Dec 14, 2006 | Fog

It’s a positively eerie feeling to see the world as though one would through parchment paper, the kind you put your cookies on before shoving the baking sheet into the oven. If you own a pair of glasses, I presume the description “How it’s like when you’ve been out in the snow or in the cold and then you enter a warm room” would suffice. The fog that descended upon our area this evening is so thick it’s tangible, so dense it forms dewdrops on my bike, so pervasive that the lights that illuminate the larger structures of the playing field look like bulbs of ill-lit airstrip landing lights from high above the cloud cover.

Final exams are approaching. That in itself should be a statement to invoke fear in predators, criminals, stalkers and all such evil persons around the world. Let them shudder and run away, screaming for their lives. For such seemingly harmless four words cause chaos and disrupts the Earth’s natural rotation by a few seconds, precisely because Mother Nature hates to see students poring over textbooks at 2 in the morning, anxious to get those last few chapters (or books, as may be the case) into the archives of one’s brain. Mother Nature languishes at the strangeness that is those other students who party and drink the night away.

So if you see the sun rising from the west tomorrow, you can thank those pitiful college kids as they end their semester.

Also written on this day..

• 2007: Pure Happiness
• 2005: The Muses
• 2004: Links
• 2003: Identity Crisis