and place. Most of the time, as it turns out, it isn’t much.

For a while after that, I started using a planner—not to plan ahead like most people would, but rather to document something positive about each day. I kept that up for most of the month of January, which helped each day after that feel worth documenting. Then, something incredible happened: my younger brother got married.

I was privileged to be one of my brother’s groomsmen and a part of such an important day for him and his wife, now my sister-in-law. In a rare turn of events, I stayed off of my phone for most of that weekend. I used to be susceptible to isolating myself and using my phone to escape when my emotions felt too big to see past, as they did that weekend for reasons related and unrelated. Still, I got to be present with our extended family, most of whom traveled from out of town or even out of state to be here. My mind was quiet for a change. For the time of the wedding, the reception, and the native-food feast the following day, I didn’t second-guess myself or how the world in general felt about me. The more I chose to stay grounded and in the moment and around people I loved, the less I could entertain negative thoughts. It almost makes too much sense.

It's never that "there's nothing to watch." I find that there is TOO MUCH to watch.

2: Rejoining the living

I famously don’t watch most movies or shows on my own, at least when they’re first released. One of the first acts of self-love I gave myself in 2026 was locking in on an aggressive personal budget for the year, with balloon payments for all of my credit cards so that all their balances could reach back down to 30% by my next birthday. Knowing that my spending would be limited because of this, I also bit the bullet and signed up for accounts with nine (9) streaming platforms at the top of the year.

The first series I caught up on was Trixie Motel. If I haven’t gushed about Trixie Mattel on record already, she is to me what RuPaul is to her: a drag idol—and one of few celebrities left that I still want to see or meet in person. She is half Ojibwe, and she grew up near Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in a small town sort of like what Dillingham, Alaska was for me. I’m half indigenous myself, and it blows my mind that she is just shy of a year younger than I am. She is an established drag personality, comedian and makeup artist with a prolific YouTube presence, including her own channel as well as a podcast with her fellow performer and drag bestie, Katya Zamolodchikova.

Trixie is also a performing musician, a DJ, and a singer-songwriter. Being a Leo-Virgo cusp, she is also a businesswoman: she owns a cosmetics company, making quality and drag-friendly makeup—and now, a luxury boutique motel with branded merchandise. The most impactful part of Trixie’s story is how she got her name: in childhood, her abusive late stepfather would call her a Trixie whenever she (out of drag, as a literal boy) acted "too feminine." She built an empire out of reclaiming a name that was used against her, and I think that’s cool as hell.

I remember when each season of Trixie Motel was actively airing. At the time of each season I could only wish I had a Discovery Plus account, but one of the best things about adulthood is having both free will and adult money. Last year I treated my inner child to a Vicks facial steamer to help with a sore throat. This year, I got to watch a drag queen remodel a Palm Springs motel and a Hollywood home. Now, I haven’t had a sore throat since last year, and possibilities for my next watch are as overwhelming as my watchlist is never-ending.

YouTube content aside, the only other series I would binge-watch on my own have been Ghost Adventures, and the Golden Girls. Trixie Motel reminded me how much I love makeovers and renovations; the Golden Girls feels like a universal comfort watch, and Ghost Adventures (and the single-digit US seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race and Drag Race: All Stars) is the latest extent of "reality" TV that I’ve actively followed. Being such a romantic person myself, I don’t know (but I also do know) how it took me this long to find a romance or romantic series that I liked.

There was one book-to-TV adaptation that stood out to me from what I’ve seen from other people talking about it online ("that gay hockey show,"aka Heated Rivalry). I was skeptical at first because of how often people mentioned the sex scenes, because for a while I figured there were other places online where I could find content like that for free. Then people started talking about episode 5, where it now feels like the most in season 1 happens in a 50-minute span—and if there was sex, it happened off-camera between scenes.

I’ve been obsessed with Heated Rivalry since watching the first season through for the first time this past mid-January. The source book series is also the first set of books that I’ve bought in years, including pre-ordering the final book. Engaging with the fandoms online continues to enrich my appreciation of the show (I’ll start reading the books eventually), and that appreciation helped carry me through my inner turmoils the weekend of my brother’s wedding. Season one premiered last November 28, and the final episode aired on December 26. The source book series, Rachel Reid’s hockey-romance Game Changers, began with the first book being published in 2018. All of this is to say that I think both the show and the books have been out for long enough that I don’t have to worry about spoiling anything.

2007-me will always be special to me. I wouldn't be who I am today without him.

