And Your Bird Can Sing

Have you ever gotten two books out of the library at the same time and read them back to back and noticed odd little similarities between them? I'm talking random stuff, like allusions to the same book or characters from the same home town. And if you read them even a month or two apart, you probably wouldn't make the connection; it's only because they're already connected in your mind that the similarities have any meaning. This happens to me a lot.

Anyway...Friday night was the annual piano recital. I've come to dread it--this was my eighth formal recital, not counting the little ones our teachers used to stage at their house until they remodeled and probably didn't want a bunch of little kids tracking in mud anymore--because it's an unnecessary-seeming hassle, plus I always end up feeling embarrassed, not proud or accomplished or anything. I can't help feeling hopelessly inferior to students my age and younger who play flawlessly, while I inevitably screw up.

Laura Wilson takes lessons from my teacher, so she's always at the recitals, meaning that at least I can sit and exchange eye-rolls with her. This year, as we settled into the pew (the event is held at a church), she asked me if I was going to Ross' party after the recital. I didn't know about any party of Ross', but I wasn't offended; his parties tend to be informal and haphazard, friends inviting friends. When the recital was finally completed, my mom drove us to Ross' house. It was awkward, unlike other parties of his that I've attended, for two main reasons: 1) I was wearing a skirt, and 2) Eric Mosher and Kelly Donovan were all over each other for most of the evening.

This isn't the first time that I've dealt with classmates dating (I say "dealt with" because it's a weird experience to see someone you've known for years suddenly being all gooey with another person), but it was the most surreal. I mean, Eric Mosher! I won't deny that he's quite good-looking and has charmed most of the female Academy juniors-going-on-seniors for some time, but at heart he's always been a largely incoherent slacker. Of course, stranger things have happened. Last year I had to endure a few AP Bio periods listening to Lindsey Rockwell complain about her relationship with Joe. Joe frickin' "Dubious Personal Hygiene" "Constantly Looks Stoned" "Probably Masturbates to Grand Theft Auto" Szeluga!

Anyway, things improved at the party when someone put on Saved! I have something of a history with that movie; last year I rented it and made the mistake of popping it into the DVD player when my parents were in the room. My mom made us turn it off after less than ten minutes, leading to a huge fight. Okay, so that ten minutes included homosexuality, sex, beer, and profanity...but it was funny, and had what I thought was a decent message. Now that I finally got to see it (Emily Anderson's been asking me all year whether I've seen it), I wasn't disappointed. What I got out of it was an idea that I'd already begun thinking of as my interpretation of Christianity: true Christianity is non-violent, accepting of everyone, forgiving, and impatient with discussion over essentially minor rules (like keeping the Sabbath day holy; Jesus got fed up with people when they criticized Him for healing the sick on the Sabbath, like he hadn't just performed miracles). In other words, true to the spirit of what Christ taught, not bogged down in divisive squabbles. Some Christians make me think of the "scribes and Pharisees" of the Bible.

This has been a crazy blog, swinging from pensive to profane to preachy. I'd better sign off before I veer off in another direction.