The gloves were mesmerizing. I'm not sure what it was about the white kid gloves Amos wore, but they grabbed you and wouldn't let go. He pulled the little white gloves out of his pocket, put them on, and weaved patterns that stunned in their elegance. Was that a form of miming? It was so cool...the sort of thing that looks simple, but is deceptively impossible to do for us mere mortals untrained in the esoteric arts of theater. The final number with the shimmer curtain was magic. It was only a roadshow of Chicago in Proctors, but it worked. Truth expressed, mission accomplished. That's the dazzling allure of the theater; it's the pursuit of truth. It feels like my life has become divided into two parts. One half is dedicated to my friends, the other half dedicated to my schoolwork, my obligations, and my family. Unfortunately, lately I've been more and more deserting the latter half in favor of the former. I wish I was a more logical person...then again, logic can have its drawbacks. No logical person would ever enter into a silly, temporary yet intimate relationship during high school that is almost inevitably doomed to failure, for example. Yet we do it, and we are the better for it, I think. It's getting to that time of year when you want someone to be close to, but there isn't always somebody there. Everything that we have ever observed is logical except ourselves, really. The universe is governed by two unalterable laws: Nothing can be created nor destroyed, and all systems tend towards disorder. It's thermodynamics, and everything obeys it. Everything except ourselves. The physical world is supremely logical, all events predictable to within a mathematically determinable probability. How did we, supremely illogical beings that we are, come from this universe of logic? Is our sentience proof of a power beyond this plane of existence, proof of God? I'm a hopeless romantic, I guess. The Messiah and other Christmas-type choral events are working out nicely for me; my voice was completely out of practice, but now with all the concerts I'm getting to sing at least a little. Hopefully by the time the spring show rolls around, I'll be back into the swing of things. Seeing Chicago made it that much clearer how mediocre we are at AHS Drama...it's not exactly a fair comparison though. They're pro, we're just kids. I wish I wasn't just a "kid", though. Not in the sense of wanting to be older, but wanting to have that level of expertise. Who wants to be "just" something? It would suck to be "just" something your entire life. Who's judging though? I don't know. We are usually our own harshest judge. Ben, Ashley, and I went to dinner at Ruby Teusday's before the show, and ran into some of our other friends who were also seeing the show. It's always so great to see Shane and Meghan and Marc and the rest of them, I wish I could get to know so many people better than I already do. We always end up getting sucked into our own little groups of friends, and shutting out the rest of the world; it's not really a bad thing, but we end up missing out on other people. That's the way it has to be, I guess. For some reason I'm finding that I write much more interesting things in this space than I did in my written journal. I'll probably just start printing these entries, and saving that in my papers. I don't know if they'll ever be good for anything, but I feel like I need to save my papers. Vain self-preservation, perhaps? It might come in handy someday.