I've got a shitload of facts and principles to digest, but I'm bored so I'm just gonna blog about something totally unrelated.

Let's talk about vegetarianism.

Okay, okay, fine. Don't close the tab and go off to some food blog. We'll talk about MY vegetarianism, alright? No preaching. The only thing I preach is nail-biting.

I found this quaint little (some may call it shifty-looking) first-floor cafe along Rundle St. that serves vegan food this afternoon. I fell in love with it! Tiny, with the owner's artwork on the wall, it had a very cozy and aesthetic feel to it. And not to mention the best vegan burger I've tasted to date. I'm definitely going back there with a book. But you may come along, if you want to.

Anyway, lots of people have asked me about the sort of vegetarian that I am. I never knew how to answer that in a monosyllable, hence I never liked people asking me.

Let's see... Am I the 'eat-chicken-curry-and-you'll-be-reborn-as-the-chicken-that-never-managed-to-cross-the-road' vegetarian (okay, maybe karma doesn't quite work like that)? Probably. Especially towards the end of a semester *cough*.
Maybe I'm also a bit of the 'I-wanna-be-the-first-centenarian-to-win-an-olympic-medal' variety. Very appealing, but at the moment I'm just happy when I don't sprain my ankle at the gym, and if this keeps up I may start training for the olympics after my 80th birthday.
How about the 'animal rights activist' vegetarian? i'm probably a bit of that too, especially of late when I see fish in a tank, and fish on the table, then I look at the fish in the tank again, and... you get the point. Thank god I'm not a tree-hugger, too.

I'm sure there are many other principles that I can't seem to think of at the moment, but you get the picture. I'm probably an 'all-in' vegetarian. It feels right to my system. I've never felt better unless you want to count the days when I weighed less than 40 kilograms and life revolved around a badminton schedule. Trust me, it wasn't that long ago. Especially the 'less than 40 kilograms' part.

... when you stare at your notes (when you're supposed to be reading them) and realise for the first time that somewhere down the line, acronyms and initialisms have taken on new meanings. For instance;

1. When I write 'pt' now, I mean 'patient' and not 'part' or 'point'.

2. 'HD' is now 'Huntington's disease' and not a feature of Sony's latest contribution to the couch potato's altar.

3. 'DVT' is 'Deep Vein Thrombosis', not part of Ah Beng's DVD sales pitch.

4. Less typical ones like 'NSTEACS' is 'Non-ST-Elevated-Acute-Coronary-Syndrome' (I know, Phew!) and not Kavana's latest attempt to get out of the one-hit-wonder category.

5. ...and 'IHD' now stands for 'Ischaemic Heart Disease' and not 'I Have Diarrhoea'.

Yup. I'm stuck with this major. It has stuck its claim on my soul or something like that (I sure as hell don't remember signing anything in blood, but I don't remember a lot of things anyway) so it's do or die now, I guess.

...and I don't think I like where it appears to be headed at the moment.

I have fresh coffee and croissant stains (about an hour-old!) on my painstakingly-written notes due to another blond moment of using them as a coaster-cum-makeshift plate. Okay, it wasn't a blond moment, but something I couldn't care less about until it happens *coughblondmomentcough*

Ah well. The good thing is that it doesn't make much of a difference, since I still have to squint a little to decipher my writing. If that handwriting analysis thing carries any weight, that'll also mean that I haven't actually changed much for the past fifteen years.

It's that time of the semester again.

No big, since it happens, like, at least twice every year, right?

Right.

I'll keep telling myself that in the midst of realising that I went through the whole semester without touching more than half of my notes. On the other hand, if you could see them you wouldn't want to touch them too.

Don't ask me how I did it. I never look a gift horse in the mouth.

Anyway, just to stress on the point again and to avoid another uber-short post:

IT'S TIME!!!

First paper's next Friday. Next Friday. Not tomorrow.

Wish me luck and if it is tomorrow, please let me know ASAP.

Jay says:

      so, what's that you're eating now?

cpy says:

      garlic.

Jay says:

      oh. garlic what?

cpy says:

      just garlic la. I munch on a clove every now and then. it's good for the immune
      system and as a wake-me-up.

