I wonder if my (not so) secret want to be famous is just an expression of latent primary narcissism. In fact, the feeling that I need to suppress the urge to have the world revolve around me plays right into Freudian theory. Too bad I don�t really believe in Freud.

Something about the chord progressions in Wicked brings tears to my eyes on a regular basis. Also, while bus driving, it is getting harder and harder not to sing along.

I am of the opinion that almost everyone needs a blog, or livejournal, or diary, or medium where they get to pretend that everyone in the world is or could be reading the song lyrics or inane musings they are certain hold great importance.

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