Okay, out with it. I have a confession to make: I'm bi. My family and my close friends have suspected this in recent years but I never felt comfortable talking about it. This intersession I had an intensely personal experience that confirmed my own hesitations. It has taken courage for me to discard many of those values which I once held as good and true, and today I am ready to embrace a new identity, a new me. I'm not ashamed to say it-I'm bicoastal. Here's how it all happened.

On February 26, American Eagle Flight 3226 spirited me away from Harvard. Wing-mounted prop engines labored hard and the SAAB 340B cabin vibrated hypnotically. I dosed off thinking-next stop, Santa Barbara, California. Soon, the hydraulic whirring of the landing gear woke me up and down we sailed, moving closer to the breaking waves and snaking coastline.

My uncle Phil greeted me with an enthusiastic handshake. No need to wait for baggage claim, I told him, I've got all I need right here on my back. I wedged my pack into the miniature trunk of his MR-2, and we began to roll. "Seventy-five cents" announced the lot attendant at the exit gate. Uncle Phil, handing over a five spot, smiled and said, "I think I can handle the stress." Of course he could, it's California.

A few days later, I toured the University of California, Santa Barbara, where palm trees shaded benches and beach sand dusted the campus network of bike paths. I saw Roller Girl en route to class. UCSB had nothing to do with my cold, stuffy college. No comparison possible.

I found myself feeling calm, happy and content living my alternative lifestyle. High-blood-pressure Harvard felt very far away. I had a new mantra that I repeated to myself on the beach and when I saw a giant rainbow and when we drove through the mountains: location, location, location.

Though I'm back at school, I'm a changed man. I can feel California shining inside me and it's something I'm proud of. Someday, I'll go back. Until then, I'm bicoastal.