I am an absolute sucker for anything tomato. It is undeniably my favorite "vegetable" of all time. At lunch I am faced with a major opposition to my diet when I open the kettle of soup in that inhabits many of the Cornell dining halls. Cheddar tomato soup stares at me in all of its rich glory and I crumble.

I have a friend that has been luring me with coffee lately. She’s 2736 miles away but insists that I must be able to smell the roasting coffee beans of Seattle’s Pike Place market from here. Nonetheless, when considering grad schools to apply to, this is her leverage. Around every corner in Seattle, Washington, there is a perfectly brewed cup of joe waiting for me. She obviously knows the way to my heart.

I am writing this at about 9 A.M on Sunday morning and chances are most of the Cornell student body is still asleep. Exams really mess up my sleep schedule. Normally, I’m cozied up in my most glorious bed by 11 or 12 P.M but lately I’ve been looking at the clock for the last time around 2:30 A.M. And the sad part of it all is that my body won’t seem to let me sleep in. Some internal clock starts freaking out at 9 in the morning and won’t shut up until I’m in the shower.

You know the feeling. It’s two in the morning and all you can think about is Chinese takeout. You crave the salty and sweet combination that Asian food is renowned for. You crave the deep savory flavor of soy, which has recently been identified as “umami”. I have always found Asian cooking a little daunting.

Every fall I look forward to the reemergence of pumpkin in my life. I wait for the perfect fall day, cold and rainy with the leaves turning to red and orange, to take shelter in Starbucks and indulge in their pumpkin spice latte with a warm pumpkin muffin on the side.

Every week I tirelessly focus on the Food Pyramid. Fruits, vegetables, grains, proteins, blah, blah, blah. But at the very top of the pyramid is one of my favorite groups, sweets. Granted, the recommended guidelines are to “use sparingly” but its Halloween and sparingly will be temporarily removed from my vocabulary. There is something you should know about me. Not only am I a child at heart, but I have a little devil that sits on my shoulder every time chocolate or candy is in sight.

Michael Jackson followed me around last week. No, ghosts are exactly my thing but in my fuzzy, stress induced state all I could focus on was Just Beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it. No one wants to be defeated! I think the song was clinging on to the huge vendetta I had against Cornell and its entire faculty. Somehow, every single one of my classes scheduled a prelim during the same week.

Eternal life and longevity have been a prominent theme in folklore and fairy tales since the dawn of time. With a new found obsession for vampires in fiction and movies, the old tale of the philosopher’s stone, and the ageless anecdote of the infamous Fountain of Youth, living forever has quite obviously been a lustful dream for the human population since the beginning of time.

Picture this. A mythological creature stands before you with three paper bags in hand. The almighty god of the food world forces you to choose one bag. The contents are the only foods you can eat for the rest of your life. One bag is bulging with chocolates, cheeseburgers, cookies, and sodas. The next is brimming with spinach, peas, oranges, and apples. The last bag contains kale, salmon, chocolate, raspberries, and fresh bread. Which do you choose? Could you spend the rest of your life with fat, salt, and sugar dripping down your chin? Could you keep from going insane on a diet that never provided any of these luxurious indulgences? Is there beauty in the bag that represents a balance of both?

I’m getting a little cranky. The problem is that I am spoiled - no doubt in my mind, no question in my head. I am responsible for this gut-wrenching craving that never seems to go away. After all of the fruitless attempts to satiate this relentless hankering, I am still here wallowing with chopsticks in hand and a furious look on my face, silently judging the chintzy plastic container of americanized and replusivized sushi.

It all started on a cold winters night in the Big Apple. All glammed up and trying to fit in with the pretentious NYC fashionistas, I shivered my way through the sleet and snow into a sushi-lovers paradise. I did not know it then but this was the night that would create an eternal craving that I am sure will persist for the rest of my food-loving life.