3: To see and feel seen

I can’t imagine that the premise of this series is anything new to audiences of the romance genre. Romantic literature especially also has a storied reputation for popularity with a specific demographic. This feels like a major reason why it doesn’t seem to be taken as universally seriously as other genres, previously including by me. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is often credited for being the first published example of science fiction, now one of the most popular genres of media, and she started writing it at the age of 18. It would be a mistake to write women off (and "feminine interests" including romance... and science fiction), especially more than society already has and still does.

While Heated Rivalry wasn’t my first experience with it, I still consider myself new to queer media, especially to seeing it in the mainstream. Reviews of the show or books might mention the term representation, which I would agree with over and over. While still necessary for younger audiences, I feel like there is a predominance of coming-of-age stories in media where queer or questioning teenage characters’ experiences culminate along the lines of coming out at a senior prom or graduation. By contrast, this is where I first see myself in two of the lead characters of Heated Rivalry: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov's story starts when they are both 17, but it then unfolds (two and a half years pass in the first episode alone) and follows them as adults.

Shane Hollander’s character is Asian-Canadian, specifically half Japanese on his mother’s side. In the first episode, Shane’s mother describes a brand-deal sponsorship as an opportunity for kids to see themselves somewhere they usually don’t, likely implied to mean as Asian-Canadian athletes in a predominantly white sport. While my lived experience as an indigenous-American person is different from that of an Asian-Canadian person, I feel that there is still something to be said about creating our own visibility and representation, and recognizing our relationships with assimilation into cultures and societies where we are part of the minority.

Rachel Reid also wrote Shane’s character as an autistic person. This feels especially important to note during a time like now where autism is dismissed or diminished to stereotypes and misinformation, and treated as something to be cured rather than understood and accommodated. In his portrayal of Shane, Hudson Williams drew from his experience living with his father, who is on the autism spectrum. Hudson also mentioned on a podcast that he (Hudson) is also neurodivergent (ADHD) but unmedicated. I haven’t been formally diagnosed with ASD, but I see enough overlap between ASD and ADHD for me to also see myself in Shane's character: social blind spots aside, he and I favor routine and regiment, and we each have our “safe” foods and drinks.

If nothing else, I feel seen and validated as a queer person as I see myself in queer characters in media. Learning about parts of myself as early as middle school while growing up in a small rural town in Alaska, I felt pressured to not only hide who I was, but also to change how I presented myself and to limit what I read, watched or listened to, and limit the people that I kept in my life. If openly gay and trans people back home weren’t ostracized, I feel like I’ve seen people treat them (respectively) like court-jesters and monsters, especially before the US’ pro same-sex marriage ruling of 2015. I am glad for the sense of “why does that matter now” that comes with adulthood after leaving middle and high school, but the neurodivergent tree remembers what the neurotypical axe forgets.

I didn’t miss out on dating in high school, at least in the heteronormative sense. In fact, my high-school sweetheart and only ex-girlfriend remains the only exclusive (or at least "official") romantic relationship I’ve had yet. As an adult that came out to my family in 2017 and then twice publicly in 2021, I still have worlds of exploration and learning left to do. In the show, there are hints of coming-out storylines for each lead character; but the first season of this show feels more about these characters at least recognizing their sexualities in adulthood while navigating their athletic careers, their relationship with each other, and their other relationships. Thankfully for them, their other relationships prove to be as supportive as anyone can hope for. I consider myself just as lucky for having a loving support network, because that is not the case for all queer people.

It’s with the love and encouragement of the supporting characters that the lead characters are eventually able to be honest with themselves and vulnerable with each other. Queer audiences seeing queer people live and thrive can give them and others affirmation that not only are they valid in their identity, but also right and allowed to be. For these characters, "one act of openness begets another," in the words of the show’s creator, Jacob Tierney. In private together, these characters almost revert to younger versions of themselves, experiencing a playful happiness in being together I wish they (and I) could have experienced sooner in life. Their success (because, spoiler alert: they do end up together) in queer adult romance also paints a picture of a future that I want for myself. What hits me the hardest from watching and re-watching this show are the happiness and genuine reciprocated desire that it showcases, and the hope that it creates.

"the takeaway from heated rivalry's success should be more queer stories, loyalty to source material, openness to international projects and an unapologetic respect for the romance genre. we don't just want more hockey and sex" - x user linds (@kitsbane) (source)

4: Is this a review?

On a long layover in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport in 2024, I perused one of their shops and came across a book display of best-sellers at the time. The only book that stood out to me was The Pairing by Casey McQuiston, who also wrote Red, White & Royal Blue, published in 2019. The Pairing told a story about two opposite-sex bisexual characters that were romantically involved but fell out of touch after a bad break-up. They then found themselves on the same guided culinary tour of Europe, which somehow became a competition with each other over who could hook up with more people during the tour—to prove to each other that one was "over" the other, before (more spoilers) ultimately coming back together.

