Wednesday, February 11, 2009


It is so strange how greatly the weather governs my emotions.

It was the most beautiful day today. People were scattered about campus; they emerged from their burrows at last, thrilled with the new warmth that enveloped our renaissance city. On the drive home, I cracked open my windows and sunlight dusted in like some sort of potion. I turned up my radio and smiled. "And if you want to buy me flowers..." he sang, and I was reminded of the carnation a girl had placed on my table just minutes before.

Happiness is a dangerous angel.


HiQKid (Alex) said...

Happiness is a tricky angle.

HiQKid (Alex) said...

Well, in general you're right... except...

Well, I feel that mathematics is the language of the angels. It's the basis of our very existence. Molecules are ratios of one thing to another.

Oh, and I meant "angle" the same way people say... like the "angle" of a news story?

An angle is a story. Someone who "knows all the angles" is streetwise.

So... yeah. What I was trying to say was that happiness is hard to figure out. And sometimes it has some unexpected bends in it.