Facing the greatest fear of wannabe struggling writer.... Looking at the blank computer screen, with nothing to do with my hands.... So ok my mind is blank, where i could type and type (pretty much rubbish) here I am with nothing...not even RUBBISH... I remember my father always told me that i love to create crisis, now i think may be he was right (pretty much like all the other things in the world). But"creating Crisis" always gave me something to think about. Something to rebel against. Somethng to fight for and least of all Something to LIVE for.. Now i know i wil never go back from where i am, but i still wish for that strange fire in my belly (ahhm not gastro...) for small things with bigger values... For silly crushes that would never concretise and become the song in my heart and make music more alive. For sky high ambitions, movies that seemed to inspire..From now on nothing will ever be big enough and life ahead a blank monotony of making money to gear a demanding career forward and one month of working i am already sick of it because i feel sold out.. I work for the same guys against whom i participated in rallies...

So only one thing lives on..Its hope..Which is found in deepest darkest places and yeah to be practical, ol' friends on orkut and gmail, (new ones too) and mobile sms, and hope that life would take a new turn and will not just end up all WORK..