nurture

as much as the whole politeness things offends my syntax greatly, i must admit that i can't help but lose almost all of my apparent taciturnity (we shall say nothing about the shriveled and icy heart within). the usually off-the-charts frequency of scowling at random strangers has been replaced by almost (but not quite) equal levels of generalised cheerfulness. i attribute it all to the enterprise of the bow, especially such as are enacted while running or riding bike. that psych study (unpaid, most likely, which is why i never participated) about physical smiling and its correlation to and, actually, causation of self-reported (of course) happiness has never done it for your faithful Master Grimacer. however, there's something so natural about bowing, as an outward expression of pleasantness, that is impossible to not reciprocate—really.