What else can I add to tonight? There is absolutely nothing I could say to sum today up. Nothing.

635. That is how many people we had tonight. It's the second-largest crowd ever, in the history of Bowie High School Theatre. The only thing bigger was the gala opening, and that had stars and celebrities. We had an amazing team of hardworking cast, crew and production members. I don't think even I have truly grasped what we did tonight. I have never, in my entire life, seen such an amazing sight. To see this success, and know that you did it-- that you played a small part in it being there... well, there's nothing better.

What else? Oh yeah. I have a beautiful girlfriend, and she's mine. I have a wonderful cast, who just loves to have fun. And I'm just basking in the feeling that this evening brought. It's beyond words.

A lot of people were surprised when I chose not to write anything regarding Aladdin before this evening. As many people mentioned, "Ben, you write about everything"... and frankly, they're right. I do. Why wouldn't I write about something that has consumed my life for the past three months? Well, there's a pretty simple explanation.

See, until the curtain went down tonight, I didn't know what to expect. I mean, yes, Joe and I had talked about before, and he mentioned how incredible of a feeling it was... but I didn't know what to expect. I knew I would be emotional; I mean, come on-- this is the biggest thing I've ever taken on in my entire life. But let me explain something to everyone who has never had this experience (and only one other person who reads this has). When the curtain dropped tonight at the end of the show, the sensation that I got was something I wasn't expecting. Yes, I was emotional, and yes, I shed a tear or two. I have an emotional connection to this show, without a doubt. But more then that, I just felt this incredible feeling of satisfaction. That could have been it tonight guys-- that could have been the only show. The feeling I got at the end of the night was that incredible. Seeing each cast member accomplishing something so incredibly special, and seeing people succeed is the best reward I could have ever asked for.

As the show started tonight, I said a quick prayer to myself. It wasn't really directed at the cast, but more at myself. I mostly prayed that I would be able to get through the show without driving myself crazy or interfering at least once. I didn't manage either one. But I saw enough to know that I was blessed with the best cast and crew that any director has ever been given-- in the history of music theatre. There was so much that this cast could have gotten down about. Martin and I had numerous setbacks from day one, and we had to battle conflicts and difficulties from the very outset. They had to endure seemingly endless rehearsals, poor scheduling, lots of last minute changes, and random illnesses. Yet, they always came to practice with a spirit ready to work. It's funny, I joke to people that I have the first cast in the history of theatre where everyone gets along-- but it's true. I mean, obviously not every single person loves everyone else, but there is a general spirit of cooperation among every single cast member. We're all different, and goodness knows I'm an odd bird myself-- but somehow it all works.

What made the entire night special was watching the crowd. See, nothing in the show is funny to me anymore. I've been hearing the jokes since September. I was the first one to read through the show, and I was the first one to see the materials. Yet, I found myself laughing along with the crowd throughout the entire evening. Jokes that I had seen a thousand times (or even blocked myself) became something completely different. They took on a life of their own.

So, I can offer you no other piece of advice aside from this: go see the show. Give it a try. It represents endless hours of work and determination, and I'm incredibly proud of my cast. They deserve it.

(By the way, I had an incredibly convicting experience in the oddest of locations today. It's funny how God works).

A reflection on the year that was 2006.

I branched out, and auditioned for a show.
I was immediately hooked.

I tried to build Model UN off of Harvard.
Instead, it almost died.

Mock Trial was on a tear; we were unbeatable, unstoppable and spectacular.
Until we ran into that one judge, and everything fell out from under us.

I went to San Francisco and had the time of my life;
and re-did my top 8 accordingly (as is the trend).

I recruited for Model UN;
and got to see the organization rise from the ashes into something real again.

I finally played softball for the church,
after 15 years of waiting.
We almost won it all-
but fell two runs short.

Had the privilege of going to Jackie and Natalie's prom.
Wouldn't trade either one, or either girl (hehe).

I had a rough pops concert.
I was a water fountain the last night-- '06 caused so many tears that night.

Oh, and my vocal CD skipped
but it was alright.

I fell for a girl-- she was pretty amazing.
Things worked out, and lasted most of the summer.

It didn't end well, but so goes life.
Things worked out.

I was given co-directorship of the senior production.
I was (and still am) as scared and intimidated as one person can possibly be,
but I've fallen in love with it.
It stresses me out every day,
but you couldn't pull me away from it,
regardless of how hard you tried.

I went to West Virginia with three amazing guys- David, Joey and my dad.
We screwed around the entire week,
played Ultimate Frisbee every night,
I got really sick,
but still played.
We helped orchestrate a water balloon fight of epic proportions,
which I was a participant in,
despite a pounding headache and stomach ache.
I had an amazing week with two guys and a father who made things special.
I didn't realize until it was over how amazing it was.

