To Be a Connecticut

I am well aware that by this point all of you folks have stopped reading this because of my rather pathetic and sudden departure from the world. I assure you, I am indeed still alive, but only just. I have found that during the winter months, I become less of a human and more of a bear. Actually, I live in most trivial and boring way that I'm not even sure that I am comparable to a bear, as bears at least get outside to attack some deserving person for invading the privacy of the hibernating cave. I do not even do that. No, I resolve to destroy my intelligence with mindless television. (Real Housewives, anyone?) So I would instead compare my winter self to some sort of raccoon, or perhaps even a squirrel, but not nearly as cute.

It was sad, yes, but I think that perhaps it was for the better. If I had not stopped with the blogging and the fashion and the art, then how could I have realized how important it is to me? I will not be some sort of sack of nothingness, and I will not desert my creativity because it is easier. That would be very Connecticut.

Yes, Connecticut is now an adjective, I thought of it in the shower. One must never be Connecticut and I think, that is why so many people use the abbreviation, CT. To be a Connecticut is very dirty language, and I will not tolerate anyone using such a word.

Except for me, because I had to explain it.

On to lighter things from here, yes?