Symptoms of Cretinism

There comes a time when I feel like writing something but can't seem to put my finger on it; my fingers grow itchy and my mind wanders to every conceivable this and that and here and there. It's been almost a month too, since my last post, and I do owe it to the few people--some I know, some obscure, some just plain annoying--who come here once in a while to check out my random bursts of insanity and maybe drop a line or two, to put up something (that aspires to be) clever. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things I want to put here, but I've always imagined this blog to be more of a repository for thoughts about life--hence the title (if you don't get it, don't worry--the word that starts with a 'C' automatically excuses you from any fault)--rather than a chronicle of my day to day or week to week activities. The whole "Dear Diary" crap is old and retarded, and is best reserved for overly-giddy teenage girls who like Hale and sissy emo m...