At 2241 Pacific yesterday I turned twenty-one years of age. I did nothing particularly 21-ish, although when the waiter at Max's asked if he could get me a cocktail to start with I did stop and think about it for just over half a second.
The day was not precisely replete with festivities, but it was an agreeable day all the same. I began the day at midnight, when Shanah had the brilliant idea of giving me a birthday dance in Otero lounge. Neani was there, along with a fellow Berkeley-ite from For Christ's Sake, which is Testimony's counterpart group at Cal. For this reason my birthday dance consisted of swing (courtesy of Archimedes), which is of course not my favorite dance but the one that included the largest number of people. I am afraid that my ability to follow swing is lacking, although I hope to have largely remedied that problem by this time next year. I feel certain that Neani's follow was not as good as most of my Stanford partners' have been, despite the fact that her knowledge of swing is in some ways far greater. I attribute this to the influence of the Dance Master on the Stanford campus and am grateful for it.
So I began my birthday surrounded by beautiful girls, all of whom were pleasantly attractive in their own special way. I woke up in plenty of time to go to church at The River and was again pleasantly surprised to find myself in especially attractive female company, although I am sure that their attractiveness was not in celebration of my birthday. The "happy birthday Eric!" that made me jump halfway out of my skin probably was, though, and although it was a small thing it made me smile. Also fun was the fact that church was on the San Jose State campus for the first time, and the service was rather good. The River is of course lacking in certain key areas of what I think a good church should be, but it is a decent place all the same ... and certainly the place that I belong right now. And after all, all churches are lacking in certain key areas of what a good church should be.
Upon returning to campus I commenced the dismembering of my music midterm, which was not a task I enjoyed but not a task that I despised or made me feel shriveled and worthless, either. And that's an improvement. After that my Sweatshirt Girl took me out to dinner at Max's and then to Lane by way of Blockbuster to watch The Music Man. This made me smile, and it seemed to me that the sky on our way to Ginger (her car) was a pleasant mix of the ebon blackness of the Los Angeles night sky and the stars of the Stanford night sky. The symbolism in that struck me as God's way of saying "happy birthday."
The astute among you will have noticed by this point that pretty girls featured large in my birthday. Andrea and Lindsey (although I now prefer Nikki) did not make an appearance, which was probably all for the good as I enjoyed being me yesterday. In two weeks' time I will engage in guy-heavier festivities, namely Star Wars II, Phoenix Earth, and Infernal Gaslamp. All in all, a reasonable balance. Except for the lack of family. I am afraid that I will be spending precious little time in the cove this time around ... but I suppose that couldn't be helped.
The show went well. In point of fact, I thought it was fantastic. I have decided that our pre-show routine needs work, though. I actually resorted to doing some of the stuff that the Director had us do before shows ... and darned if it didn't work in calming my nerves and getting me ready to go up there and pour myself out to the audience. That's pretty much all I'm going to say about that, but you should know that the show went very well indeed.