Sometimes what you want and what you should do are completely different things. Sometimes you don’t know what either of those things are.
As I sit here listening to Christmas music, gearing up for the season, I am without. I don’t know what to do with all of the emotions that I’m feeling. I feel sadness. I feel as if I am grieving not the death of a person, but the death of a life I thought I'd have, a life I wanted. I feel regret that I didn’t act one way, or acted too ferociously another.
He was the greatest love that I have yet felt in this life. Some of my biggest milestones. and greatest failures, were shared together. My memories act as pieces of who I am, intricately woven together making me, me. For five years I have thought of him nearly once every single day and this next journey ahead of me will be a hard one.
Mostly I hope he finds what he wants. I hope that being away from me will release him to be the person he wants to be and find the kind of love that will spark something inside of him that he is sure of. I want him to find that 100% that he was never sure of with me.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Saturday, November 7, 2015
The daily grind
It's nearly 2016. Where has the year gone?
I can't believe that it's been almost a year since I graduated from the French Pastry School, moved back to Madison, and began this crazy journey doing something that I love. I sat here a few years ago and wondered if I was making a huge mistake by changing my career path, and while I still have those doubts, they have become more few and far between.
My restaurant life, as I've come to call it, is crazy. Some weeks are defined by stress and anxiety - will I finish my work? Will I spill my entire batch of anglaise in the cooler? Will a coworker crank my oven temperature up and ruin my apple chips tonight?
And other times my weeks are defined by seasonal produce and celebrations. Beautifully ripe peaches fresh from the market. Maple syrup tapped just last week from the Amish community who also make our dining furniture. A special birthday, a 50 year anniversary.
Working in the restaurant has given me courage. I'm encouraged to speak my mind and I'm valued for my creativity. I bounce delicious ideas for a living, and make them come alive. My restaurant family test my patience and rough house like brothers do, but come to my side when I need them. And they make one heck of a staff meal.
I am a pastry chef. I won't always be, but for right now it feels good.
I can't believe that it's been almost a year since I graduated from the French Pastry School, moved back to Madison, and began this crazy journey doing something that I love. I sat here a few years ago and wondered if I was making a huge mistake by changing my career path, and while I still have those doubts, they have become more few and far between.
My restaurant life, as I've come to call it, is crazy. Some weeks are defined by stress and anxiety - will I finish my work? Will I spill my entire batch of anglaise in the cooler? Will a coworker crank my oven temperature up and ruin my apple chips tonight?
And other times my weeks are defined by seasonal produce and celebrations. Beautifully ripe peaches fresh from the market. Maple syrup tapped just last week from the Amish community who also make our dining furniture. A special birthday, a 50 year anniversary.
Working in the restaurant has given me courage. I'm encouraged to speak my mind and I'm valued for my creativity. I bounce delicious ideas for a living, and make them come alive. My restaurant family test my patience and rough house like brothers do, but come to my side when I need them. And they make one heck of a staff meal.
I am a pastry chef. I won't always be, but for right now it feels good.
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