I didn’t make it far into The Pairing before I made it back home and lost interest. One redeeming factor I find is that the book also features a storyline involving gender exploration, creating visibility for non-binary people like me. And while it also creates visibility for bisexual people, I still feel that what I’ve read of this story feeds into negative stereotypes that queer people (especially bisexual people) are hypersexual and promiscuous. Not all of us are, but it’s also nobody’s business whether we are or not. I don’t pose or lead with invasive questions about others’ sex lives the way non-queer people do with queer people because that has nothing to do with me.

To substitute re-watching Heated Rivalry again once, I used one of my several streaming platforms to watch the 2023 film adaptation of Red, White & Royal Blue. Both RWRB and Heated Rivalry tell stories of longing in an unexpected love that feels forbidden, and stories that offer glimpses of futures together before finally starting their respective happily-ever-afters. With the lead characters from each show, there is also a sense of an internal conflict between staying true to meeting obligations (like their hockey careers, and staying in their fans and families’ good graces; or a US-presidential re-election campaign, and England’s Royal Family) and following their hearts.

RWRB and Heated Rivalry also feature established bisexual leading characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, as portrayed by Taylor Zakhar-Perez; and Ilya Rozanov, as portrayed by Connor Storrie, respectively—creating the visibility that I wish what I remember of The Pairing did. In addition to stereotypes of hypersexuality and promiscuity, bisexual people’s identity is often erased or reduced to “being indecisive,” or claiming one sexuality while “secretly really” being another. A bisexual person dating someone of the opposite sex or different gender isn’t “faking it,” and a bisexual person dating someone of the same sex or similar gender isn’t “just gay.” People generally have a better idea of who and what they are than others do. Trying to decide and assert what is true for other people is weird behavior and a waste of time.

The same day that Heated Rivalry premiered its first two episodes, Pillion was released in the UK, a romance-drama centered around a same-sex BDSM relationship. I know what the acronym of BDSM stands for, but that is the extent of my knowledge (I swear!). Pillion only started showing in some US theaters this past February 6 and expanded to more on February 20. Because everyone uses the same internet, people everywhere started talking about Pillion after its UK release, briefly eclipsing Heated Rivalry in popularity. I still have yet to see Pillion, but I know it is significant for being a queer (love?) story. From what I’ve read about it, I just don’t think it ends happily, at least not as happily as Heated Rivalry’s first season does.

While I celebrate Heated Rivalry as a successful queer adult romance, I am ambivalent on labeling it as queer romance. François Arnaud (Scott Hunter in the show, and the show’s only openly bisexual cast member to my knowledge) also spoke on a podcast, alluding to the unnecessary divide between media and queer media; and I would agree that media is media, and romance is romance. Not everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community claims the label of queer for themselves, either—but I do. I understand that it is a hard-earned privilege that we have seats at our own table, but I would also like to see us at more tables with everyone else.

The care with which this show's story is told, its faithfulness to the source material, the caliber of acting talent featured (including a supporting-role feature from Harrison Browne, the NHL’s first openly transgender athlete), and the magnitude of the show’s impact on such a small budget—all transcend expectation and set new standards, but the sex scenes undoubtedly contributed to most of the show’s word-of-mouth viral success. As a queer person, I agree that the sex that queer people have is (the?) one thing that sets us apart from our non-queer peers. But one analysis of the show also showed that out of six episodes that run upwards of 50 minutes each, the sex scenes account for just under 7 minutes total across the first season. The sex scenes in this show were also no more graphic than any sex scene between opposite-sex characters that would’ve been shown in any other contemporary adult TV series. 

During an interview, Jacob Tierney highlighted the queer joy behind the show: for once, the lead characters’ happiness isn’t punctuated with major-character death, grave illness, addiction, infidelity, or traumatic separation. These so far have felt like the other shoe that queer audiences have come to expect to drop in stories like this, like a punishment for who the characters are and the sex they have. Queer audiences can also be accustomed to searching for subtext and nuance so that they might see themselves in non-queer stories, so for this series to be so overtly queer is like lighting a fireplace where we’ve only collected tea-light candles before. Conversely, reviews also mention that while this show doesn’t shy away from sex, the sex that the characters have in this show isn’t as extreme as people might picture queer sex to be for everyone.

