When I Grow Up

I had my written cuisine exam today.  I should be excited because my pastry exam is complete (with a 98 under my belt...hooray!), and although the cuisine exam was MUCH harder, it's finished, and that's reason enough to celebrate, right?  Wrong.  Thanks to a handful of unidentified cheaters in my class, the director of the school to faced a firing squad of 62 tired, stressed, and angry culinary students to announce that the test we took this morning was null and void, and we all must take another exam on Wednesday.  Is that the most logical solution?  Really?  The best part is, aside from the one girl they identified, EVERYONE has to retake the test (cheaters included).  So, in short, their solution is to punish the honest folks out there who actually took the time to study, and the cheaters won't face any serious repercussions.  That makes total sense.  Typical French.  

Ugh, I could complain as much as I want, but it isn't going to change.  So, rather than enjoying my weekend out exploring Paris (and LOVING the blue skies that we have had recently --- minus the freezing temperatures), I'll be preparing for round two...and cramming for the cuisine practical exam I have on Friday and the pastry practical exam I have next Monday.  Eek!  I suppose this gives me a chance to study more of the information that I had originally ignored...like the vast numbers of cheeses they listed in our recipe book for the 20 different regions in France.  I kept thinking, surely out of alllllll of the information we have, they would not ask where (insert random French cheese name here) came from, so I'm not going to worry about that.  Ha. Wrong.  They definitely asked the origin of (insert random French cheese name here)...and the origin of at least 5 other types.

After the announcement was made, people started voicing their opinions and discontent with other areas of the school, and let me tell you...there aren't enough hours in the day to list the issues stemming from what we expect from Le Cordon Bleu versus what is actually presented to us on a daily basis.  I have learned a lot since I started, but there is definitely room for improvement.  When I finally got home from class and was alone in my apartment, all of this drama got me thinking.  My mind wandered from why I am here again to what I want to do when I grow up.

Well, recalling why I'm here took less than 2 seconds to remember...all I need to do is look out  my front door and see this shining back at me:

I took this picture with my phone the other night after a particularly intense cuisine practical

Ah, my first friend and confidant in this foreign land so many months ago.  Not only does Monsieur Eiffel remind me how incredibly lucky I am to be here, but he also sometimes reminds me of the unfortunate circumstances that lead me to come in the first place.  Not a day goes by where I don't think about David and miss everything about him.  When I see something really beautiful or I do well in class, I hope he's somewhere raising a Coors in my honor.  On the flip-side, when things aren't going so well, I can't help but think back to that dark place and feel anger towards him.  I know it's not the right thing to do, and some shrink out there is shaking their head, but I'm still working through it.  My grief isn't something that comes along very often, and when it does, it usually requires some sort of catalyst to open the floodgates.  I can't believe almost a year and three months have gone by.  Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I said "see ya later" after our last dinner together.  I try and channel my sadness to strength, however, and live this experience for both of us -- the good and the bad. 

As far as where I go after this?  I have no idea, and that scares the hell out of me.  Why can't the real world be as easy as it was when I was a kid?  I miss the days of thinking that being a Subway Sandwich Artist was a respectable career (no offense to any Sandwich Artists out there...I love Subway, it's just not necessarily a job for the long term...).  I had a friend in college who said that when she was little, she wanted to be a horse when she grew up.  Why is that so funny and ludicrous now?  I'm sure she was completely serious when she ran around proclaiming that to the world.  At what age do we become disillusioned and lose that ability to have (sometimes unrealistic) dreams?  Perhaps not of the farm animal persuasion, but isn't that part of the fun?  As my career search begins, it seems like the increasingly competitive job market is spearheading the dream crushing...for me anyway.  I'm trying to research as much as I can on how to penetrate a seemingly small field that I feel only slightly qualified for...in a terrible economy.  Yikes.

I feel like I am lucky enough to be living a part of my lifelong dream now, but then what next?  Hopefully (fingers crossed!!) I'll have 2 diplomas from a world renowned culinary school in a few months, but then my life is a big ol' clean slate.  For someone who likes to have a backup plan, this has me a little on edge.  Although it isn't taking away from enjoying my time here, it is something that's always in the back of my mind.  But, as I've said a million times over (and I'll probably tell myself a million times again), life happens whether you are ready or not, and sometimes it is best to just relax and ride it out.  So, yes, long story long, I am going to chill out for the time being, focus on my exams, and let whatever happens...happen!

Anyway I'm off my soapbox now.  Sorry for the lack of photographic entertainment for those of you who just tune in for the pictures, but this post is more of just a rant that I needed to get off my chest because I was too tired/cold/lazy to run out any of my frustration this afternoon.  

P.S. If y'all know of anyone looking to hire a dedicated, hard working, fresh off the boat culinary student...let me know!

- a tout à l’heure!