I got detention, but no one made a movie about it.

Today is the 30 year anniversary of “The Breakfast Club!”
(I’ve included the trailer for those of you who have no idea what this movie is about)

Normally, such an anniversary would mean nothing to me, but the oddest thing happened to me about an hour ago, which Im going to tell you about in about five seconds.
Honestly, and my movie loving friends are going to disown me for the following (forgive me Andi and Mel), but I didn’t think The Breakfast Club was a great movie. 
Maybe I feel this way because I watched it when I was 17 because my parents wouldn’t let me watch rated R movies before that, and by that time the novelty of high school had totally worn off.
Maybe it’s because I don’t really watch movies so I can’t tell when one is a classic. (Confession: didn’t really like 16 Candles either. . . )

Or maybe it’s because the characters never struck an emotional chord with me. I couldn’t identify with it, probably because, oddly enough, I wasn’t a walking stereotype.

I remember mostly identifying with Allison Reynolds, “The Basket-Case” (shocking, I know), but while she owned her weirdness, I secretly wanted to be Claire Standish.  Plus, I was never really all about “getting to know people”. If I had been a character in The Breakfast Club, I would have sat in unbroken silence throughout the whole damn movie. 
As you can see, this movie did not, does not, really resonate with me. 
Anyway, today I was walking from the Cafeteria to the Library, when I suddenly craved a coffee. So I cut down through the Student Union, to get to the Cafe. As I passed the Ballroom in the Student Union, I remembered there was a baby grand piano in there and I got the sudden urge to play.
I made a beeline for the door, but as I went to reach for the door handle so did the lanky kid next to me.
Turns out he was also a defunct pianist who had the sudden urge to play.
We chatted for a second about music and he asked me if I sang.

This is where it gets “Breakfast Club”-y.

I said that I do sing.

To which he replied, “Sing for me.”

So I did.

No joke.
I belted out a rendition of Summer Time, from Porgy and Bess, right in the Student Union, to a perfect stranger.

I’m not sure why I decided to sing to him, especially since my own boyfriend has never heard me, but it felt really good to perform and to honestly connect with someone, even if for only a moment, over something universal.

For your amusement and my general embarrassment, here are some videos of my high school vocal group.

 AND if you CLICK HERE you will get to see me as a light up stripper in my HS’s rendition of Gypsy! *hint:  I’m the one with glowing boobs who’s singing*

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