I speak British

So how did I come up with the name for my blog? Coming home after an 8 hour cramming session of immunological facts, one is bound to suffer from a case of brain meltdown. By my 5th consecutive day of cramming, I was showing serious signs of speaking-ability-loss-itis. My friends were watching NKOTB ("New Kids On The Block" for those of you not with it with the street talk dawg) top 50 pop songs. One of them was a band called 5ive (remember them? from the late 90s? No? Nuff said.) 

Anyway, my mate C was convinced they were from the States. But I clearly remembered them having English accents and as I constructed the sentence in my mind " I remember them speaking with English accents", what came out of my mouth was " I'm sure they speak British". Suffice to say, they found that highly amusing and because I no longer knew how to speak, I couldn't come back with a retort. 

The next day, S had baked the most amazingly sumptuous chocolate brownies with milk, dark and white chocolate chunks. She complained that all the chunks had melted into the mix when she baked the brownies. I bit into a slice and there were definitely un-melted chunks in it. Again, even though my brain suggested I say the fairly sensible "I can taste the chocolate chunks", what came out instead was the daft " I taste chocolate". No? Really? Considering that 99.9% of the brownies WAS chocolate in some form (chunks, 70% cocoa powder, melted chocolate to make the mix, etc..). Good to know that at least my taste buds weren't losing it too. As my friends sat there laughing hysterically at my incompetent speaking abilities, I managed to save what remained of my credibility with the very mature "Losers!". And for added emphasis, I had my fingers in a capital L. That'll show 'em. 

Post-viva

So it's now almost 2 am and I've not slept in 2 days. My head is killing me and I'm having problems speaking like a normal person. Why? Cos 10 hours ago, in a small white room situated in a place of great scientific learning and ground-breaking research, located somewhere in the rolling plains of the English South-ish Midlands-ish region, my fate as a DPhil student was being decided. 

After 2 hours of gruelling questioning, speculative discussing and many "Huh. What?"s, I was bumped up to an upper echelon of academic standing and have now acquired the lofty title of "Dr". Overnight, I was no longer a lowly DPhil Student, working long dull hours, in dark dingy rooms, gathering incomprehensible data for a piece of writing that only 2 (or if you're lucky 3) people will ever have the honour and pleasure of reading. I was now a Dr., who may still have to work long dull hours, in dark dingy rooms, gathering incomprehensible data for a piece of writing that I hope more than 2 people will want to read, but with the newly found superpower of being able to bestow infinite knowledge and wisdom acquired and consolidated over the last 7 days, oh I mean, 4 years, to those who didn't know any better and have chosen to begin down the same path I did 4 years ago. 

And now that I'm a Dr. and I hypothetically have more free time, I've decided to start a blog. And tonight/today of all days because:

1) I am still too psyched to sleep.

2) My headache won't go. 

3) Just because I can.