Summer ended on a low note,
but school came around, as stress-filled as ever.

However, I got closer with some amazing people
and fit right back where I left off two months prior.

I began to orchestrate plans for the Model UN trip,
and began to really see the incredible people I had to work with.

Model UN started out-- rough
but got better.

I had Aladdin auditions,
and realized this thing actually had to happen.
It scared me-- but excited me even more.

Homecoming day was long and exhausting.
I helped with the parade and decorations (day before),
was part of a group that sang the National Anthem for the game,
did the sound for the pre-game,
drove back and forth to my house at least six times,
but got to go with an amazing girl,
and see a lot of amazing people, looking stunningly beautiful.

Aladdin practice started, and slowly began to consume my life.
But I loved it.

Model UN trip almost fell apart
due to bad accounting
and a lack of a vice-president to keep me sane
and in check (she's good at that).

Spring show was chosen.
I understand everyone has gotten behind it,
but you'll never catch me pleased about it.
But... I auditioned anyways,
and got ensemble.
Which was all I wanted.

Pops theme is amazing.
Can't wait.

Got mad at the spring show
(really mad, some can attest to)
but realized I had crossed the line,
stepped back,
and worked it out.

Mock trial started,
and despite all of my procrastination there,
I can't wait to start competing again.

The "video game trio" formed,
with occasional guest appearances.
What more could I ask for?
Video games and beautiful friends.

Oh yeah,
and that battle of the bands thing
was FREAKIN AMAZING!
Seriously,
my friends rocked my world that night,
by showing up in droves and motivating me.
That's one of the biggest highlights of the year.
The new band is wonderful-- simply put.

Harvard came-- and went wonderfully.
Everyone did well and seemed to enjoy themselves.
Catholic University better beware.

I almost went under with all the stress level
but some amazing people bailed me out.

I had a pretty rough Christmas break.
I hate to say this,
but my cell phone got me through it.

Finally,
I had an excellent New Years Eve
and hours afterwards.
Special people, and the ushering in of 2007.

My graduation.
My senior prom.
My show.
My other show (that isn't mine).
My last choir trip.
My college letters.
My last pops.
My last spring concert.
My last Model UN conference.
My last Mock Trial match.
My last high school days.

I did a lot this year.
I made some of the closest friends I've ever had--
and then realized several times how incredibly true that is.
I've grown a lot.
I love to write and talk-- about anything.
I'm grown more loyal
but less available to people who need help.
I completely reconfigured my room
three times.
I've fallen in love with new music
and continue to love the guitar.

But most of all, I'm a Christian going into the new year.
And it gives me strength to face some of the scariest things I've ever thought about.

2007.
Bring it on.

I have nothing to say. Now, granted, of course I have something to say. I have come up with more topics to write about in the past 48 hours then I have for this entire year. I'm sure some of them will eventually morph into ridiculously long blogs and essays, as most of my thoughts often do. But for the moment, I have no desire to do so. I don't feel like being witty, intellectual, clever or deep. I don't feel like diving into some random issue and tearing it apart until there's nothing left.

I just want to be home.

Merry Christmas everyone, and I truly mean that. None of that "happy holidays" or other politically correct phrases. The day is Christmas, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

Vacation brings out a strange apathy in me-- something I can't really explain or put a finger to. I'm in Illinois right now, more specifically the city of Huntley. I wish I was in Bowie for Christmas, and I've been very open about that to people. I've had a lot of conflicting feelings throughout the first two days of vacation, because I'm suposed to be feeling at home right now, but I'm not. I was born in Kane County and have always considered Illinois my home state. I pull for Chicago sports teams, I love Chicago food, and I pretty much have always considered myself from Chicago. But I came to the realization today that-- well, that isn't true anymore.... and I'm now being kicked off. I'll continue this later.

By the way, text or call me people. I'm dying out here.

I'm out of here until the 30th-- heading to Illinois for some time with relatives. I should have internet access fairly often, but I expect constant communication from back home. Just call me randomly once in awhile: it'll make my day, and if I don't pick up, I'll get back to you asap. I'll probably update once I'm settled in, but just in case, have a very Merry Christmas everyone. I'm still debating as to whether I'm going to post my year in review-- I might just post a shorter one. Either way, enjoy your break!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I think I can get used to it.

