Friday, June 8, 2007


Thanks to J.K.Rowling for that word (or the contortion of the original one).
After the credits have been given, now the time is to tip over the mess on to the warm blood. I really have no clue how I came up with that. But the more I think of it, the more I think that I am indeed marinating thoughts in warm blood.
The post.
When I was in India, I used to always crib about not being offered a choice. A choice of courses. Of not having to attend huge family parties where I know no one. Of going where I want to and being who I want to be with. A choice of being who I want to be professionally. An endless list follows. I think this is what gave rise to the 'American dream'.
CHOICE is what the States is all about. You have a choice of talking to people or not, and you will not be judged for it. You have a choice of classes. A choice of places to live in. A choice of people (trust me, I have seen enough people in NY to last myself a lifetime in a jungle). EVERYTHING. Every supermarket isle has like a hundred different kind of brands for one product. Every program has a thousand different classes you can take. Everywhere. And people like having so much to pick from. Most of them do for sure.
But I personally wonder if so much choice doesn't confuse them. I know I am. Currently amidst a lot of issues that need me to pick. And its not like peace rules after picking. Then I am wondering and worrying if I made the right choice. And the worse part is, I have known by experience that if the choice is wrong, I find that out in the most painful way, that too after it becomes an irreversible decision.
I am now yearning the Indian dream. For when I was dreaming that, I was just cribbing. The American dream is driving me crazy.
That is the longest ever prologue.

If you had to paint me a color
which one would you do?
If you had to write me in a word,
would the choices be few?
Would paint me blue and free?
Would you call me fancy?

Its the rain. Thats what shrinking my thoughts.
I think I'll write a book.

COLOR: Midnight blue (just thought of someone whose favorite color this is)
SONG: Ashqolmez (Turkish pop thing, I am sure its not spelt that way)


lamp said...

Dreams are good,Choices show you r wise- Sometimes-ha silly smile

Anonymous said...

Suddenly before my eyes
Hues of indigo arise
With them how my spirit sighs
Paint the sky with stars

Only night will ever know
Why the heavens never show
All the dreams there are to know
Paint the sky with stars

Plagarised from. I swear if I could write poetry I would. And if I did not cry every time I heard enya paint the sky I would lie.