Go To Medical School, Become A Baker

i sometimes wish i was a baker. that, instead of being immensly in debt towards a science degree, i had taken out a loan and bought a bakery. and i would get up at five in the morning to have the bread in the oven, and while the dough was proofing, i would be mixing cookies, icing cakes, and filling pies. and i would have the hum of the convection ovens and my crazy alterna-rock to keep me company. and maybe i would hire some teenagers to work for me in the summer, and my brother and sister. dana would help me in the back and callie could work the front, selling the pastries with her good looks. and i would have a hand in all of teh celebrations in town, weddings, birthdays, graduations, whatever. and people would come back for my key lime pie and i would say the secret ingredient is love, when the secret ingredient is really condensed milk. and i would wear whites to match the white of the trade: white kitchen, white flour, white sugar, white eggs, white cream, white butter, white icing. and i would be known for the light dusting of flour that was ever present on my arms and face, dusting me like so many loaves of bread or cookies. and i would put every ounce of care i have into my pastries, my cookies, my cakes, my apple turn overs, my cobblers and pies. and i would take all of the things i have learned about baking from my parents, and everything i have taught myself and create original desserts, that people would like, but not as much as my key lime pie. i would be quiet, and let the work speak for itself, and i would be happy. i would make vegan desserts, too, and i would be known for the quality of my food. i would make any requests people wanted, in any volume. i sometimes wish i was a baker.

Thinking About Vacations Past and Vacations Yet to Come

See America Right
By The Mountain Goats
i was driving up from tampa
when the radiator burst
i was three sheets from the wind
of the billionth song the first
and then there was the cop
and then the children standing on the corner
your love is like a cyclone in a swamp and the weather's getting warmer
i was getting out of jail
headed to the greyhound
you said youd hop on one yourself and meet me on the way down
i was shaking way too hard to think
dead on my feet about to drop
when i got the case of vodka from the car
and walked the two miles to the bus stop
got on the bus half drunk again
the driver glared at me
met up with you in inglis
booked a ride to cedar key
if we never make it back to california i want you to know i love you
but my love is like a dark cloud full of rain thats always right there up above you

DNyAy

well, here i sit, studying for nucleus and having to skip swimming for it, when i learned that tulips have ten times more DNA than humans. the scientists hold facts like this as evidence supporting the notion that much of DNA is non-coding (on other words, meaningless) because tulips are much lower organisms than humans. but i propose THIS. what if tulips are actually intelligent? they have 10 times the DNA, whats to stop them from uprooting themselves one of these days and taking over entirely? nothing. so watch out, everyone. keep your eye on those tulips. they multiply like mad, and they are coming after us.

BOH

well, i have been disturbingly addicted to this blog i happened upon called WAITER RANT. it is FABULOUS. i advise you all to check it out at www.waiterrant.net. anyway, waiter rant has also led me to a few other posts on other blogs about serving and so on, and i find these thing addicting, because as much as there is animosity between cooks and servers,we are all restaurant folk, and its fun to read about and its nice to see people letting the public into the realities of the business. however, there is a reason they keep us guys in teh back, the public is more interested in servers, because those are the people they relate to when they are out dining. also, we are a vulgar, eccentric group of people and we like being the guys behind the scenes. its where we belong, but we are underrepresented in any public forum on restaurants, whether it be a movie like waiting, a blog like waiterrant, or a book. so without further ado, allow this small she cook to outline for you: BACK OF HOUSE- A GLIMPSE INTO WHERE THE REAL MAGIC HAPPENS (AKA THE THUNDERDOME, BITCH)

THE CHEF
in restaurants much better than the one i work at, there is usually a chef. some places, like the one i work at have a kitchen manager instead, details on him to follow. the chef is usually a man who has been cooking his whole life. half of the kitchen is trying to become this man, and half of the kitchen is trying NOT to become this man. the half trying NOT to become the man are the ones who probably will. the chef is usually an alcoholic because he is passionate about the art of cooking but now his life is steeped in pointless bureaucracy, meetings, and petty disputes. he gets to plan all of the menus and execute their creation, but he also has to do a lot of other work that is very boring and disillusioning. he also probably makes a fraction of the money his friends from high school are now making, and his wife just left him six months ago because hes at his stupid thankless job 100 hours a week. all of this angst has caused him to become a complete arrogant prick who needs servers to stroke his ego 24 - 7 while his cooks avoid him, begrudgingnly learning quite a lot from him despite themselves.

THE SOUS CHEF
the sous chef holds the kitchen together so the chef has time for all of his fun work involving paperwork and inventory. the sous chef is usually bitter at having to deal with his incompetent underlings, but is likeable nonetheless. usually a good guy to have on your side, but dont piss him off, the chef listens to him and NO ONE ELSE. the sous chef still has plans of somehow becoming a chef without becoming an alcoholic, but he knows deep down thats impossible.