Jay says:

      fml that i had to ask my eyes are watering already

Jay says:

      and thats not the same as a watering mouth dont try and be smart

Jay says:

      Bloody health nut. i know i shouldnt ask anymore but whats that youre drinking?

cpy says:

      ...some herbal detox tea from E-excel.

...to be continued. Fer sure, yo.

I've been vegetarian for the past half-year or more and lovin' it (I think that's trademarked by McD's but who cares they'll never find this).

...but You already know that. Well, almost all of you.

But what I bet most of you don't know is that due to some thyroid hormone imbalances I've been put on a strict diet which isn't that strict since I'm vegetarian anyway and don't eat most of the stuff that I'm supposed to be avoiding.

So in a nutshell, that leaves eggs, dairy and white vegetable (don't ask!) that I have to be careful about.

Which isn't all that difficult because, sans eating out, my meals are made up of combinations of various lettuces, spinach, flourless bread, flaxseed, black sesame seeds, honey, oat bran, soy milk, wheat grass and an assortment of nuts, seeds and fruits.

That's it. That's the whole lot there.

I bet I can take it one step further and go vegan. I think I would like that.

...but then noone would want to go out with me anymore.

I am!

And I have no bloody idea why.

Oh, wait. I do.

I texted my bro with a '...keep me posted. Via twitter! WAKAKKAKA!!!'

Maybe I should have omitted the 'wakakkaka'. The Twitter reference was meant to be a figure of speech, because everyone's on Twitter. Well, everyone who's someone.

So it turns out that he's on twitter, too, because apparently he's someone who's someone. It's different with the italics.

Anyway, he got me to get a Twitter account, too, so that I can, uh, tweet. So just signed up for it a moment ago.

...what am I supposed to do now?

...so I put on some Patsy Cline.

Sorry, Peter Noone, I promise you'll get your iTunes-time tonight. (I'll Never Dance Again is beautiful nighttime music)

I don't know what to blog about again, so I'll talk about the sun.

The sun is beautiful today because there are no clouds in its way, and the sun is in my eye.

The sun is in the bloody eye that's recovering from a teeny-weeny surgery procedure and that the doc said to try to keep the sun out of.

...but that's partially my fault. There's a gap between the wall and my curtains, and the curtains don't really help much anyway. As I told Fel, me and my stupid 'oOoo... i LOVE these curtains! theyre so sheer and... zen-like!'

But that's okay, because I love the sun (but not as much as the mooon! We like da mooOOOON!!!)

*ahem*

Post begun with: Angel (The Great E)
and completed with: A Dear John Letter (Skeeter Davis and Bobby Bare)

It was supposed to be "Coffee at Poh's", but since Jo wanted to move her whole kitchen over, we decided it was easier for me to go over instead.

Besides, "Coffee at Jo's" has a nicer, sitcom-like ring to it.

So, while the coffee was left to steep, Jo showed off her pancake-flipping skills.

...and here she is trying to catch one that somehow managed to stick itself onto the ceiling.

Nah, that's not true. In fact, she's pretty damn good at it but I reckon I would get higher ratings if I wrote about pancakes getting stuck against the ceiling.

So there was Nanyang coffee (oh, yeah!), pancakes and poached eggs, but the picture-taking stopped when the food was ready. Why does this always happen?

Finally entered this quaint bookshop that I've been meaning to enter since early this year... it's a goldmine! Hans Christian, Dickens... vintage, yo!

I mean new to Blogdrive, not new new. Y'know what I mean.

Yeah, so we can now make... Categories!

Nothing revolutionary, but something new to occupy myself with anyway.

Lessee, lessee... I can have one called "Misc", and...."Misc".....?

Uhh.... help? Someone? Anyone?

*Edit*

Whatthebloodyhell?! Why doesn't my category appear?!

Help? Someone?

But I'm not seventeen, so it's not Armageddon.

Still, it deserves a post simply because it's not something that happens often to me... and also simply because I've got nothing else to blog about.

You see, my nails almost never get chipped because I bite them all the time so I never have enough of them for that to happen.

They look something like this on a regular basis. You can tell straight away that I chipped the middle one.

Nevermind the lecture notes. I took this in reply to the 100th 'so, whatcha up to now?'

I strongly advocate nail-biting because it's practical and economical. No need for french manicures and worrying about ruining them, no need for nail clippers. I don't own a nail clipper.

Just don't ask about my toenails.