Sometimes, when I'm really wrapped up in studying and stuff, I get hit in the head with this incredibly intense melencholy. Out of nowhere, I suddenly get all sad about being so boring, so unsatified with my un-rock-star-ness.

I get all nostalgic for nights spent up all night talking music and philosophy, ending up at a crepe shop for breakfast, our makeup all smeared, exhausted and intelectually sated. Or working the door at crazy shows. Or rolling at parties, being all talkative and one with the universe.

I start getting this thought like I wish I had some musical talent, so then I could be in a band, then I'd *really* be a rock star. But I know tons of people in bands, and I know the whole rock star thing, doesn't really happen. And even when people give it a go, it's not really all that much fun.

Well, then maybe I need a glamorous, exciting, interesting hobby. Then I smack myself upside the head. I have the single most beutiful belly dance dress ever made hanging in my closet as we speak, and I'll be dancing in it in a week and a half in front of a giant theater full of people. I *do* have a glamorous hobby.

I guess I'm mostly just lamenting getting too old for those up-all-night talking music, art, and the nature of the universe things.