I’d ultimately like to commend this show on its portrayals of happiness during sex. Scenes between opposite-sex characters in other productions to me have always felt serious by comparison—and boring and irrelevant to me, personally. And the sex that happens on the show isn’t gratuitous but rather judicious, and choreographed with the help of an intimacy coordinator. The kinds of sex that happen also evolve along with the characters’ relationships as their stories progress, deeming these scenes essential to the plot. This can probably be the same argument to make about sex scenes in any other series, which I think at least partially shows how similar queer people’s lives are to those of our non-queer peers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6fcK_fRYaI

"The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature. [...] Every time you victimized someone, you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you." One of my favorite short stories in existence.

5: The universe experiences itself

The Big Bang theory gives us one explanation for how everything came to be: everything in the universe was once contained in a single point before exploding everything into place. Atomic fusion at the cores of stars in space converts hydrogen to helium, producing light and energy. Other elements are also formed over time through atomic fusion like this, including iron and other elemental metals. These other elements and other cosmic materials come together to form planets, from which life might spring forth. This is a gross oversimplification and a shaky paraphrasing of YouTube videos that I’ve watched within the past year about outer space, but by this logic I can see how one would agree that we are made of stardust.

Another theory tells us that Theia, a Mars-sized proto-planet, shared a solar orbit path with Earth about 4.5 billion years ago but revolved in the opposite direction. In this theory, the collision of Theia with Earth produced debris that formed Luna, our moon (or Selene, daughter of Theia in Greek mythology). From my recollection of this theory, the formation of Luna stabilized Earth’s rotational axis, affecting changes making life on Earth possible. The theory of evolution then tells us that microscopic life on Earth took shape underwater before evolving to be able to walk on land and breathe air. Hundreds of millions of years of evolution later, an author from Nova Scotia wrote a series of hockey-romance books that a gay Quebecois auteur optioned and adapted into a phenomenon of a TV series.

Before anything else, this show wouldn’t exist without Rachel Reid's writing. Between the cast’s performance and the crew’s execution (including Reid as consulting producer), I can’t imagine this story being in better hands. Some financiers and distributors, at least some based in the US, would not have picked up the show without making significant changes to the story. It was also originally scheduled for release in February 2026 instead of November 2025. The book series’ fanbase online then influenced content executives at HBO Max to pick up the show just weeks prior to its updated, earlier release date. To think that this show almost didn’t happen in the US or almost became something else—I don’t even want to think of a world without having seen and gotten to experience it. 

Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie were already actors before being cast, each having backgrounds in performing arts schools and having written and directed short films themselves. Their chemistry reading for the show, a pairing test between two actors in addition to their individual auditions, took place via videoconference to immediate success. They became such fast friends that they spent time together in Hudson's hometown of Vancouver, British Columbia before filming began and got matching tattoos. Their friendship and chemistry off-camera translates to their chemistry on screen, further adding to the show’s success in combination with their phenomenal acting skills.

Outside of the show, I can best describe the trajectories of the cast as stellar. From what I can remember reading: the show’s release date moved to the holiday season when people are usually looking for things to watch. Audiences got to witness this instance of Hudson and Connor’s acting talent before they were invited to present an award at the Golden Globes. They made their red-carpet debuts before serving as torchbearers for the Winter Olympics in Milano Cortina, Italy. Hudson got to walk for DSquared2 during Milan Fashion Week, and Connor got to attend the Fall 2026 Saint Laurent presentation in Paris along with François Arnaud and Robbie GK (Kip Grady in the show). Ksenia Daniela Kharlamova (Svetlana Vetrova in the show, whose character was beautifully reworked to play a more substantial role than in the books) got to walk for Christian Cowan at New York Fashion Week. The graciousness with which these actors were given and accepted these opportunities is as enamoring as how they rose to meet and do them justice.

Connor then hosted Saturday Night Live on February 28, a dream come true for an artist who wanted to be an actor since childhood. His was one of the highest rated episodes, probably ever—and rightfully so, especially considering his exceptional performance in the episode and the recency of the release and success of Heated Rivalry. His performance closed with a sketch based on an original character he created during his time in improv and clowning. Hudson making a cameo in another sketch resulted in the longest I’ve heard the audience scream and cheer for any guest star, and I don’t think I’ve seen any SNL host as moved or as grateful as Connor was during farewells and end credits.

In addition to projects you can find on YouTube, Connor was also cast in April X, a "near-future dystopia" missing-person thriller due for release this year. He was then featured in a spread and interview for Vogue Adria that sold out its issue in less than a day. In this article, he teased Transaction Planet, a self-funded passion project of his also due for release soon that he wrote, produced, directed, and starred in. He was (likely officially, by now; previously rumored to be) also cast in Peaked, an upcoming A24 film also featuring Laura Dern and writer-directors Molly Gordon and Allie Levitan.

