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I've had this lifelong dream of getting a lovely toned stomach with two lines running down the middle for as long as I can remember. Yeah, sure I exercise like a dog four times a week - weights, yoga, BodyPump, running....anything as long as I sweat! You'd expect me to be as thin as sin and as fit as one of those Olympian runners if you didn't know me better.

But. No. It ain't happening. Why? Because I can't give up food. I love food. I live to eat. Hell, even as I write this I have a container of nuts and raisins next to me. Yeah, I get my guilty days when I feel as though I've eaten just over enough to feed the Royal Navy and then I live off salads for the next couple of meals. But it ends there. After purgatory, I revert back to my old self and wonder what to cook for dinner again. Chicken curry? Fried noodles? Beef stew? Perhaps try a new restaurant? Food, food, food. There are so many things to eat!! I don't care if I sound like a glutton right now.

If people can make a living out of studying cortical spreading depressions in the brain, cooking actually seems to be a brilliant career choice. There is something thrilling about bustling about in the kitchen and an even greater thrill when you look at the fruits of your labour after twenty minutes. Cooking is not difficult at all, but it requires passion - as hackneyed and overused as that bloody phrase sounds. But like most hackneyed sayings, it's followed by the obligatory "It's true!" You need lots and lots of enthusiasm if you want people to remember the flavours of your food. For instance, I've realized over this academic year that my curry varied with different moods. I would make curry during my exam period, and it would come out watery and incredibly bland. Kind of like how I was feeling at the time. And then when I wasn't so stressed, it came out creamy and pedas enough to numb your tastebuds just the way I wanted it to. If you cook half-heartedly, your food will taste like shit. Frankly.

Anyway. Er. Basically...I'm just wondering casually in a non-regretful way now why I didn't choose to go to cooking school instead. Hm. Gosh, are my thoughts disjointed.

See, all this sort of came about after watching Gordon Ramsay on TV yelling non-stop at the poor broke bastard on Kitchen Nightmares. I would make this post a lot cleverer but I'm just talking out of my bum as usual.

Night.