Is it so tough to accept where we come from?

One of those many nites which is not so rare but then doesnt happen too often. If this sentence is too twisted then thats how the subject I'm goin to deal with, is going to be. Again one of those young nites. My day has just started without the sun. Well who cares as it is winter anyways in Chicago. The day is so shy of being born that it hides behind a dark curtain. Temperature howling around 6C.

Just one of those days when I felt I should step back, get connected to my roots. By roots I mean my birth where I belong. When we think, we reach out to our self. But then that is communication too. So how do we think, our thoughts has a language too? We are just so obviously negligent of this fact. You dont want to think of what you think. Thats too deep.

I got lost tonite, well nothing new about it. The lost flame brightened with few beers but believe me that has nothing to do with the flame itself. It was because I got connected to my self, my roots. Growing up in a demanding environment where not knowing the number 1 hit in MTV count down is a sin, you start whats the fad of the day rather than what you exactly want.

Between ordinary and extra-ordinary you always choose the latter, because of the definition and not too many timed because of the content. Every line of these songs built on classical tunes gives me a deep massage stimulating and rich. I avoided them infact remember even thinking that listening to these songs was unsophisticated.

Now I have the most sophisticated things around. What more can one ask for than living the American dream. But then I'm more curious to get in touch with my roots. Know them, smell them, realise them and more so love them. I have travelled far thousands of miles in search of what I dreamnt. Now that I'm living the dream, I'm dreaming of the place I missed. I cant bridge this distance though. Neither can I measure it. Like the decuman, you are bound to be sunk.