LINE COOKS
there are several subdivisions of line cooks, but we can make some preliminary generalisations. line cooks tend to define their personalities at work by the music that they listen to. this sets the tone in teh kitchen for the rest of the day. line cooks generally spend their whole day busting their asses, but they still find time to make inappropriate comments to servers, bitch about their jobs, and cuss non stop. there is no such thing as a pleasant customer to a line cook. it doesnt matter WHAT you order, they don't to make it, and they ESPECIALLY dont want to make it for staff. stress is this kind of cook's business, and business is good.
-> THE DAY CREW: line cooks on the day crew tend to be the lazy pot head types. they work the slowest shifts with the easiest to please customers. the chef or kitchen manager just keeps them around becuase his best cooks work weekends and they dont want weekday day shifts, and he has to keep the best cooks happy, especially since theyre line cooks and they hate everything anyway.
-> THE NIGHT CREW: nights are always busier than days, so you get a better caliber of cook on these nights. often students, the night crew cannot party much during the week, since they work teh night shift, but when they get the chance, they party much harder than the day crew to make up for lost time.
-> THE WEEKEND CREW: these shifts are reserved for the strongest cooks. without fail, these cooks are also the angriest, crudest, and most endearing cooks. they have very strong loyalty to each other from working together under stress for so long and they take no guff from any server. most of them are steadfast smokers, whose entire work experience is just a whole lot of "x number of minutes until my next cigarette"
-> THE BREAKFAST CREW: it has always been my experience that no matter where you work, it takes a certain kind of crazy to cook breakfast. whether it be at a resort where the breakfast crew rolls in before 5 am to get pastries in the oven, or at a pub where you sling 300 plates of greasy eggs in an inappropriately equipped kitchen for six hours, breakfast cooks are the kooks of teh kitchen

PREP COOKS
prep cooks are a lot slower than any line cook, because they are not under any sort of pressure for time. in kitchens with more than one prep cook, they tend to band together since the line cooks are too busy running around and swearing to have a conversation with anyone who is not a line cook. in some kitchens, prep cooks are completely isolated from line cooks, making their kitchen experience entirely other.

DISHLICKERS
these BOH representatives tend to be high school kids who need to make some easy money on teh weekends, or very old men with low IQs. other than dishes, they get given plenty of bitchwork, and are constantly reminded that they are expendable. a few of these kids will climb the kitchen ladder, and dont realise that bitchwork now means real kitchen jobs in teh future. they are often completely useless with tonnes of attitude, but every now and again you meet one with a sense of humour.

SHECOOKS
she cooks can be in any of the above categories, but i think they deserve a mention here as well.
-> THE FEMININE SHE COOK: this she cook is still trying to retain her feminity because it either has not dawned on her yet that this is a mans trade in a mans world, or she knows that but doesnt care. very few she cooks like this last very long.
-> THE "I AM A BOY" SHE COOK: this she cook has been working it kitchens so long that her boyishness has spread into every aspect of her life. or perhaps her boyishness is what drew her to cooking in teh first place. she forgets shes a girl, her coworkers forget shes a girl, and new servers think shes a dyke. she holds her own among the boys and throws out as much sexism and mouthing off as everyone else
-> THE RAGING MAN HATER SHE COOK: this she cook hes been mistreated by men both in and out of work and feels she has something to prove. she is not one of the boys, she is more of a feminist. an extreme feminist. she thinks anything the boys can do, she can do better, and will not tolerate any of the behaviours that make cooks so endearing. this she cook is hated by all, and either changes her attitude or finds a new job.

SO there you have it folks, my 2 cents on what i do. hope you liked it, now im going to get back to my stupid nucleus paper.

Letters

Dear global village marketplace: thank you for being there, with your delicious, affordable vegetarian sandwiches. thank you for having more vegetarian options than meat options, one of the few places where our people are the majority. thank you for delicious, organic, free trade herbed goat cheese. thank you for your strange owner who always seems like shes talking to someone else when shes actually talking to you.

Dear swimming: im sorry i sucked so much ass tonite. i have not been on the ball lately, but im going to bring it back, i promise.

Dear wolf parade: you rock so hard. how did i exist without you in my life. apologies to the queen mary is one of the most moving albums i own i think. please record more albums.

Dear nucleus paper: you suck and i hate you i wish you were a live so i could kill you. instead you are killing me.


Love, Chloé

My Stalker

my stalker is heartless and completely insensitive. he watches me as i sit at my desk and mocks me. he makes fun of me when i forget when my period is due. he asks me questions i dont want to answer, like, "what are you doing with yourself?" "why havent you started your nucleus paper, its due in two weeks?" "how are you going to get by after you graduate?" "why havent you scheduled your grad photos yet? or paid the bills? or called your uncle?" he always makes me feel bad about myself, and never goes away. i try to ignore him, but he is relentless, always there, over my left shoulder, looming like some sort of hideous gargoyle. he is ominous and forbodes so much. i only keep him around because sometimes he reminds me of good things, like Christmas break, and nikolai's next show, or my sister's birthday..... i wish i could escape him though... the relentless pursuit of me, by the days that pass on my calendar

Someday

i have no love story to tell. no tale of eyes meeting across a crowded room. no whispered sweet nothings and talk of forever. no words to fill an eternity, no silences to fill a soul. no story of bubbling insatiable passion, of restlessness, of excitement and fear. no wide eyed starry nights of euphoria and self centredness. no first kisses, or hundreth kisses that still feel like first kisses. no words for always. no talk of destiny. i have no love story to tell.