Onion soup does not make me cry

Well, guess I have been so tremendously interested that I lost the track of time… It is been a month.

It is been a month, and no sight of a job.

Days, weeks passed by… I am unaware of it all; cooking, studying and writing, on what make myself busy and productive. So often, I found myself on a Friday morning, thinking it may be a Tuesday, or even a Wednesday morning instead. Always lost in thoughts, minding on my own business*, going out/sending e-mails with my résumé, and reading. Late night, I can hear the sounds around the house; the wood cracking, the wind passing through the trees outside.
Tonight, I made myself an onion soup. Simple and savory enough for the type of comfort I was looking for; chop-chop-chop**, sautéing, stirring, wait, grab the bowl, bread plus cheese. It is 1:27 am, and , as I type this brief letter, I am having this amazing warmth.
The house sleeps.
I do feel lonely here and there, even though most of the time (ninety-fiveish percent) it is not a bad loneliness-confusing-depressing-frustrating, but a nice felling of getting to know me better. To a better understand of the real meaning of patience, and exercising it.

So long!


* Pinterest.com
** “Bon appétit!”

#She could also hear# Cat Power - Back Of Your Head

No, Bob. It is not porn.

"Find something you're passionate about, and keep tremendously interested in it."

          (CHILD, Julia) 

Now, school is been over for three weeks almost. And I am back home (is it really?).
I have been searching for a new job (yes, the other one was not as good as it sounded at first). And I also took this time to play around with my new knives, reproducing some of the school recipes, as well as creating a few more.
Eating, folks. That is something I just can not give up. Oh, Ms. Nutritionist, by that I mean good food. I could think about ingredients and techniques all day long... I know! It seems that I've got some new thing to go insane for.

The good news is I found out tonight (after a delicious chinese-kinda meal) that I am going to get published. Wow! No, no, no! Not me, nor The Book. One of my short stories* will be in an american magazine.
Hurray! It is a nice feeling, I must say so.

Cheers!


* No, Bob. It is not porn.

The clam delusions

"Please, please somebody help me!"

The clam screamed to the cook, who did not noticed  and opened the shelf killing it.

How was I supposed to be able to hear its pleading? How was I supposed to know its pain? Where its story began? Well, I may not know the answers to those questions, but I know how it ended. Twenty people fully satisfied with the clam and its similar taste.  :)

====

Besides the clam's pain, I complain now my own. My whole body is sore. The lunch at the restaurant was pretty crazy today, and we had to deal with three missing members of our team. But, at the end, everything was just fine.

First things first

First things first. I am a culinary student about to finish school. Going through the waves of emotions (yes, I am a woman) of the Balzac age, as well as the doubts of my own knowledge of what I've been proposing myself to do as a profession.
I do not doubt my culinary skills, however I do feel a little insecure. Insecurity, that is (probably) the right word for some of my problems. Maybe so.

I've been losing control and I no longer have control of some, big, part of my own. What would I do? I keep trying to endure things on my own, over and over again.
This kind of behavior could be the end of my sanity.

Sometimes, More often than I wish, I feel myself going crazy.
Am I crazy?