No where in the past three decades of my intellectual systematic deconstruction of the concepts that are supposed to bind our individualized micro to society’s macro did it occur to me that we are all what we make of ourselves. I had viewed everything around me as steeped in history-made culture that I was apart from. Even though I had been adopted while I was still a baby, I felt like an exiled foreigner. It appeared to me that I had no home and no compatriots. Not seeing any other choice, I did my best to assimilate.