Hudson celebrated his birthday this year at Gold House’s inaugural Lunar New Year celebration at New York’s Chinese Tuxedo theatre alongside his mother, and fellow Asian actors, artists, and filmmakers. In addition to (more) projects you can still find on YouTube, he also produced and starred in Sheepskin, a short film directed by Ethan Wingrove screened at the 2026 National Film Festival for Talented Youth in Seattle, Washington. He has also been cast in Yaga, a murder-mystery drama series on Crave, a Canadian streaming service (where Heated Rivalry was initially set to release), notably alongside Carrie-Anne Moss of The Matrix fame. Most recently, Hudson was named a Friend of the House of Balenciaga, and was invited to attend the 2026 Academy Awards—a high honor for any actor and filmmaker, and extraordinary for a Canadian actor and filmmaker like Hudson, and so deserved.

I will disclaim that there are other, more avid fans and organizations that have more and better knowledge of what else is in store for the cast and crew of this show. For anyone to miss or misinterpret a detail of anything, from a part of an artist’s body of work to what they post on social media, audiences without context are quick to interpret as deliberate and antagonistic. I do appreciate that the cast’s rise to prominence coincided with an age of the internet where fans (and media personnel, and even the cast themselves) have started recognizing this and seem to encourage each other to be more mindful of how they interact with celebrities—and seem willing to hold people accountable when needed.

Each member of this show’s cast has their own projects and avenues for fans to support them. François Arnaud and Robbie GK’s characters in the show, taken from the first of the book series’ Game Changers, are so essential to the story of Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie’s characters that they get their own episode in episode 3. Hudson and Connor’s characters, taken from the series’ second and sixth books, are the primary focus of the show’s first season. Cast and project announcements are probably a dime a dozen, and acting is what actors do; but their acting talent, shining personalities, emotional intelligence, work ethic, knowledge of cinema and cultural references, and passion and reverence for acting and filmmaking—all make Hudson and Connor celebrities that make fans out of other celebrities. I cannot praise them or the rest of the show’s cast and crew enough. I can’t wait to see what else they do next, and may season 2 of Heated Rivalry be upon us before we know it.

L-R: Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie, likely prior to filming Heated Rivalry; Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams on SNL February 2026; and Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams at the Vanity Fair Oscars Afterparty in March 2026

6: Epilogue (the point)

When I graduated from high school in 2007, I intended to attend the University of Alaska Fairbanks to major in business administration. After my first semester, I changed my major to music performance with hopes to become a film composer/music director, only to complete two more years of college. After leaving college, I was ready to throw myself into the desk jobs I had at my hometown’s hospital and local university branch. My idea of successful adulthood at the time wasn’t much more than providing for myself in a space of my own, despite the exorbitant cost of living in a town off of major highway systems. 

I then began my career in my current field of work after my family and I moved to Anchorage in 2013, where the cost of living is finally livable, and a space of my own is easier to attain. Before, I had accepted each turn in my life as a direct path to some sort of final form. Come to find out, this “final form” either doesn’t exist, or it follows and evolves with me as I continue moving through life. So much has happened for the cast of Heated Rivalry, and it's still only been months since the release of its first season. Openness to change and opportunity makes the unknowable possible. Intention, confidence, and passion makes the unknowable happen. So much is left to chance or fate until it isn’t.

One of my favorite pastimes is listening to music and marveling at how it came to be, especially today. Humans created music and engineered musical instruments. They created notation with which to document and organize music. Centuries of composition and performance later, composers are still writing music that people are still learning to play.

Music is a language that I think everyone can understand. The advent of recording technology made musical performances available at any time, and the advent of the internet made them accessible from virtually anywhere. The visual arts are how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time. Film and TV are a combination of artistic media that can decorate both; and can also be used to tell stories (including romance) where audiences can find and see themselves, if not just escape from reality for a brief while. 

We can now access film and TV on a whim, and it’s easier now more than ever to find community with people that enjoy the same things. From these communities come fan art, fan fiction, and other works based on what created the community in the first place; and these fan-made creations can inspire even further creation and expand these communities even more. This enjoyment can inspire people to find purpose in life, often through creating things themselves. The top contenders for the meaning of life come down to helping others, just enjoying it, or creating your own meaning. Between film, TV, music, the written word—between all art, all that enjoy it, and this cycle of creation and community—it might be a combination of all three.

Season 1 of Heated Rivalry is now available to stream on HBO Max.