Why does everyone always look at the past? What is it that
drives us, as human beings, to look in the past through this incredibly
idealistic looking glass that somehow edits out all of the negative aspects and
just shows us the parts that we love? I don’t know exactly why I’ve feeling
this right now, but it’s practically tearing me apart. Three times today, I
have spent time dwelling on a time in the past, and found myself wishing I
could relive it. Yes, I was dwelling on times where I was, for lack of a more
dramatic word, happy. I was enjoying being alive, enjoying the company of
others, enjoying the simplistic beauty that comes with enveloping ones self in
the constant and never-ending spontaneity of the existence we enjoy. And
yes—they were times that I wish had lasted longer—not just these three
particular instances which occurred in my head today, but many others as well.
They were times when I felt safe, times when I felt a connection, times when I
felt completely and totally alive inside, from the core to the exterior that I
so enjoy manipulating. There is no doubt that these are positive memories—if my
analysis dealt in the realm of percentages, they may very well have been close
to 75% percent in the better of the two categories—perhaps even a tad higher
then that. Even without math to put them in perspective, there is no doubt that
these were times of living life to something in the general ballpark of its
potential (it would be preposterous of me to suggest I would ever live life to
its fullest). To summarize, it makes perfect sense to remember those times with
a certain fondness and attachment.

But what eludes even my deepest thoughts, is why we want
those times back. Why do we sit by ourselves and desire to relive those days?

Let me add a little personal perspective, as I so often feel
compelled to do. I write everything down. In case you haven’t noticed, I love
to sit down and write, just in general. I write about how I feel, I write about
how I feel towards people, I write about things that happen, I write about
completely arbitrary topics that randomly make their way into my mind (such as
this one). However, there is one distinct advantage to this: it enables me to
revisit times such as the ones I was describing earlier, and re-create some sort
of shard of how they actually felt. Whether it is through an old conversation I
have saved, a short journal entry I threw together before going to bed, or any
other little reminder I may have penned, they all allow me to, for lack of a
better term, “travel back in time.” Thus, I am able to relive these times to
the best of modern ability, sans of course the video camera or still photograph
camera.

When I deliberately take the time to piece together such
moments, I find myself discovering exactly what I expected to find—that not
everything was so wonderful. These times that I love to idealize and remember
had many a flaw. There were moments of confusion, flashes of anger, hours of
suppressed frustration that no one ever saw. There were fights with family members,
conflict with other people and every other piece of every day life that makes
the daily routine so unpredictable. But if I choose to simply think back on the
event, and rely only on what my brain provides as the truth, then I begin to
wish that these times would return.

So, why is it that we fall into this trap so easily? As I
often state, I’m not here to dive into the true psychological nature of such a
condition—if I had the ability to do that, I can assure you I would be neither
broke nor still in high school. I am evaluating based on what I see and what I
know. It seems to me that the whole thing boils down to a very simple concept.
Often times, we only remember things the way we wished they would have
happened. We overlook the times that don’t provide pleasure, and more
importantly then that, we often remember memorable and special events as much
more memorable then they actually were at the time, for the simple reason that
we love to cherish such moments. We all love our own personal “chick flick,”
whether we’d like to admit it or not. That doesn’t just limit this topic to
relationships of a romantic sense; what I mean by that example is that we love
for all of our memories to be “made-for-tv.” We strive to be able to pull from
the past a moment of such sheer beauty that every disaster that has occurred
since that point becomes a simple side note. We live in the past because we control the events that happen in the
past.  We live in the past because
there is no one there telling us how to remember it—that part is left entirely
to our own minds. And so we love to idealize and adore events that happened a
time ago, especially when we feel highly dissatisfied with the current events.
It is a source of comfort and an ability to escape, and I must say, it
fascinates me.

I have returned from Harvard, and I had an excellent
weekend. I’m going to post somewhat of a summary within the next few days. But
first, I had the opportunity to experience a moment which made me think, while
we were on our way home.

At one point today, Charlotte
referred to HMUN (Harvard Model UN) as a “suspended reality.” I felt like that
was a rather accurate description, but those very words captured something else
perfectly, later in the evening. As we were flying home, Lauren pointed out how
incredibly beautiful things looked from our view. And she was right—the
combination of an evening flight, a clear sky and a flight which occurred predominately
over populated areas resulted in a truly memorizing experience. But—why was it
special this time? I fly three or four times a year, minimum, and it’s not much
different each time. But the first thing I could think of when I looked out the
window was the words Charlotte
had chosen to use earlier—suspended reality. First off, it works literally.
Think of a plane cutting through the air, and suspended is one of the first
words you’ll come up with. You’re in a little world when you travel by
airplane—for the most part, you’re oblivious to what is going on in the world.
You don’t have your cell phone, the internet or the comforts of home—for
however many hours, you are intertwined with the lives of complete strangers.
You entrust your life to two people you’ve never met and may never see, and you
share yourself and your choices with a “room” full of individuals you know
nothing about. I could go a lot further with this, but there’s no need. It just
occurred to me how fascinating that was.